Page 75 of Sophia, Property of Tracker

Finally arriving at the last door, I turn the doorknob, and it opens. It’s dark, and stairs lead down to another room. Reaching in the back of my jeans, I grab my small flashlight and switch it on, pointing it toward the stairs.

Very slowly, I take one step at a time, the sound of the stairs creaking beneath my feet. Holding my breath, I finally reach the bottom of the stairs and flash my light around the room. It’s not until I turn the corner that I find Tate and Luke sitting in their chairs, both their heads dropped to their chests.

Focusing the light on them, I then lift it and trace the room. It’s quiet, and I’m led to believe they are alone.

Trying to calm myself and not rush into the situation, I take small steps and stop when I reach Tate.

“Tate, you hear me?” I ask, lifting his chin. His eyes are swollen closed, and dried blood covers his face. But there’s hope when I listen to his chest and hear his heart beating.

Quickly, I step around him, withdraw my knife from my belt, and cut the rope from his hands. He falls to the floor, and I swiftly cut the rope at his feet. He stirs and moans in pain.

Bending down, I whisper in his ear, “You’re okay, it’s me, brother. You’re safe. I just make out a smile on his face, then quickly move to Luke.

Luke, however, must have woken from the noise and opens his eyes, which are wide with surprise. Quickly, I place my fingers to my lips to tell him to be quiet. He nods, and I cut open the ropes at his hands and feet.

In the meantime, as I’m cutting away at Luke’s ropes, Tate struggles to sit but finally does while rubbing at his wrists.

“Where is everyone?” Tate asks, his voice sounding croaky.

“Shhh… don’t worry, they’re all upstairs. We’re fine, we got you. I crouch down and hold Tate’s face in my hands. “You’re safe, and I’m getting you home.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a door that I hadn’t seen as it blended into the wall is pushed open, and Lawrence stands there with two men by his side with shotguns. They point their guns, and before I can grab mine, one shoots at Tate. Without hesitating, I cover him with my body, and then suddenly, pain hits me hard.

I’ve been shot.

Another round in the back.

Then another and another.

As I fall to the ground, Tate grabs my gun and empties it into Lawrence.

Blood spills from my mouth.

This is it.

This is how it ends for me.

Oh God, Sophia, she’s not going to take my death well.

Images of her and me on the sand fly through my vision, and I shut them remembering every single inch of her face. Loud gunshots echo in the room, and I can just make out my brothers, their voices loud over the noise.

I want to tell them that I will never forget them.

I want to tell them that being part of the club was the happiest time of my life.

“Tracker, wake up! Don’t you dare go. You stay with me, you hear?”

Tate, Tate’s here.

God, I love him.

This is going to be hard on him too, but he’s strong.

He’s a president, and life will go on for him.

My eyes open, and a loud explosion vibrates around the room, followed by fire. Voices shout and scream, and I want to jump up and protect my club, but I can’t. I can’t feel my legs—it’s as if my body has already left this earth. I don’t have much time, and I have more important things to say to my brother before I take my last breath. Barely able to move, I grasp at Tate’s cut, trying to bring him closer to me so I can whisper in his ear. His eyes are wide, and the fire is now blazing behind him, but he doesn’t look away, his eyes focus on mine. As if he understands, Tate nods, leans forward, his ear close to my mouth.

“Take… care… of… Sophia. She’s going to need you, brother. I love you.” And just like that, I smile because the last image I have is of Sophia smiling at me before my eyes close.

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