One of the bay doors is partly open at the end, light spilling out onto the concrete slab in front of it. As we move closer, I can hear a voice, low and rhythmic.
I motion for Grant to circle around the back.Got you, he mouths before he melts into the darkness without a word.Georgia stays close to Madeline, her hand clamped over her mouth like she’s trying to keep herself from making a sound.
We edge toward the opening. I hold my arm out so they know to stay behind me as I peer inside.
Emily is there, tied to a chair in the center of the concrete floor, a piece of duct tape across her mouth. She’s conscious, eyes wide and terrified, tracking Joey as he paces in front of her. I spot the silver blade in his hand—a knife, long and thin. He turns it over in his hands like he’s examining a tool.
“…should have listened to me,” Joey is saying, his voice weirdly calm and… giddy? “I told you Murphy was dangerous. I told you she was going to ruin everything. Ruin you. But you didn’t believe me. Do you believe me now?” I can see from his profile a creepy smile taking over his face. Holy fuck, does this dipshit think he’s out here playing the joker?
Emily makes a muffled sound against the tape. Joey stops pacing and crouches down in front of her.
“But you didn’t care. Just like my mother. You think you’re too good for me.” He slowly stands again. “Bet you’re not thinking that now, are you? Bet you’d beg for me to keep you,” he says, the last part almost tenderly. “I took care of her. For us. Just like Dad took care of my mother. We protect what’s ours.”
I don’t even understand half the bullshit this motherfucker is saying. He’s got his own story playing out in his head. The reality is neither of these dipshits can handle rejection. Tears start to roll down Emily’s cheeks. She might be getting the same sense that I am. He’s going to strike soon. If he planned to keep her like a little captive, she’d be in the house locked away. Unless this is all to scare her first.
Either way, I know time is running out. I give a stop motion to the girls before I step through the doorway.
Joey’s head snaps up. He doesn’t look surprised. He looks... relieved.
“Luke,” he says, slowly smiling. “I wondered when you and your little team would figure it out. You’re smarter than you look.”
“Let her go, Joey.”
“Which one?” He gestures with the knife toward Emily. “The one who came crawling back to me for protection, for help?” He turns slightly to face me more.
“Come on out, ladies,” he calls louder, “or I’ll stab her now.” Both of them step out. “There she is.” His eyes lock on Madeline, and it takes all my control to not react. “The other one”—he nods toward Madeline—“who thinks she’s too good for this town after being at Kingmakers for half a second before turning into one of them.”
“Joey.” Madeline gentles her voice. “You’re not a killer.” I beg to differ.
“Aren’t I?” he laughs, a broken sound. “My father killed the woman who tried to take me from him. Who was too good for us. Then I killed Murphy.”
“Did you kill her for some kind of justice for what she’s been doing with students or because you’re jealous that, just like your father, you didn’t get picked either?”
“I wasn’t done talking!” he bellows, raising the knife to his temple; he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Now where was I?”
“Doing a fucking lot of bitching like a bitch boy.” I shake my head, feigning irritation, and announce, “Are you almost finished with this little monologue? Or do you want to tell us how your daddy taught you how to cut women up?”
“Don’t you fucking talk about my father.” The calm cracks, rage bleeding through. He holds the knife out, pointed at me now. “He protected us.” Spit flies out as he speaks. “Wouldn’t letanyonedisrespect us. He wanted me; he kept me safe, and I feel it’s time I keep the whole town safe from the Kingmakers. Afterthis massacre, I’m sure those parents won’t be sending any kids back to this town.”
I wouldn’t be too sure of that.
“Cool story, bro.” Utter rage flashes across his face. Perfect. Rage makes you sloppy. The madder he gets, the more distracted he gets. I know now is my chance if I’m going to make a move, and I take it.
I charge him.
I hear the girls scream behind me. Joey is caught off guard.
He raises the knife back to swing, but I’m already inside his reach, driving my shoulder into his chest. We crash into a workbench, tools scattering across the concrete. A wrench rolls past my foot as Joey’s elbow catches my cheek, snapping my head back.
“Luke!” Madeline screams.
“Get her out!” I shout, grappling for the knife. “Get Emily and run!” I order, trusting that Madeline will live up to her word.
Joey fights dirty—knee up, fingers clawing at my eyes, teeth snapping toward my throat. But fighting dirty is the name of my game. He picked the wrong one.
He is desperate and stronger than I thought he’d be. We spin, crashing against the chair Emily is tied to. She screams against the tape.
“You’re all dead,” Joey hisses, spit flying. “You privileged assholes, thinking you can just take?—”
