Page 31 of The Awakening

The pain that sparks in my stomach the moment I step away from her is unbearable. It’s a hurricane of destruction tearing my insides apart as I step further and further away. Fuck, get it together, Everett. Focus on what you have to do.

Dean and I wait for the call from Stone and Cain that will tell us they’ve started the loop video on the security cameras. It doesn’t take long before Stone’s voice comes through my earpiece telling us it’s safe to proceed. That means she did it. She and Arno should now be making their way up the driveway to the house.

“Fuck, let’s go, we don’t have much time,” I whisper over my shoulder to Dean as we both take off towards the small stone building. A building we’re both all too familiar with. Making it to the side of the building, we press our bodies against the cold, wet stones and inch our way along the side, hyperaware of any movement or sounds from lurking guards. It’s quiet, only the sounds of the leaves blowing in the wind fill the air. Rounding the corner, I freeze when I see movement coming from the door of the building. A guard exits the room, closing and locking the door behind him and taking off towards the front of the compound.

“The call was just sent through the radio. All men are headed towards the front of the compound. That means you don’t have much time,” Stone whispers to us through our earpieces.

“Shit, let’s go, mate. The longer we take, the longer they’ll need to stall,” Dean whispers from behind me before he takes off towards the door. He makes quick work of the door, placing a small explosive on the door handle. After securing the explosive, he looks at me, giving me a slight nod before we both turn our faces away. The small bomb detonates with a muffled boom—not loud enough to raise concern.

The door handle instantly crumbles, the door swinging open as we both rush into the small room, our guns at the ready in case any other guards are inside. To our surprise, it’s empty. The only audible noise is our heavy breathing as we scan the room for the trapdoor. The air in this building is damp and smells of mold, just how I remembered it.

“There, in the corner.” Dean spots the door, and we rush towards it. Grabbing the handle, he lifts the weight of the door with ease. He props the door against the stone wall, and we both peer down inside. Wooden stairs lead into the darkness of the tunnels. We waste no more time; Dean enters the cramped entrance and takes the steps slowly so as not to fall. Following close behind him, I tap his shoulder once, reminding him there’s supposed to be a guard, someone close to guard the room Colson occupies. He doesn’t answer me, just nods his head once in understanding.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, my boots meet the dirt ground, the tunnel only leading one way. The ground is illuminated by tiny lights that line the length of the tunnel all the way to the first turn. Dean and I stand side by side, guns raised as we silently make our way down the tunnel. The further into the tunnel we go, the more the air smells of earth and soil. There is a slight decline as we walk, letting me know we are walking further and further into the earth itself. Stopping before he makes it to the first corner, Dean leans his back against the stone wall, and I do the same. Carefully, he peers around the corner, just barely able to see anything, so as not to alert anyone to our presence. Turning to face me, he raises his hand to me, lifting one finger. I nod, grabbing the silencer out of my back pocket and twisting it on the barrel of my pistol. Switching positions, I stand in front of Dean before peering around the corner. I raise my pistol and take the shot. One shot and he’s down.

“Right, let’s go. Time is running out.” Dean rushes from behind me, heading straight for the door. He twists the knob, but it’s locked. I kneel down beside the now very dead guard and fish through his pockets to find a key. Reaching into his back pocket, I smile.

“Bingo.” I yank out the key and toss it to Dean, who makes quick work of the lock. Before opening the door, we prepare ourselves. Whatever’s beyond this door, good or bad, we need to keep our heads on straight. Sloan is quite literally in the lion’s den, so whatever state we find Colson in, we have to hold it together, get him to safety, and get back to our girl. I watch as Dean’s hand reaches for the handle, and I notice a slight tremor he’s trying to hide. This is our brother. Our brother who’s been gone for six months and until recently, we thought was dead. A tsunami of emotions washes over my entire body, from my head to my now damp feet. My chest is constricting, and I fear we’ve waited too long.

Without any more hesitation, Dean slowly turns the knob. The door creaks open slowly as our eyes are met with harsh lighting. It takes a moment and several blinks to get our eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting that hangs from the ceiling. The room is small, no bigger than a walk-in closet. Nothing occupies the room except for a single chair. A chair that’s occupied by someone whose face is covered with a black sack.

Examining the man, I notice his legs are secured to large metal hooks that’ve been cemented into the ground. His arms are extended over his head and tied together so tightly with rope, streams of blood have dried down his forearms. He’s shirtless, and a number of lacerations, new and old, cover every inch of his chest. I can’t tell which ones are old and which ones are fresh because of the amount of dried blood that covers his torso. He isn’t wearing socks or shoes. The only article of clothing is a tattered pair of sweats that look three sizes too large from the way they’re hanging off his hips. Looking down at his feet, I notice all but two toenails have been removed, each toe is swollen and some leak puss due to obvious infection.

“For fuck's sake,” Dean whispers to himself. He takes two large strides towards the man, grabbing the sack that’s placed over his head and slowly pulls it free. Long blond hair covers the man’s face; however, the man remains still. Rushing over, I wipe the golden locks free from his face and fall to my knees.

“Co-Colson.”

Arno turns to face me, and before grabbing the door handle, he shoots me a wink that I hope nobody saw. The car door creaks as he opens it, the sound eerie as it echoes through the night air. I remain still, focusing on breathing one breath at a time. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You can do this, Sloan.

Arno leans into the car with me, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking the strap free as it retracts back into the side of the car. He then grabs each one of my legs, swinging them out of the car before grabbing my upper arm and pulling me to my feet. I stumble as Arno leads me forward, playing the part of the captive in hopes she’s buying my acting. I look up and down the line of men, landing on Cara, and think to myself. Where is Cormick?

“She’s quite lovely, aye boys,” Cara calls out loud enough for all her men to hear. No one answers her. Perfectly trained dogs all obeying her every word. They don’t look stupid enough to disagree with anything she says.

As she steps towards me, I notice a small shift in Arno. He positions himself slightly in front of me, blocking me from Cara, but not entirely.

“Not so fast, my dear. You haven’t agreed to my deal just yet. I give her to you as long as you promise to take care of the other two pains in my arses. Have we reached an agreement?” His tone is firm as he peers down at Cara’s small stature. She looks up to him, giving him the most devilish grin I’d ever seen.

“Me question is, why can’t ye take care of those bastards ye’self?” She cocks her head to the side, her eyes forming two slits as she questions. However, Arno doesn’t falter. He steps in closer to her so they’re mere millimeters from being chest to chest, each one holding their ground. The guards behind her shift uneasily until she raises a hand from over her shoulder, stopping them from intervening.

“Because, my dear, it’ll look bad on my part if I kill them, being their coworker and all.” He pauses a moment before continuing, licking his lips in the most seductive way. I don’t miss the slight bob in her throat as she swallows. He’s getting to her, that much is certain. “With this plan, it looks like they merely got into a bad business deal, you know, trying to save their pussy and letting their hearts destroy them. A word of advice”—he leans in close to her face, his lips right at her ear—“never let pussy and dick get in the way of business. It never ends well.”

Closing her eyes for a moment too long, she takes a step back, craning her neck to look up at Arno, who is smirking down at her in a victorious smile. Arno’s playing her at her own game; sex and lust are the most distracting conversation makers. Knowing we have to stall as long as possible, Arno turned on his charm, and fuck, if he hasn’t roped her right into his grasp.

Cara places her hand on his chest, pressing just slightly to put some distance between the two of them. She lets out a small huff, rolling her eyes at his charm and turning her back to him.

“Ye say ye work wit dem? What has ye so full of hatred towards dem? They are quite the lookers, if I say so me self.” She turns back to face Arno, her hands now planted on her hips. Her long red hair blowing with the slight breeze. I swallow hard, a nervous pit building in the back of my throat at the thought that she may be catching on to our plan. I look to my side at Arno, who doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by her question. He leans his back against the car, folding his arms across his chest.

“If you must know, I’m fed up with being second best. I’m sure you can relate to that feeling. Am I right?” The scowl that crossed Cara’s face shows Arno just hit a nerve. “Anyway, those fuckers have been at the top for too long, and I feel like the company needs a new golden boy, a fresh new face to be called the best, and I am happy to fill those shoes.”

I look from Arno to Cara. Their eyes remained locked on one another. Fear bubbles in my chest, and without a second thought, I turn to run. I’ve been too calm this whole time and feel like a fake escape may be the answer. Arno’s arm wraps around the back of my neck, yanking me back to his chest.

“Now, now, little one, let’s not do anything stupid shall we?” His breath is warm on the side of my face as he holds me tight, the warmth of his chest making me melt into his frame. A chuckle has me looking at Cara, who is now clapping her hands mockingly.

“Stupid girl, ye think runnin’ will get ye anywhere? Look ’round at where ye are. Ye stupid for thinkin’ you could escape.” She makes her way over to me. Arno’s grip on me tightens, ensuring I’m safe with him. However, without warning, Cara raises her hand to me, slapping the side of my face so hard my head snaps to the side. A low growl vibrates in Arno’s chest, anger heating his skin.

“Fine,” Cara finally declares. “Me men will take ’er from here, and I assure ye we’ll take care of them fuckers when dey arrive.” She reaches up and grabs my upper arm, yanking me free of Arno’s grasp. Realization hits me like a freight train.

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