He tapped his nose once in agreement before strolling to the door to leave.
We never got tomorrow.
I raked in a shaky breath, realizing that the gold bracelet Florence was wearing at the warehouse had been that necklace. She must’ve wrapped it around her wrist a couple times, and I knew that she’d likely worn it since the day Alex passed. My heart ached for them, for everything they would never havetogether. One day, I wanted to sit with her and tell her what he did for Creed, for me. I was sure Mick and the others had already doused Alex’s little sister in stories, but it still felt important to give what I could to her, especially after she gave so much to Creed. Rafe and I would have never been able to have a full conversation if it hadn’t been for her teaching us ASL.
I forced a few blinks, steadying myself against the wall.
I was losing focus, allowing guilt and ghosts to take me away from what mattered most.You can’t grieve him yet, any of them, I told myself and pried open the cache, grabbing a fresh gun since I left mine in the car with Rafe. Still, it took a lot to bring myself away from that grief. Leah. Thorne. Alex.Kane…No.No.
I held the grip firmly, testing the weight, before my eyes caught on a small duffel shoved behind gear. My pulse stuttered. I sat the gun aside and pried the bag from its wedged spot, unzipping the top. The air became thinner, harder to pull into my lungs, when I spotted a swash of red fabric and shiny black. It felt like lifetimes ago that I wore that red dress and Viktor’s black pearls, but there they were. Scowling, I fingered the fabric in anger, the memory of the night Viktor tattooedDOLLinto my arm crawling back under my skin. Gritting my teeth, I plucked both dress and pearls into my grasp and marched down the hall. It only took me a minute to get the fire lit in the fireplace, and I tossed the dress in, fisting the pearls. For some reason, I couldn’t let them go. I think part of it was that Leah, just like all of Viktor’s Dolls, had worn the same kind the night I found her dead at that gala. I didn’t have anything else physical to tie back to her, so I shoved the pearls into my pocket with a grimace, watching the red dress shrivel.
After a few moments, I gathered further courage and explored the rest of the townhouse. Every step felt like trespassing in my own past, like I was walking through a version of that place thatno longer belonged to me. I bit down on my tongue when I found my old room. The sight of it knocked something loose in my chest, not shock exactly, but a hollow recognition that the room wasn’t mine and likely never would be again. It must’ve been given to Florence or Grace, the place redecorated, but I did find some of my thrifted clothes in the back of the closet, including my jeans and a tank. I can’t really explain why I changed into them. My other clothes were better for fighting, but something about that ratty outfit brought me even closer to my anger over Viktor. It was…a deliberate choosing of pain instead of protection. Ineededto burrow into myself, to set the killer inside me free. As much as I despised the torture I endured, I also recognized that the hardened pieces of me were vital to getting out of further torture unscathed. That outfit—it was the same kind of outfit I’d chosen at Viktor’s estate whenever I finally got to shed my Doll dress and paint. It was the outfit I rebelled with Leah in, kissed Thorne in, and entered that courtyard in. It was armor, better armor than anything else I could’ve worn.
I folded my jacket over my arm, carrying it back to the parlor, the pearls clinking softly against my lighter in its pocket. The sound anchored me and unraveled me all at once. Blood dripped from my hair as I walked, dark drops marking the floor behind me, and I thought faintly to clean myself up—but then the memory of Alex drying my hair that night before he introduced me to S.I.N. blinded me, fucking crippled me. I grasped the back of his chair in the parlor with a gasp, my jacket sliding off my arm and draping over the chair’s back, my fingers digging into the wood. With a shaky breath, I moved to the bar cart and filled a glass with brandy, taking a long drink. The burn grounded me, dragged me back into my body when I’d been on the verge of leaving it entirely. I couldn’t risk dissociating. I needed to stay on that edge. I distantly heard thunder rumbling outside when I moved back to Alex’s chair and slowly let myself settle into it, mybody rigid. I gripped the armrests, staring across at the chair he tied me to that first night.
“I miss you,” I whispered before my spine stiffened at the sound of the townhouse door opening and closing, bootsteps following.
Of course, you know this part, don’t you, officer?Keep fucking driving.We’re almost there. I guess I’ll go over it, what got us in your car driving—Why are you only going eighty? Fuck. Go faster. Thank you. Now, back to it.
I couldn’t help but grin a little when I saw it was only you. I really did think my plan had worked, that I’d hooked a crooked cop with a taste for fame, someone who’d read that note and seen an opportunity instead of a problem. A promotion. A headline. Something shiny.Officer Morris, your badge read. But the clock was ticking—is still ticking—and every second that passes, I know that Rafe is catching up to Viktor, that Viktor is catching up to Henry, and that Kane may be taking his final breaths. So for fuck’s sake,faster.
In the parlor, you asked me dull questions for an officer who walked in on a woman covered in blood. You’re polite, at least. I’ll give you that. I thought I’d speed things along by just flat out saying I was guilty, but I saw it in your eyes—you’re too fucking by the book, aren’t you? Your hands are clean. Your instincts are procedural. You took one look at me and were already thinkingabout forms and stations and backup, about what cameafterme, while I was still trying to prevent what comesnext.
Unfortunately, officer, innocence is as malleable as corruption. I expected a crooked cop, but you’ve proven to be just as easy to manipulate. Please don’t take offense to that. I know it sounds bad, but I genuinely hope that despite everything I’ve told you, you hold onto your need to go by the book. Specifically, I hope you take those good instincts and put them to workagainstS.I.N.
Because it’s kids, officer. They’re justkids. They deserve the chance Creed and the Ravens never had, and maybe because you seem like a good guy, like maybe you’re honorable, you’ve actually listened to me,heardme. You called your buddies when we first got in the car, and you did as I said, telling them there are kids at risk. Maybe that will mean something this time, officer. It’s just a maybe though, right? They’re just some missing kids that stayed missing. It’s not your fault. You can’t save them all, but…what if you could? Or at the very least, what if you could save thirty-five,tonight?Because you can. You can refrain from telling your backup anything about this involving Creed and you can make this a rescue, not a shoot out. The Ravens are relying on you. They have their hands full with all the other orphanages and foster homes. Trust me. Going to the cops wasn’t what I wanted, holding you at gun point isn’t either.
But you can save those kids, Officer Morris, and you can let Creed take care of the human equivalent to shit on the bottom of your shoe. It’s really that simple; itwillbe that simple.
Hope, officer. Do I dare put any faith in you?
?Rafe?
He was here. I knew it the same way I had known every time he was coming for me as a kid, my body locking tight. I threw the car into park at the edge of the orphanage’s property, my eyes narrowed on the vehicle idling in the long driveway. The cockroach thought it would bethateasy to pluck Henry and leave. I stepped out of the car and booked it to Viktor’s, scanning the backseat for Kane. Heart in my throat, I opened the driver’s door, popped the trunk, and rounded the back.
Empty. A black hole opened in the center of myself, the same one I’d been battling since the day we lost Thorne. It was the place everything fell into when I let myself imagine being too late, the familiar drop in my stomach where names turned into voids. I couldn’t let it take me again, even as I knew that if Kane wasn’t here, then he might’ve been in that van. The thought clawed at old scars.He might be inside, I lied to myself, and I would continue to lie to myself until Henry and every other kid was safe. I cocked my rifle and strode up to the porch, a chill running down my spine at the sight of the propped openfront door, a woman slumped against it, a bullet wound in her chest and her gaze dead. The position of her body told me she hadn’t been given time to understand what was happening. I recognized her as the one in charge, meaning the kids had absolutely no one looking after them. It had to have only been maybe ten minutes since Viktor got here, but I’d lost a lot more in a lot less before.
I carefully passed the den, freezing when I spotted several small figures crouched on either side of the couches. They must have been watching TV when Viktor came in shooting. I scanned them quickly, ensuring none of them got caught in the crossfire, refusing to look at faces longer than necessary and desperately wanting to ask if any of them saw where Viktor went. Being unable to, I forced myself to leave them behind. Leaving children unguarded wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t have a choice. I had no way to reassure them, and something told me nothing would bring them peace anyway beside Viktor’s head. One of them though must have recognized me from the rescue at Viktor’s estate, because he pointed a finger down the hall toward the backyard. The gesture was hesitant, like he expected punishment for helping. I offered him a grateful smile, but he huddled back down, blinking back tears, already folding himself smaller.
Keeping my pace quick but cautious, I moved down the hall, sweeping every shadow or room before slowing at the threshold of the back door. My breathing ticked up a notch when a rock bounced across the patio. I rounded the corner, lifting my gun, my gaze narrowing on Viktor Shaw’s back, the sight of him making that damn black hole inside me rear its ugly head.
He stood at the edge of the lawn, his hands cupped around his mouth as he must have yelled something toward the play set. His calm posture alone was enough to sour my stomach, the casual confidence of a man who had never learned what it felt like to be powerless. I caught sight of dark hair between the slats of theplayhouse attached to the upper part of the set before another rock got chucked through toward Viktor. A weird sense of pride filled my chest when I realized it was Henry defending himself. Then I made a beeline toward Viktor, my focus narrowing until there was nothing but the line of his spine and the space between us.
I could’ve shot him from the doorway, but as much as I wanted the bastard dead, this kill was just as much Arden’s as it was mine. That truth stayed my hand. I shoved the muzzle into the back of Viktor’s head. He froze, slowly lifting his hands up. I butted the muzzle against him with a grunt, trying to get him to turn and face me, to stop looking anywhere near that boy. But he didn’t. Why wasn’t he fucking turning—Something slammed into me. I tipped over into the grass, throwing my rifle up, both hands gripping either end, to block the incoming attack. A guard in full tactical gear shoved his own gun beneath my chin. He spat in my face, yelling at me, but I didn’t dare let go of my gun. I kneed upward into his groin, but the asshole had a cup on, barely phased as he kept me pinned, forcing me to tilt my head back as the muzzle dug in further below my chin. Viktor must have told his attack dog to shut up, because the guard pressed his lips into a thin line of contempt before easing up, Viktor looking down at me.
It was the first time I’d looked into that man’s eyes in over a decade, and it was still one of the most evil gazes I’d ever been cursed with. The years hadn’t dulled it; they’d sharpened it, polished it into something practiced and unashamed. He was older now, dripping in the wealth he’d made off kids like me. The clothes, the confidence, the way he held himself all said the same thing—that he had never once believed he would pay for it. I had known so many Buyers, Halden included, that were the scum of the earth, but Viktor was one of the worst. He hadn’t just participated; he had built himself out of it, brick by brick, childby child. He was a perpetrator of child rape and degradation, and I didn’t care if at the end of today, Arden and I were back in cuffs. I wanted to see his body on fire, and I wished I had my ability to hear just to take in his screams.
“Rafe,” he said, and I read his lips, bile burning at the back of my throat. “It’s been a long time, kid. I didn’t think I’d get lucky enough to get you back, but here we are. You’ve got a hell of a debt to pay to the syndicate. Do you have any idea how much money you’ve cost them?Me?” He scowled and kicked the toe of his dress shoe through the patch of dry dirt beside my head, flinging it into my eyes and causing them to sting. “All you’ve done is waste time with that fucking prison sentence. If you wanted less freedom, you only needed to ask. You would be amazed at the creative ways there are to cage an asset these days.”
Hate was not a fucking strong enough word. I huffed, blinking rapidly, trying to clear my vision from the dirt.
"You're going to pay it back, Rafe. You all will," Viktor continued. "Every fucking penny. I don't care if it takes generations of Creed—you four made a grave mistake underestimating the syndicate. Gone and pissed the wrong people off." He clicked his tongue. "So much wasted potential but at least now we know where we went wrong with you. We won't make that mistake again."
The guard pushed beneath my chin harder, the chronic injury in my throat flaring with pain as I was forced to stretch those muscles. My frantic gaze darted to where Henry hid in the playhouse. I was only staying down for his sake. I couldn’t shoot, not with him out here. I wouldn’t risk it. Beating the shit out of these motherfuckers though was completely on the table.
“H-h-” I shouted, embarrassment stinging my cheeks as I hoped the words would be clear enough to understand. “He-nry…ru-n!” I banged my rifle upward, hitting the guard in thenose. He jerked back, covering it with a hand, and I took the opening, crushing upward and seeing Henry climbing down from the playhouse one-handed, his other lifting the bottom of his shirt that he was using as a makeshift carrier, rocks piled inside. I twisted, finally getting out from under the guard, but Viktor greeted me with his own gun, pushing it firmly into my chest when I lurched toward him. I snarled. If I had backup, I wouldn’t think twice. I would die. Right here. Right now. I’d miss my girl, but I’d have no regrets if it meant my life for Henry’s, and I knew Arden would do the very same.
But I didn’t have backup. If I died, then Viktor would scoop up the kids inside, Henry included, and put them straight back into hell. I was the only thing standing in his way. He nudged my chest with his gun.
