Page 108 of Kade

“You guys ready?” he asked.

Brett and I both nodded. Ski-masks on.

Let’s do this.

40

MASON

We found two vehicles parked in the back, but no one was outside. Heading for the back door, Channing plastered himself against the wall. I was behind him, followed by Brett. As we waited, Channing turned and gave us a bunch of hand signals.

Awesome.

Neither of us spoke that language.

He waited for us to either respond, but we stayed put. I raised my eyebrows. Brett leaned out behind me and shook his head slowly, holding up a hand. We were clueless, not his normal bounty hunter crew. He groaned softly, giving us an exasperated look.

I frowned and edged around him, because if he was going to act like that, I had no problem going in and kicking ass without him. Brett followed, but Channing grabbed my arm just before I touched the door. He pulled me back, shaking his head.

We could hear voices from inside, and Channing didn’t like this door for some reason. He edged backward. Once we were far enough away, I asked, “Why don’t we all try a different door?”

He shook his head. “No. We might need backup.”

I fixed him with a look. “I’m willing to risk it.”

Channing was still frowning. “I don’t know. This whole place feels wrong. I’ve heard chatter that there’s a new fighting ring, besides the one the Red Demons run. If that’s this place, and if Moreaux is behind it, he’s got backing from someone else.”

“We’re not your usual crew,” I told Channing. “You can’t treat us like Moose or Congo.”

Brett smacked his fist into his palm.

Channing and I looked at him.

“What?” He lowered his hands.

“Okay. Let’s spread out,” Channing said. “Find an entry point and move in. Keep hidden. Mason, this is your show. We’ll wait for you to move first.”

I had no problem with that. “Got it.”

Channing grunted. “Move out.”

If Logan were here, he would’ve done his own version of hand signals right now just to play around.He’s coming, I reminded myself. Channing went back to the original door while Brett and I separated. He went to the east side of the building. I headed for the front.

We ended up meeting in the middle.

He scoffed at me, whispering, “Good plan.”

“Shut up.” I waited for him to get to my side and reached forward, testing the doorknob. It opened with a click. I held the door and slowly opened it, inch by inch, until I could get a better look inside.

Phillip Moreaux was yelling.

I edged the door open enough that I could slip inside, into what seemed like a coat room of some sort—a small room with another doorway without a door.

“You’re nothing but a failure,” Moreaux shouted.

There were sounds of running and panting, some cursing from the next room. “You think you tried your best tonight?You did nothing. You are nothing,” he continued, his voice was hoarse. “You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop. You hear me, you piece of shit?”

Brett stopped. His eyes went dead, and every part of him was rigid. I moved ahead to look around the corner. It was another fighting ring. A cage had been set up in the middle with metal walls that went high in the air. Old sweat, dirt, and the smell of blood lingered in the air. Two boys were in the cage. Shirtless. Their hands and feet taped. They only wore shorts. Their chests heaved and sweat and blood trickled down their faces. Axel and Steele.

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