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Owned: Chapter 8

London

Headlights blurred from the cars on the highway behind me as I headed for the storage yard on the other side of the city. One by one they turned off or sped past when I slowed to a crawl. I had to be careful now. Maybe now more than ever. There was far too much at stake. Too many knives were up in the air…and all I needed was to slip just once and I’d kill us all.

I slowed the car and pulled onto the off-ramp, headed the long way around to the yard, and stopped outside the gates. Darkness consumed the view behind me as I pressed in the code, waited for the gates to open, and drove through.

Do you want her that much, London?

Hale’s words filled me as I parked the car around the back and killed the engine. The bastard knew I did and he dangled the goddamn contract like a piece of meat in front of me, knowing full well I was starving.

Three million dollars.

It was more than Killion had paid for Ryth, I knew that.

I climbed out of the car and closed the door behind me. I would’ve paid more for Vivienne. I adjusted my jacket and glanced around the open area of the yard—I would’ve paid a lot more.

Seething fury filled me as I headed for the external door, pressed my card against the lock, and stepped through. I was desperate, more than desperate. I was cornered with my back to the wall and I didn’t like it. No, I didn’t like it at all. I headed past the other rooms and the other visitors and made my way to the one room I cared about. The room where Jack Castlemaine waited, holding his daughter’s life in his hands.

Humm.

My phone vibrated as his door came into view. I lifted my hand and stared at the screen, scowling before I answered. “Did you get the information I wanted?”

“No.”

Shit.

“There was a problem…” Carven added carefully, his blunt tone a little more caustic than normal.

“Tell me.”

“We were fucking ambushed. It wasn’t just any damn biker bar we walked into, was it? It was one who was an ally of King himself.”

“A fucking ally? How the hell does King have alliances with the goddamn HellFire Rebels?”

“I don’t know. But he does.”

I dragged my fingers through my hair. “How bad?”

“Colt was glassed. Stupid fuck stepped in when I had a handle on the situation.”

That was a lie. Because there was only one way Colt would ever put himself in danger, that was to save his brother. Memories hit me. The sons were ten years old when I’d found them the first time. Colt was beaten bloody, slipping in and out of consciousness after protecting his younger brother.

He took all the beatings.

Drawing their wrath and fury by lashing out at the wardens of the Hale Orphanage time and time again. He was a savage when I found him, bruised, broken…and mute.

It took me a fucking year to get them out. A whole fucking year in that place. That kind of damage was irreparable. I turned around and headed back for the door. “Where are you now, at the hospital?”

“No. He refused to go. We’re at home.”

I stopped walking. “At home?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I patched him up and dressed the wounds. He’s sleeping…”

Sleeping? Carven wouldn’t interrupt me to tell me his brother had been hurt but was now fine without a reason. “And…” I urged.

“He held her hand, London. He held her damn hand and refused to let her leave. He spoke, and you know he rarely speaks. But he spoke for her. He…spoke…for…her.”

He spoke for her?

My heart thudded. I swallowed the flare of jealousy, picturing him holding onto her. She’d let him, too. She’d let him because she’d felt bad after what she did. I knew her, better than she knew herself. “That’s good,” I answered, turning back to Jack Castlemaine’s door. “I’ll be done as soon as I can.”

“I need to go out, tie up some loose ends. He’s asleep now, the weather is clear, only stars in the sky, so we should be good.”

No storms…

Not tonight.

“Good. See you soon.”

I hung up the call and placed my phone back into my pocket before I pressed my card against the scanner and opened the door. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, the chairs were empty, and the bed was pushed against the far wall, as well. One careful scan and I found him standing against the wall, facing away from me.

I had no doubt he’d heard my conversation, but what little information he gleaned from that would be minimal. Jack wasn’t a player in this game…he was a pawn—one who stood between me and King.

I closed the door, drawing his gaze.

Jack turned to me, his dark eyes looking even more haunted in the gloom.

“We’re running out of time, Castlemaine,” I murmured as I unbuttoned my jacket and slipped it off. “Any moment now, Haelstrom is going to track Ryth and her brothers down and there won’t be a damn thing I can do to stop it.”

I dropped my jacket across the back of the armchair and kept walking. That merciless side of me pushed to the surface. “I can only keep her safe for so long, Jack. You understand that, right? My men are there watching her, ready to move in on my word, but still…”

He didn’t flinch at the threat, just watched me carefully as I stopped in front of him. I glanced at the dressing taped across his shoulder. He looked a little pathetic standing there against the wall. Small…insignificant.

“All it takes is one call,” I pushed him. “One call, and her life is forfeit.” Those dark eyes held mine as I continued. “Give me the information I want and I promise she won’t be harmed.”

Something passed through his stare. A flicker of rage before it passed. He was angry…good.

“You think King gives a shit about you? You think he gives you a second thought? He’s ruthless…and dangerous and he’s going to get your daughter killed, Jack. You raised her as your own. You protected her…and you need to protect her now. Give me King and I’ll make sure no one touches a hair on her head.”

“You won’t hurt her.”

I stopped with the quiet words, then answered carefully. “No? How can you be sure?”

Jack just searched my gaze.

I clenched my fists. “Tell me where you meet him.” They were the same goddamn questions, questions he evaded out of some sense of loyalty. “Tell me how he contacts you. Tell me what he looks like.”

His brow furrowed.

I lashed out, grabbed him around his throat, and unleashed a snarl as I swung my fist. Crack! The blow collided with the side of his mouth and he stumbled sideways, slamming against the wall.

But not once did he move to defend himself.

No.

Jack Castlemaine was weak…

Weaker than anyone I’d ever known.

Agony tore through me as I stared at what I’d done. My knuckles burned as he straightened, blood smeared at the corner of his lips. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t think. My stomach was a hard knot in my belly. You have to do this…you have to do this. YOU HAVE TO DO THIS!

I grabbed him around the throat, driving him back against the wall. “You will tell me what I want to know, Castlemaine. You will tell me…”

Jack held my stare before he turned his head and spat. Flecks of blood and spittle flew through the air to smack against the cold concrete floor.

“You will tell me,” I snarled, shoving him away. “You’ll fucking tell me.”

But he just held my stare with blood running down his fucking face.

That stare unnerved me.

Maybe it was the smear of his blood across my knuckles.

Or my own goddamn guilt for doing this.

I reached into my pocket, pulled a handkerchief free, and wiped his blood from my knuckles before shoving it back. “For both our sakes,” I muttered as I turned and strode for the door, grabbing my jacket from the chair as I went.

The door closed behind me with a thud, and the sound echoed with my footstepsGuilt weighed me down as I made my way outside. I didn’t want to be this version of myself. I didn’t like it. But I would become it. I’d channel that hate and desperation and rage into Jack Castlemaine’s face if it meant I’d get what I wanted.

I pushed through the door and headed for my car, hit the remote, and climbed in behind the wheel.

My knuckles throbbed. I clenched my fist and stared at the smear Jack left behind.

Hard breaths moved through me. I was reaching for my phone before I knew it, then I opened the apps and pulled up the camera feed. I flicked through to the sons’ room, finding Colt’s hulking shape under the dark comforter. The shackles hung under the mattress, unused for tonight. He shifted as I watched, pressing his hand against his side.

He held her hand, London, and refused to let her leave. He spoke for her…he…spoke…for…her.

“He spoke for her…” I repeated aloud.

I pressed the button, flicked to her room, and narrowed in the camera. The room was dark…but the expensive camera still picked up everything—including her empty bed. I scowled and pressed the button for her bathroom.

Nothing.

I pressed again, cycling through the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room.

Nothing…

“What the fuck,” I snarled as my cheeks burned, and shifted the view to my study.

But the room was empty, the door still locked. Panic filled me and made my hands tremble and my chest burn. Frantically, I flicked through the entire house, stopping on my bedroom before I moved on…

Until something caught my attention.

A sliver of darkness that wasn’t usually there.

I’d stared at the camera feeds of my house so many times I knew every angle and every shadow…but this—this was different. I narrowed in, letting the focus adjust before I froze. “No…no, you fucking did not.”

Anger gave way to excitement, then torment as I stared at the cracked open door.

I stabbed the button and the engine of the Audi roared to life before I tossed the phone aside, leaving it to bounce against the passenger’s seat as I shoved the car into reverse. I left all thoughts of Jack Castlemaine and King behind as I punched the accelerator and raced for home. All I could think about was that cracked open door…And the basement that she was no doubt exploring…

On her fucking own.


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