“We’re goin’ to get him out—that’s what we do. The club won’t give up the fight until he’s back where he belongs.”
“I know you’re all upset at Zariah, but she was just doing her job.”
“Yeah.”
“She’s risking a lot to help us.”
“Know that, too.”
“Mykel?” I say, swallowing.
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
He pulls me until I fall into his arms and my cheek is resting on his chest. “Don’t ever be scared while I’m here, Waverly. Not goin’ to let anything happen to you.”
The thing is, he’s telling the truth.
I believe him.
I’ve always believed him.
I don’t plan on stopping now.
THE MORNING COMES, and as we make our way to the club, Mykel and I say nothing to each other. We’re both thinking the same thing? What the hell are we going to do now? How the hell are we going to find Dax? What is going to fix this goddamned big mess we’ve managed to create for ourselves?
It seems like there’s no end to this nightmare.
When we arrive, complete chaos is erupting. The moment we walk inside, we see Briella, who is rushing out towards the front door, tears rolling down her cheeks, her hands covered in . . . blood. Oh god, is she okay? My eyes widen at the very sight of her, and I rush over, stopping her. She looks up at me, makes a hiccupping sound, and then starts crying.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“He’s lost it. He’s lost it.” She says this over and over again.
Mykel looks to her, and then leans down close and asks, “Where is he?”
“Shed.”
He picks up his pace as he goes out there, and I carefully take Briella and sit her down on the sofa. She’s crying, her whole body shaking, and whatever just happened has her shaken up in a big way. “Talk to me,” I say to her, keeping my arm around her shoulder.
“He’s got three men out there, men who apparently work for or with Dax. He’s just . . . he’s just torturing them. I went in there, and he was going crazy, just punching this guy over and over, like a goddamned psycho. I tried to stop him, but he . . . he wasn’t even with it.”
She looks down at her hands, and they’re shaking.
“Let’s get this blood off you.”
I take her to the bathroom so she can wash the blood off her hands. I know exactly how that feels, and there’s no worse feeling. When her hands are clean, we sit back down. She’s trembling, and I feel terrible for her. I know how scared she is right now, and Briella is a strong girl. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, putting my arm around her again. “He’s just . . . he’s struggling.”
“It’s not his fault. If anyone is to blame for all of this, it’s me. I came back into this town looking for Magnolia, and I started the war with Dax. I was the one who insisted on finding out what happened, and who he was. If I didn’t do that, none of this would have come about.”
“You’re wrong,” I say to her. “King was looking for Dax, and had been for years. This is something that would have come around eventually, honey. You have to know that. Alarick is struggling right now because one of his club members is in prison, and the person responsible got away. He just needs to get it out of his system.”
“Murdering people isn’t exactly how he should be doing that!” She shakes her head, dropping it into her hands.
“They’re a club, and while we see the kinder side to them, they’re still a club. They do what they have to do, and it’s not really up to us to get involved. Let them sort out what they need to. Do you want me to take you for a drive? Clear your head?”
“No,” she says softly, standing. “I just need to take a walk. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
She gives me a weak smile and then disappears out the front door. I watch her go and make my way down to the shed. I’m not sure I want to see what’s going on in there, but at the same time, I know that I’ve come this far alongside of them—I’m not about to stop now. I step through the door and immediately am assaulted by the coppery smell of blood.
Alarick is standing in front of three tied men on chair, they’re hands roped tightly behind their backs, and they’re all absolute messes. Bloodied knives lay on a table beside him, and he’s covered in blood, his fists swollen. I’ve never pictured him like that, but seeing him standing there, is utterly terrifying. Cohen is standing beside him, Mykel on the other side, and they’re both bloodied, too.
King is in the corner, arms crossed, his face expressionless as he lets his son take over the worst job the club probably has—dealing with scum.
I’m surprisingly not upset by the sight in front of me, because those men, and anyone involved with Dax, deserve everything they get. Not to mention, someone in this club has betrayed everything they stand for, and they’re not exactly about to forget that. They’re going to do what they have to do to get answers.
I guess this is what they have to do.
“You can’t be in here.”
Samson’s voice comes from behind me, and I spin around to see him walking in with a hammer in his hand. I don’t even want to know what he plans on doing with that. Nope, I’m not going to think about it.
“I need to talk to Alarick,” I say firmly.
“He’s busy right now.”
“I know that.”
“Come back later.”
“Samson . . .”
“Waverly, come back later.”
I swallow and meet his eyes, and the expression he’s giving me is telling me that he’s not going to take no for
