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It's the last thing I hear before I feel the prick of the needle in the side of my neck.
And then I don't hear or see anything at all.
4
SILAS
Time is a fickle thing. It’s fluid and static at the same time. It’s too long and never enough. And when your time is up, fate snaps your strings with a flick of its wrist and the world keeps spinning.
I don’t remember much of the drive, only that Bane and Nova tried calling them over, and over, and over again. No one ever answered. At some point, I tuned it out for self-preservation. The perverse kind of self-preservation that protected me from their collective escalating anxiety, but only so I could turn on myself.
What-if scenarios play before my eyes for an eternity, each one more devastating than the last. And then when I’ve worked myself up to expect the absolute worst, my mind flips a switch and the self-loathing drips into me like a leaky faucet.
Every mistake I’ve made, every time I lost my temper, every moment I failed. I took all those sleepless nights with baby Hunter in my arms for granted.
Each moment in time feels like acid falling into the roiling mess of snakes inside my gut. And I force myself to live in it for the rest of the drive. If something happened to my boy or Ma—or even the woman who has become so much more than the fucking nanny—I’ll never forgive myself.
I blink, and I’m in front of the compound. We pull in, and the first thing I notice is the gate hanging off the hinges and the security hut absolutely wrecked.
People fill the courtyard between the clubhouse and the garages, and I slow down, scanning their faces. But I don’t spot any children, so I don’t bother getting out. I already know they’re not here. Red and blue lights bounce off of everything, the pulsing tempo adding to the whole idea that this is some fever-induced nightmare.
“Stop here,” Nova barks. “I’ll check the clubhouse. You assholes better call me if you find them at the house.”
Bane nods. “Likewise. Don’t fucking forget, either.”
Knowing my brother, he’d probably pin Evangeline up against a wall and get lost in her. He was always too wrapped up in her, blowing shit off and forgetting his responsibilities. Or maybe I’m projecting a little bit. Despite everything and the tangled mess that is sharing a single woman amongst three men, I know he loves my son. And if he found him inside, he would call me without hesitation.
I ease off the gas pedal, tapping the brake long enough for Nova to jump out of the backseat. He slams the door shut without another word, sprinting toward the clubhouse. I catch a glimpse of him in the side mirror, face pinched in determination. Some people break off the crowd and jog toward him, but then I lose sight of him as I curve around the bend in the road.
I accelerate past Ma’s house, knowing she’d either go to my house or be at the clubhouse. She wouldn’t stay at her place.
Astonishment washes over me as I take in the scene in front of me. The chaos and destruction are like something out of a movie. Bodies lie scattered on the ground, smoke streams from something smoldering on my front lawn, and bikes are haphazardly strewn above.
A moat of men and bikes draw a line separating us and my house. Fear soaks my skin in a fine sweat as I stop. I’m paralyzed for a moment, disbelief and panic oozing out of my open mouth. I can’t believe this is happening again.
There are plenty of ways to incite war, to fight for cities and territory. But this? This is more than a declaration, this is a fucking massacre. Not a message or a warning. There’s nothing covetous about this play. There’s only devastation.
“Fuck,” Bane exhales, pushing open his door and running toward his house.
I throw the car in park and fling open the door in the next breath, not even bothering to remove the keys. My sole goal is finding my family. Even though I know—I just fucking know—they aren’t here. Either they fled or they’re?—
No. I won’t let myself think of the alternative. Ma called me. That means she had some warning. And in this game, a minute can mean the difference between life or death.
I step over a few bodies and tipped-over bikes, ignoring all of it. Including the groaning coming from Bane’s lawn. I don’t give a fuck about him or anything else. Later, when we’re all safe and together again, I’m going to have some fucking choice questions about who’s dropping bodies on my lawn. Last I heard, Evangeline was a city girl and Ma just had shoulder surgery.
I take the porch stairs two at a time. The sight of the front door, splintered and damaged as if someone kicked it in sends a chill down my spine. My boots crunch on the shards of wood and broken glass that litter the floor.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing through the empty house. “Hunter? Ma?” I frantically search every room on the first floor, checking in all of Hunter’s usual hiding spots.
My heart stutters with worry. “Evie?” I shout, racing up the stairs in a desperate attempt to find any signs of them.
But the second floor looms just as desolate and abandoned as the first. The once pristine hallway is now littered with debris, evidence of a violent struggle.
My footsteps echo loudly against the walls as I make my way toward my bedroom. My steps falter when I find a face-down Savage Soul in my bedroom. Dresser tipped over, the closet door flung open, and all my shit tossed around the room. My heart slams against my ribs, the flimsy thing beating with the strength of a butterfly.
Hope surges as I dive for the back of my closet, where a hidden door awaits. I can’t remember if Ma knew about the real reason Bane and I built a tunnel between our houses. It’s another exit point, but more importantly, it’s built to withstand any attack or collapse.
It’s essentially a bomb shelter.
