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“Bet,” Killer snickers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
The group of us has split up, and we’re hitting different sides of the house in smaller groups of two to three men. I’m walking with Killer and Chains up the driveway directly to the garage. It’s propped open with a piece of cinderblock, so I lean down and roll the garage door up quietly. Upon opening the door, I was a bit surprised by how the place looked. There’s only framing in here, not even any insulation or drywall. The wiring for the light above is completely exposed.
I don’t pay too much attention to it and pull out my gun in case I need it as we scope out the rest of the place. For now, we’ll leave the garage door open, and we walk in through the doorway leading into the house. I slowly push it open, careful to not make any additional noise, and notice the same thing. There is no insulation or framing, and the kitchen cabinets are torn out, yet there’s a working sink, an older stove that has to be from the early 90s, and a fridge that appears to be older than that.
Killer and Chains furrow their brows and look around the space as well. This joint looks fucked up as all hell.
The more I walk through this house, the angrier I become. Luna shouldn’t have to live in such fear all of the time. She shouldn’t have this toll on her mental health either.
We clear the entire first floor and find the same shit. Barren, open home with barely anything in here. The only place where there’s drywall is around a closet of some sort. I place my hand on the doorknob and turn it, pulling the door open. Only to realize it isn’t a closet at all. It’s a stairwell.
I flick on the light switch and proceed to walk down the stairwell. Killer and Chains are close behind me, so close that if I stop, they will fall on top of one another.
Once I’m at the bottom of the steps, it’s the same sort of theme. No insulation. This doesn’t look like the kind of place he’d live in, and there are barely any personal belongings. Is there anything useful that I’m going to find here? At all?
I continue walking through the space, and Killer takes the other side.
Within a couple of minutes, he speaks up in a shocked voice, “I’ll be damned.” Combat boots clack against the concrete floor. Chains and I rush over to see what the fuss is about, and there’s a woman shoved in a small dog crate. I can’t tell if she’s alive or not.
She’s got black hair with pieces of platinum blonde near the front. It looks kind of like how Rogue’s hair did inX-Men.
Killer’s already at the crate and is rushing as he opens the gate. Surprisingly, as soon as the woman hears the clacking of the metal, she yanks her head back, desperately trying to force her body closer to the back of the crate. She’s fucking terrified. Any of us can see that.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you . . . I saw you in this cage and only wanted to get you out,” Killer’s speaking as calmly and delicately as possible to her, but her icy gray eyes are drilling into him. She doesn’t trust us, and she doesn’t have to. Who the hell knows what she’s endured while she’s been here.
“W-who are you?” she rasps out, her voice sounding like she hasn’t had a drink in days.
I glance around the room and find a case of water sitting within her view, so I walk over slowly and, grab a bottle out, then hand it to Killer. He hands it to her but looks at Chains and I like we’re a problem. “I’m Killer, and this is Chains and Sarge. We’re members of a motorcycle club, looking for the sick bastard who owns this place. The same fucker who put you in there, no doubt,” Killer hisses at the end, and for a slight second, I notice the woman is open to trusting him. He’s well on his way to proving we’re not a threat to her.
“Kevin, sick son of a bitch,” she rasps out again, then opens the bottle of water and guzzles half of it down in a matter of seconds.
“What’s your name?” Killer asks.
“S-Simone.” Her voice sounds a bit better now since she’s gotten some water. Footsteps from upstairs signal that the other brothers have come inside.
“We need to put the garage door the way it was,” I say to Chains, who nods.
“Yeah, go on up. We’ll be upstairs in a couple of minutes.” I do as my VP says and head up the stairwell, grateful we got to this woman before Kevin came back. Obviously, he’s been here, but I need to find something useful while I’m here. Simone is here, so there must be someplace he’s been stashing his shit.
“You find somethin’?” Brick asks, furrowing his brows as he looks at the basement door.
“Kevin has a woman stuck in a dog cage down there.” I shake my head.
“She dead?” Ripper asks.
“No, she’s alive, thankfully. Killer’s talking to her now. Chains is down there with them. Did any of you find anything while you’ve been up here?”
“I found this in the bathroom, stuffed in the cabinet underneath the sink,” Brick says, handing me an old wallet. It’s an old driver’s license with his birth date, which will be helpful as we look into him further.
“You keep this for now and look into it when we get back. I want to know everything I can about him.”
Brick nods and takes the wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.
“What in the fuck?!” a man’s deep voice begins hollering from the garage.
I put my hands up and silently tell the bikers in the room to back up, getting out of sight. The man we’ve been waiting for is home, and I can’t wait to show him his welcoming committee.
Kevin comes charging in, and I finally put a face to the name. Luna told me he was a dark-haired ‘bad boy’ with a neck tattoo, but all he looks like to me is a fucking scumbag punk.
