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In all the chaos, I lose sight of Rox, but I hear her shouting Star’s name as I step forward and ram my knife into the armpit of one of Rogers’ men as he points a gun to Smithy’s head. He falls to the ground, breath wheezing as he bleeds out and lungs filling with blood. I quickly cut away the zip ties on Smithy’s wrists, releasing him. When I look to the chair beside him, I see Star is no longer there, and I scan the room looking for her and Rox.
“Smithy, cut Maria and Rocky lose and get them out of here,” I tell him, giving him another small blade from my back pocket. I spin round as I hear a grunt and see Maddox fighting the biggest of Rogers’ men.
“Find Roxanne. She went after Rogers,” he tells me, as he takes a hit to the face thanks to the distraction. “Go, I’ve got this!” he yells, snapping the guy’s arm back with a loud crack.
I race for the front door, which is open, and out into the night air. I’m so focused on looking for Rox, that I don’t know someone is behind me until I feel a sharp stab of pain in my right rib cage, and I drop to my knees.
Bent over with one hand on the ground, pain blurring my vision, I watch as shoes come into view, black leather at the end of suit trousers.
“I hope you enjoyed your time with my daughter, Zak. And I hope your pathetic little empire and her were worth dying for.” He strides away, his trench coat flapping in the breeze.
I watch as he walks toward an outbuilding, a barn maybe, my eyes closing for a split second as I breathe in, causing white-hot pain to rip through my back and chest. I push through the pain and climb to my feet, but I only manage two steps before I fall to the ground. My eyes close again, but this time I don’t have the strength to open them.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Yet all I can think about is Rox.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Roxy
Icouldn’t listen anymore, and now I’m about to either get everyone here killed or finally get my fucking justice. My revenge.
Rogers’ grip on my throat tightens as he turns me to face Maddox and Zak, then I watch as the men I love receive a crunching punch to the face for my stupidity.
Neither of them reacts, and neither do I, outwardly at least. Inside, my blood is fucking boiling, and I’m ready to end this fucker in front of me.
He’s livid with my lack of emotion and when he spins away from me, I know he’s going after Star. She’s the one thing he knows will be my undoing.
I have to make a move now. While his back is turned, I look to Maddox and Zak, then to Noah, who gives the smallest of nods.
I lower my gun, and to everyone else it looks like I’m backing down but fuck that. I pull the trigger and yell, “Now”. I’m aiming for Rogers’ knee, but just as I do, he moves. The bullet glances the side of his thigh, causing him to roar in pain and stumble, but he rights himself and then grabs Star, yanking her from the chair by her hair. One of his dickhead henchmen, grabs my arm, pulling me back and spinning me round. As he raises his fist, I duck down and swipe the knife from my boot, jabbing him in the inside of his thigh, almost castrating him.
He screams like a fucking girl, and I yank my knife out, giving him a push. He topples over, clutching at his leg, blood pisses from it in spurts, and I’m guessing I hit his femoral artery.
There’s a flash of blonde tipped hair in the foyer as I see Rogers dragging Star out the front door, and I give chase. As I hit the front steps, I stop, looking left then right and catch sight of Rogers and Star as they disappear inside a barn.
Sliding my knife back into my boot, I don’t race but step slowly and carefully along the small dirt path leading to the barn. My brain is firing on all cylinders now, and the adrenaline is coursing through me like a raging torrent.
As I get closer, I can hear Rogers cursing, but what makes me pause is the soft whimpering I can hear coming from inside. There’s no way in the world that is just one person crying.
The door is open a little, and I peek inside. There are what look like stalls all along one wall, what I can see anyway. But they don’t have stable doors. No, there are bars. Fucking bars like a prison. These are not stalls for horses or cows, but prison cells, and inside several of them are young girls.
My stomach revolts at the sight, and that’s before I’ve even stepped foot inside. I can’t see Rogers from here, so I edge the door open and poke my head round to look further into the barn—no, prison block. With no sign of him, I slip inside, sidestepping along the wall to the first cell.
This one is empty but has been occupied recently, and I turn away, sure that if I allow my mind to even consider what happened here in this place, to the girl that was in this cell, my mind will never be the same again.
I look across the barn, and tear-stained cheeks and deep blue eyes full of sorrow and unimaginable pain watch me, and I raise a finger to my lips signalling for her to stay quiet. She dips her head, then points a finger to a room at the end of the barn.
I tiptoe to where she was pointing and see the room is set up like a child’s bedroom, complete with a single bed, toys and a wardrobe full of dresses and underwear. The bile that’s been threatening to escape since I saw a tiny sliver of what this barn contained, makes it way to my mouth, and I struggle to swallow it back down.
In the centre of the room stands Rogers, his back to me and with his hands on Star’s shoulders as he leans down and whispers in her ear. I don’t hesitate and step up behind him, gun raised and pointing at his head. But I don’t see the mirror till the last second, and it’s too late then because Rogers has already seen me.
His arm comes up in an arc, striking my face as Star yells my name. Her voice muffled due to most of the impact hitting my ear as I try to turn my face away.
My grasp slips on the gun, and it falls to the floor with a thud, but I remain on my feet, and manage to strike out a leg, sweeping Rogers’ feet away from beneath him. He drops to the floor like a sack of shit, and I search for my gun. Unable to see it, I pull the knife from my boot, and resting a booted foot on Rogers’ chest, it’s my turn to lean down and whisper to him now.
“I told you earlier that I’d cut you in places that will make you cry, and I fucking meant every word. I hope you’re ready for me.” I press the blade to the side of his neck, just nicking the skin enough to make a pearl of blood bloom there before it trickles down the side of his neck and stains the concrete beneath him.
“You haven’t got it in you,” Rogers sneers, but his poor attempt at bravado doesn’t fool me.
