Page 73 of Rage

The stench hits me first.Rot.Piss.Fear.My stomach churns as I descend the ladder, boots hitting damp concrete.Darkness presses in, thick and oppressive.Caiden’s flashlight beam cuts through, revealing a scene from hell.

Bodies.Everywhere.Women chained to walls, huddled on filthy mattresses.Some twitch at the sudden light.Others lie unnaturally still.

“Please,” a voice croaks.Barely human.“Help us.”

My vision turns red.Rage pulses through me, hot and vicious.I want to tear this place apart with my bare hands.

“Mason.”Liam’s voice, tight with fury.“We need to get them out.Now.”

I nod, forcing myself to focus.“We need to get them to safety.”

He’s already on it, voice low and urgent as he talks to our people.“Call ambulances,” I tell them, and one of the women start screaming.

“Ambulances are what brought us here.We were all in small car accidents and then dropped off here instead.”

Holy shit.I look at the others in horror at what the fuck I just heard.“Clubhouse.”

I approach the nearest woman, moving slow.She flinches, eyes wild with terror.“It’s okay,” I murmur, keeping my tone soft.“We’re here to help.”

Her gaze darts to my cut, to the patches that mark me as a Grim Sinner.Recognition flickers.Hope, maybe.

“He… he said no one would come,” she whispers, her voice raw from screaming or disuse.Maybe both.

“We’re here now,” I promise, reaching for the chains.The metal is cold, and slick with God knows what.It takes all my willpower not to vomit.“You’re safe.”

More brothers filter down, faces grim.We work in silence, freeing the women one by one.Some sob.Others are too weak to stand.

As we carry them up, I catch snippets of horror.Torture.Rape.Experiments.My blood boils hotter with each revelation.

Peterson.That fucking monster.When I find him…

A whimper from the far corner catches my attention.I turn, flashlight beam revealing a huddled form.My heart stops.

No.It can’t be.

But as I draw closer, dread settles like lead in my gut.I know that face.

Sarah.The nurse from Meadow’s hospital.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe.“Sarah?Can you hear me?”

Her eyes flutter open, unfocused.“Dr.… Beckham?”she mumbles.

I crouch beside her, hands hovering uncertainly.Every inch of visible skin is mottled with bruises.“No, it’s Mason.Meadow’s… friend.We’re getting you out of here.”

We get them all out of here, discovering bodies of women where they are too decayed to even decipher.

We then turn the place back into the way we found it as best we can.

I’m going to fucking be here even if it takes a week, because this fucker doesn’t know what rage is until I get my hands on him.

Then, finally, a creak of hinges from above.

Footsteps.

The bastard’s back.

fifteen

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