Page 16 of Redemption
Relieved, I race to the front door, expecting to see Jax on the steps where we separated, but when I swing the door open, he’s not there, just the empty concrete stoop.
Shit.
Without another second to waste, I turn and head over to the stairs to check on the second-floor bedroom, where we left Hawk and Cole. Step by agonizing step, I climb, trying to maintain my stealthy operation, but I’m being sabotaged by the bicentennial carpentry. My teeth grind against one another as the floorboards creak loudly with every step I take, no matter where I try to position my feet on them. Dare, on the other hand, is apparently the cudgerie ghost of a ninja and doesn’t make a single sound as he traverses the wooden planks.
That’s just another bullet point that proves he’s dead!
Annoyingly, he makes it up the stairs first and turns, waiting for me with a victorious smile on his stupidly handsome face. After what seems like forever, I finally reach the top andgrin back, lifting a very specific finger in his direction while spitefully muttering, “I hate you,” as I saunter past him.
That just makes his smile grow wider, however. “Hate is just a placeholder for love, Sandy Pants. I’ll take it.”
Ass.
Ignoring him and his poor excuse for a retort once again, we run through the rooms as we did downstairs, observing nothing out of the ordinary until we come to our bedroom.
My double stands there, staring intensely at the floor as we enter. I can understand the bedsheets being disheveled and unmade—we did make quite a mess last night—but the overturned side table and the small pool of blood at my feet create a different scene.
Oh God...
This morning was definitely real then. No more hoping and praying it was all just a bad dream and that I’d run in here to see Jax, Hawk, and Cole in a dogpile on the bed. They’re not here. Those guys that were looking for me, they said they took the three of them.
My breaths quicken, my heart racing at the revelation that my guys are truly gone. That those other guys took them, and they could be dead for all I know. That I’m all alone again. My vision tunnels. A new attack brimming on the horizon. Beads of cold sweat form on my forehead.
They’re really gone.
Fuck. Breathe. I need to breathe. I need to....
Suddenly, as if knowing I needed something, my double comes to stand right in front of me, blocking my view of the room and everything in it. Her mouth opens and closesrhythmically, lips pursing slightly, while her shoulders rise and fall in smooth, slow increments.
Breathe.
I need to breathe.
A few moments go by as I continue the exercise done so many times with Cole, and then, as if nothing happened, she stops, lifting her lips in a silent smile before bounding away through the door.
Huh... well then... that’s... helpful.
Settled and now calm, I force myself to focus. Looking around the space, my gaze searches the entire area but doesn’t land on anything I’m looking for. As if on autopilot, I turn toward the door and head back down to the main level, my feet leading me to the front door, or rather, to the left of the front door.
“Son of a bitch!” The bugout bags. The weapons. Even those big ass duffle bags the guys carried around for miles. All gone. All taken by those vacation-ruining, cock-robbing, trespassing fuck twats! I pace the length of the room, my arms flying here and there in frustrated fury. “They took it all. Everything. Even—”
I swear a fiery growl burns from my lips as I fling the door open and bound down the steps, my snarling tummy about ready to seek vengeance in immediate bloody fashion if they so much as touched anything in the kitchen. I make it there in record fashion and bash the door in, the wood almost falling off its hinges in my haste. But it’s no use. My rage hits me as soon as I open the door.
“FUCKING ASS-MUNCHING THUNDER CUNTS!
They took the food too. The last damn straw in my field of fucks. They’ve done did it now. I was just gonna knock a few of them out. You know, just the ones I’d need to in order to get the guys back. But now? I’m pulling out all the stops. Gonna rain hell upon their whole damn village for taking my guys. Level it all. I no longer have any fucks to my name.
A shrill whistle catches my attention, pausing my meltdown. Out of the corner of my eye, Aly-number-two reveals herself, pointing to one of the corners slightly covered by a curtain. Hidden within the shadows is...
“Oh my God.”
It’s Daisy. Right there, in all her glory, leaning against the wall. I rush over to her, lifting my beloved baseball bat in my hands and letting out a rush of relieved air.
“Not everything...”
“Thank you,” I say to... myself, to which she just smiles and skips off to the other side of the room. Understanding dawns at her need to get out of my immediate vicinity as I lift the weapon and let my rage loose. “MOTHERFUCKING, BRAN-EATING, CULTIST ASSHOLES!” The various antiques, once held protectively behind pompous red velvet queue ropes, are the first to go.
“Beautiful destruction,”she croons, hopping up and down while clapping excitedly as I take a swing at a decorative vase. Daisy connects with the priceless ceramic, shattering the heirloom into a thousand pieces that rain down all around the room. I don’t stop to admire my work, however, instantly turning to find my next victim amidst the old pottery, the kitchen turning into my own personal rage room of chaos.
