Chapter Twenty-Six
AYDA
I’d always thought the sound of the cavalry showing up so quickly would make me feel better; that the familiar sound of those Harley’s pulling in behind us on any battlefield would be a comfort. They’d managed to get here so quickly. So much faster than the last time we’d found ourselves in a precarious situation such as this one. Only this time, I didn’t feel like I was about to be rescued. I didn’t feel like we were out of trouble.
It didn’t take much to understand that Travis had not only expected this call for backup, but he’d planned for it, too. From the look on his face and the cackle of laughter, he’d actually fucking hoped for this to happen.
The crazed glint in the president of the Navarro Rifles eyes made him look scarily maniacal. Travis wasn’t looking at me right now, though. His eyes were on Drew. All of this was for an audience of one with the sole purpose of torturing Drew any way he could.
Slater and Jedd were the first to enter the warehouse. Both of them had their guns raised, and their steps were cautious as they rounded the corner, waiting for the situation to present itself. The moment the two of them saw the odd altar withDrew, Travis, Eric and me staged in front of it, they froze in place. Neither one of them seemed sure what to do next, but it was too late, anyway. Another four Navs stepped out from the shadows with their guns aimed true at our men’s heads.
So much for small numbers.
“I’m impressed,” Trigger spread out his hands like he was a leather-clad messiah and smirked. “Why don’t you take a seat and join us, boys? The party’s just getting started.”
With a glance at Drew, both Jedd and Slater stepped forward, remaining flanked by the armed Navs.
Deeks, Kenny, and Moose came next, already disarmed as they were followed by another four Navs who had assault rifles pointed at their backs. I was pretty sure that there would be no more rescuers. I figured they’d have left some of the guys back at The Hut to keep it safe. But, before Travis could go on, another disturbance came through the back of the building, and two more Navs pushed Ben through with such force he lost his footing and hit his head against one of the rusted old machines at the back.
Ben hit the ground hard, a loud crack breaking the odd silence that I hadn’t realized had descended over us.
I tried to move to help him without thinking, but I was pulled back by the grip on my hand, my body brushing against Drew’s, while my eyes watched a slow, steady stream of blood pool around Ben’s head. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, his eyes opening as he raised a weak hand to his temple. Ben wasn’t dead, but he was no use to Drew now.
My movement seemed to attract Trigger’s attention, his upturned palms balling before releasing again. He still didn’t think much of women from what I could remember of our last meeting. His dark eyes assessed me coldly, disgust passing behind the soulless pits as his lip curled to reflect his distaste. To Trigger Gatlin, I was merely a means to an end, a tool to be used against Drew. The chill in his eyes made my stomach rollviolently because it was at that moment that I truly understood what my part was in this little performance he was putting on.
Drew cared about a lot of things in his life, and he loved a lot of people, too. Over the course of our relationship, however, he’d made it more than clear to his friends and enemies that I was important to him, and Trigger knew that to truly hurt Drew, to really get under his skin and wound him, he had to hurt me first.
I was expendable. His plan would be to torture me and kill me, then he would move on to Drew’s brothers, completely obliterating what was left of the club before killing him, too. He wanted to hollow Drew out and send him into Hell with nothing but the dark, desperate memories that would stay with him in his damnation.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Iwouldn’tlet that happen.
Glancing up at the man next to me, the man I loved, I ignored the growl of Trigger Gatlin. That silent communication we used so often and came so naturally made it easy for me to let him know I was ready for this fight, that I wasn’t going to cower, and I wasn’t going to risk our child either. I was going to fight for our family, every last one of us, and I would fight for survival, even if I had to kill for it.
“Looks like we have the last of our witnesses,” Trigger mused with smug satisfaction, drawing my eyes to him. “Now, where was I?”
“How long have you had this planned, Trigger?” Drew asked. There was a steely coolness in Drew’s expression, his voice calm yet powerful.
Trigger turned to Eric, pointing up at him before he glanced over his shoulders to look at every Hound, including Drew. “Does this look at all familiar to you?” He frowned. “A recreation of anything, perhaps? Like you’re experiencing deja vu? I can’t quite put my finger on where I’ve seen this before.”Trigger ran his hand over his chin, his expression turning pensive. This great act of his now in full flow before he brightened and dropped his hand to click his fingers together. “Oh, that’s right.” He nodded slowly, moving closer to Drew until he was standing toe-to-toe with him. “This reminds me of the live footage Chester Cortez streamed to me of you hanging in chains, blood oozing out of your fresh knife wounds. It reminds me of the way you swung helplessly in those chains, the rattling metal sending delicious shivers down my spine when I realized that you, the once great, formidable Drew Tucker, was about to die at the hands of the weaker enemy: those stupid, gun-happy, over-inflated egos we used to laugh at. The Emps.”
A few chuckles of rough laughter came from behind us, The Navarro Rifles men clearly enjoying their position of power.
“Tell me, Drew,” Trigger began, “how did it feel to know you were bested by those fools?”
“I’m still breathing, aren’t I?” Drew said through gritted teeth. “I’m flesh and bone. They’re nothing more than ash.”
“Hmm.” Trigger smiled. “So you are.”
I probably should have been shocked that Trigger had such an insight to our own personal nightmare, but the whole situation with Owen, and learning about how deep his betrayal ran, I wasn’t—not even close.
Drew shifted, leaning closer. “You want my flesh, Trigger? Come and fucking get it,” he ground out. “But quit the dramatics. I’ve played enough games with enough pricks to last me a damn lifetime. For once, I wish an enemy would have the balls to cut to the chase and get to the point. This flair for wanting attention y’all are breeding is really starting to piss… me… off.”
Trigger’s face fell instantly, his eyes turning icy as he stared right into Drew’s.
“What. The fuck. Do you want?” Drew whispered coolly.
“Nothing you can provide me with can get you out of here, Drew,” Trigger answered, his voice as low and steely as Drew’s. “You involved us when you buried that Emp on our turf. You disrespected our club when you acted out ghastly deeds wearing a fake tattoo of our patch on your skin. You put the target on your own back when your actions resulted in the death of one of my own—”
