Page 48 of Massacre
I turned back to the window, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
“You will not,” Reaper said, his voice like steel. “This isn’t about her, it’s about your damn pride. You think you can protect her better than us?”
I could hear the frustration and concern in his voice, but I was too far gone to listen.
“I’m not asking for your permission,” I spat, my breath clouding the glass. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Reggie standing there, his eyes pleading with me to reconsider.
“Please, Dwayne,” he said softly. “Don’t do this. We can find another way. We always do.”
“I won’t risk her life. Not again.” I looked at my brother, my eyes hard. “I’m doing this.”
“I’m sorry, brother,” Reaper solemnly said right before King barked, “LOCK HIM DOWN!”
I wish I could say I was surprised, but I wasn’t. I think on some level I knew Reaper would order my lockdown. I also knew disobeying him was suicide by slow bleed. A fool’s errand, even for a man as reckless as me. But it wasn’t a choice, not really. Every fiber of my being screamed for another path, any path other than facing Reaper’s wrath. It wasn’t like it was my first choice. Hell, any choice was better than going against Reaper. But when it came to Amber? I didn’t really have a choice. For her, I’d face Reaper’s hellfire, the cold steel of his blades, the inevitable crushing weight of his fury.
It wasn’t bravery, not exactly.
It was something... worse.
Something primal.
Something desperate.
The seconds ticked by like hours as I sat in that cell, my mind racing with thoughts of the danger Amber was in and the inevitable confrontation with Reaper. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but the thought of Amber in Yuri’s hands was enough to steel my resolve. I knew what the son of a bitch was capable of, the sick, twisted things he’d do to her. It made myblood run cold, and my stomach turn. I couldn’t let that happen to her again. I’d rather face a thousand Reapers head-on than let that madman lay a finger on her. Even if the thought of going up against Reaper sent a shiver down my spine.
As I sat there, my mind began to wander, recalling the first time I laid eyes on Amber. Even in the darkness, I could see her beauty shining through. She’d suffered so much in her life; yet, she wore her scars proudly, almost as if they were badges, trophies of survival. Her strength and resilience had drawn me to her, and I had silently vowed to protect her from the shadows that lurked. And now, here I was, facing my darkest hour, and yet, my thoughts were not of my own fate, but of hers. I would do whatever it took to keep her safe, to shield her from the horrors that threatened to consume her. Reaper might be a force to be reckoned with, but I would face him head-on, fearless in my pursuit to protect what I held dear.
?The weight of my decision rested heavily on my shoulders, but I refused to let it break me. I knew that my actions would have consequences, but I was prepared to face them. For Amber, I would brave the unknown, confront the fears that lurked in the shadows, and emerge victorious. It was a promise I made to myself, a vow to protect the one person who had managed to capture my heart in a world filled with nothing but darkness and despair.
Chapter Eighteen
Amber
Scratching at the door woke me up. Again.
Huffing, I threw back the covers, stomped to the door, and flung it open, perfectly content to rip someone’s head off but I found no one there. Sticking my head out into the hallway, I looked right, then left, only to find the place quiet as a church mouse. Frowning, I shook my head and went to close the door when I noticed something taped to it.
Reaching for the sheet of paper, I looked down the hallway once more to make sure this wasn’t some kind of joke as my fingers opened the letter. Seeing that I was truly alone, I read.
Take the key Kytten gave you and release Massacre.
He is waiting for you.
That was it.
Nothing more.
A chill ran up my spine as I closed my door, the cryptic note clutched tight in my hand. My room felt colder somehow, the shadows stretching longer than before, as if the walls themselves were listening in. I turned the letter over, searching for a hint or mark—something to anchor me to a reason, but it was spotless except for the hurried scrawl that seemed almost impatient.
Massacre. The name alone was enough to send a crackle of apprehension down my arms. Reaper’s request, King’s silence, now a midnight message slipped onto my door—all of it swirled together, thick with secrets and warnings I didn’t understand. I glanced at my nightstand, where the tarnished key Kytten hadgiven me the other day sat atop an old paperback, its teeth glinting in the low lamplight.
Was I really going to do this?
Fuck it.
I tugged a sweatshirt over my pajamas and slipped the key into my pocket. The clubhouse was quiet—too quiet—each step down the hallway felt like a warning against the creaking floor. My heart thudded as I crept downstairs and into the kitchen where the entrance to the basement was. Opening the door, I cringed as it creaked on its hinges, like nails on a chalkboard. My every instinct urged caution, even as my fingers curled around the cool brass knob.
If this was a trap, I was already halfway in.
