Page 71 of The Gentleness of Rage

No doubt I was going to jail. Oh well, as long as I saved Slate. Prison couldn’t be as bad as living with Damien.

Drake

Slate was gone. Rage had found the cabin easily enough, but there was a puddle of blood soaked into the ground and signs of a brutal fight. There was a broken tree branch that had clearly been used to hit someone.

Drake stared at the bloodstain, willing something to turn up to point them in Slate’s direction. There was nothing.

Ramirez was calling forensics and had checked the lake for a body. Drake was relieved when Ramirez reported there wasn’t anything. Not even drips. Drake’s eyes followed the blood trail to where it abruptly ended. No doubt Damien had a car, which he’d placed Slate in, which meant his brother was still alive.

Slate had to be. Otherwise, why take him? Damien hadn’t been worried about bodies dropping before. No, Slate was alive, and Damien planned to use him for leverage.

Ace had already phoned in alerts to allies.

Drake frowned. Fury was breathing down their necks, and they didn’t need a missing brother, too.

Drake’s mobile beeped, and he yanked it out.

“Ace, Fish, Rock, Gunner,” he shouted, and they walked over. Drake showed them his phone, and they moved away. He opened the link that Slate’s phone had sent him and hissed.

Slate hung by his wrists from a meat hook. He was unconscious, and his head was tipped forward. He’d been stripped to his jeans, and his feet were bare. Drake saw a bullet hole in Slate’s shoulder, which had to be agonising, considering his arms were above his head. A second injury marred his side.

A piece of wood slammed into the wound, and Slate howled, coming alert and shook. It hit the same place again, and Damien stepped forward.

“You have four hours. Bring me Jaelynn, or I’ll take this piece of shit apart piece by piece for touching what is mine,” Damien growled out and cut the call.

Drake forwarded it to Hawthorne as Ace called him. Drake eyed everybody around him. “Hit your snitches. Find Slate.”

Ramirez looked up as Rage raced away. Then Drake sent him the video and then climbed on his own bike. His brother was out there somewhere.

Jaelynn

Whoever Artemis was, she spoke, and the doctors jumped. Inside of an hour, I’d had x-rays and an MRI and was now being cleaned up by a nurse.

“We meet again, Jaelynn,” a man said, and I recognised Doc Paul.

“Hi,” I replied weakly. All I wanted to know was where Slate was.

Artemis received a text, and she left the room. When she returned, she was grim-faced.

“How is she, Doc?” Artemis.

“One lucky fuckin’ lady. Bruises and some cuts. Klutz was correct, no broken bones or major trauma. Not even a concussion. But you are going to be black and blue, and I’d hate to be you in the morning, but you’re okay. You’ll suffer a lot of stiffness and soreness,” Doc Paul explained.

“Need to take this,” Artemis stated.

“Jaelynn, I’ll prescribe some painkillers,” Doc Paul added and left.

Wiped out, I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.

“… If they want her for Slate, do the swap. Drake, I’ll put a tracker on Jaelynn, and we’ll find her,” Artemis grumbled.

I opened my eyes. What?

“Fuck that, Drake. We need to get Slate. We can track Jaelynn and bring this little asshole down. If Slate’s got two wounds and they’re torturing him, he won’t last long,” Artemis retorted.

Slate was being tortured. By the sounds of it, Damien had demanded me in exchange for him. That wasn’t a problem; why wouldn’t Drake do that?

“Slate won’t be able to beat your ass if he’s dead!” Artemis exploded and then lowered her voice. “Make the swap, I’ll be on Jaelynn. Drake, I swear I won’t lose her.”

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