Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
The PI suggested a route we could take, considering the ages of the kids in that basement, but that would fuck up their lives. I wasn’t going to do that.
According to Maddy, Beltraine wasn’t that bad of a guy. His friends either.
I was not a father like mine had been. If I knew a kid was being neglected or hurt, I was wading in. I didn’t give a fuck about the blowback. I’d take it all.
Sorry, Dad. You made things okay at the end, but I learned what not to be from you.
Channing rolled the truck to a stop farther down, by a field. It’d be missed at first glance.
“You guys ready?” he asked.
Brett and I both nodded. Ski-masks on.
Let’s do this.
40
MASON
We found two vehicles parked in the back, but no one was outside. Heading for the back door, Channing plastered himself against the wall. I was behind him, followed by Brett. As we waited, Channing turned and gave us a bunch of hand signals.
Awesome.
Neither of us spoke that language.
He waited for us to either respond, but we stayed put. I raised my eyebrows. Brett leaned out behind me and shook his head slowly, holding up a hand. We were clueless, not his normal bounty hunter crew. He groaned softly, giving us an exasperated look.
I frowned and edged around him, because if he was going to act like that, I had no problem going in and kicking ass without him. Brett followed, but Channing grabbed my arm just before I touched the door. He pulled me back, shaking his head.
We could hear voices from inside, and Channing didn’t like this door for some reason. He edged backward. Once we were far enough away, I asked, “Why don’t we all try a different door?”
He shook his head. “No. We might need backup.”
I fixed him with a look. “I’m willing to risk it.”
Channing was still frowning. “I don’t know. This whole place feels wrong. I’ve heard chatter that there’s a new fighting ring, besides the one the Red Demons run. If that’s this place, and if Moreaux is behind it, he’s got backing from someone else.”
“We’re not your usual crew,” I told Channing. “You can’t treat us like Moose or Congo.”
Brett smacked his fist into his palm.
Channing and I looked at him.
“What?” He lowered his hands.
“Okay. Let’s spread out,” Channing said. “Find an entry point and move in. Keep hidden. Mason, this is your show. We’ll wait for you to move first.”
I had no problem with that. “Got it.”
Channing grunted. “Move out.”
If Logan were here, he would’ve done his own version of hand signals right now just to play around. He’s coming, I reminded myself. Channing went back to the original door while Brett and I separated. He went to the east side of the building. I headed for the front.
We ended up meeting in the middle.
He scoffed at me, whispering, “Good plan.”
“Shut up.” I waited for him to get to my side and reached forward, testing the doorknob. It opened with a click. I held the door and slowly opened it, inch by inch, until I could get a better look inside.
Phillip Moreaux was yelling.
I edged the door open enough that I could slip inside, into what seemed like a coat room of some sort—a small room with another doorway without a door.
“You’re nothing but a failure,” Moreaux shouted.
There were sounds of running and panting, some cursing from the next room. “You think you tried your best tonight? You did nothing. You are nothing,” he continued, his voice was hoarse. “You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop. You hear me, you piece of shit?”
Brett stopped. His eyes went dead, and every part of him was rigid. I moved ahead to look around the corner. It was another fighting ring. A cage had been set up in the middle with metal walls that went high in the air. Old sweat, dirt, and the smell of blood lingered in the air. Two boys were in the cage. Shirtless. Their hands and feet taped. They only wore shorts. Their chests heaved and sweat and blood trickled down their faces. Axel and Steele.
The younger Moreaux was running back and forth on the side of the cage. He tagged down and sprinted back. Fuck. This place was hot, and Phillip was making his kid do shuttle runs?
I pulled my phone out, half of me going numb, the other half becoming bloodthirsty. I angled it in front of me and hit record.
“You’re going to keep fucking running until I tell you to stop!” he screamed. Then he turned toward the others. “Keep fucking hitting each other! You think you’re getting off easy? You hit until you’re red and raw.”
Axel glared at him, his hands jerking up before he stopped himself.
“What?” Phillip stomped over to him. “What, Axe?! You think you’re going to fucking tattle to your daddy? You think he gives a fuck about you? You want to stay friends with my son? Come to my house? Eat my food? Drink my liquor? You don’t think I’m aware that you basically live at my house, and I’m just going to be okay with it? You fucking hit that kid or you’re losing all privileges. And you,” he spat as he focused on Steele. “You want to keep living at my place, using my address, letting my family name cover for your lies, and your sister’s, then you get fucking swinging too. The one who knocks the other one out won’t have to do shuttle runs with this piece of loser shit my sperm brought into the world. As of now, your efforts are pathetic. You’re nothing. Why the fuck are you even here? You fucking little boys can’t do a goddamn thing for yourselves. Parasites. Every goddamn one of you. Burdens. You’re at my house because your parents don’t give a fuck where you are. If they did, you wouldn’t be here. Well, you’re going to earn your keep tonight. Keep fucking running! You hear me?” An ugly laugh burst from his chest. His face twisted in a smile that wasn’t a smile. It was soulless. “You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop! At this rate, we’ll be here all fucking night.” Another sick-sounding laugh chortled from him.