Page 77 of Rage

Meadow

The clubhouse doors slam open, and my heart leaps into my throat as Mason strides in.His eyes scan the room, wild and intense, before locking on to mine.Relief floods his features, softening the hard lines of his face.

In an instant, he’s across the room, pulling me into his arms.I sink into his embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and smoke.His heart thunders against my cheek, matching my own frantic rhythm.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion.“Thank fuck you’re okay.”

I pull back slightly, searching his face.Blood spatters his shirt, his knuckles raw and split.A bruise blooms along his jaw.But his eyes… there’s a darkness there I’ve never seen before.

“Mason,” I breathe, cupping his face.“What happened?Did you find him?”

A grim smile tugs at his lips.“Oh, we found him all right.”His gaze flickers to the women huddled around the room, something fierce and protective flashing in his eyes.“Bastard won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

My breath catches.“Is he…?”

Mason shakes his head.“Not yet.But soon.”He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “He’s in the basement.Thought you might want a piece of him before we finish this.”

A shiver runs down my spine at Mason’s words.Not with fear or dread, but with excitement.

I’ve been waiting for this.

I meet Mason’s gaze, seeing my own fury reflected in his dark orbs.“Take me to him,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

As we move toward the basement door, I feel eyes on us.Turning, I see Sarah watching us, her face a mask of barely contained rage.Emily stands beside her, trembling but determined.

“We’re coming too,” Sarah says, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Emily stands beside her.Still trembling, but chin raised in defiance.One by one, the other women rise.Some lean on each other, but their eyes… God, their eyes.They burn.

Mason hesitates, then looks to me.I nod.“They deserve this.”I grip his hand hard.“We all do.”

The basement air is thick and oppressive as we descend the stairs.The stench of fear and blood grows stronger with each step.My stomach churns, but I force the nausea down.I can’t show weakness.Not now.

Peterson’s whimpers reach us before we see him.He’s strapped to a chair.Poetic justice.His face is a mess of bruises and blood, one eye swollen shut.

As we file into the room, his good eye widens in terror.“No,” he chokes out.“Please, no.”

I step forward, my voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me.“You don’t get to beg,” I tell him.“Not after what you’ve done.”

Sarah moves to stand beside me, her hand finding mine.Emily joins us, then another woman, and another.Soon, we form a circle around Peterson, a living wall of fury.

“You thought you could break us,” Sarah says, her voice trembling with emotion.“You thought you owned us.”

“But we’re still here,” Emily adds, stronger now.“We survived.”

Peterson’s eye darts between us, panic clear on his battered face.“I’m sorry,” he babbles.“I’ll do anything.Please, have mercy!”

A laugh bubbles up from my throat, harsh and bitter.“Mercy?Like the mercy you showed these women?”

I turn to Mason, who watches from the shadows.His eyes meet mine, a silent question.

Lane and Kyle both step forward, looking to the women.“You can’t tell anyone what happens here today,” Lane tells them, and they nod.

“We understand,” Sarah replies.

My dad, on the other hand, hands them a baseball bat each.“Have some fun, ladies, but don’t kill him,” he says before moving to stand by me.

Sarah’s hands close around the baseball bat, knuckles white against the worn wood.Her eyes, once soft and kind, now burn with fury as she stares down at Peterson.

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