Page 36 of Chaos
"Fair?" Fiend's laugh is harsh, brittle. "You have no idea what he’d do to me. What the club does to traitors. There's a reason no one crosses the Renegade Kings."
The truck slows as we approach what looks like an overlook. A cliff edge that juts out over the lake. There should be a guardrail or something here. Why isn’t there a guardrail for safety?
"I think they're onto me." Fiend's voice drops to almost a whisper. "There's a nurse at the hospital. She heard Biggy name me as a rat before he died. Her supervisor is dating a cartel soldier and passed the information along."
"So you're running," I state the obvious, desperately trying to keep him talking while I search for a way out.
"Not yet." He parks the truck near the cliff edge, the headlights illuminating the empty stretch of land.
“I don’t understand. Where do I come in? What does kidnapping me accomplish?"
"You're not being kidnapped." His voice is terrifyingly gentle but scarily eerie. "I brought you here so I can dump your body somewhere it won't be found for a while.”
A chill runs through me. “But why? Whyme? Is it because I can identify Tank and Biggy's killers?"
He shakes his head. "Those guys were just cartel soldiers, easily dispensable. No, this is about Chaos."
"Chaos?"
"Losing you will destroy him." Fiend's eyes hold something like pity mixed with conviction and cruel desperation. "Knock him off his game. Throw the whole club off balance while they're hunting for you.”
I shake my head, a desperate laugh escaping my lips. "You've got it all wrong. Chaos and I—we've only known each other a week. He'll be upset, sure, but?—"
"You really don't see it, do you?" Fiend studies my face. "That man is head over heels, completely gone for you. I've known him fifteen years, and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."
My heart constricts painfully. "You're wrong."
"I'm not." His hand moves to his waistband, pulling out a gun. "And that's why this has to happen."
The sight of the weapon freezes my blood. "Fiend, no. Please don't do this."
He turns to face me, his expression bizarrely placid. "I'm sorry. I truly am. But I need to make Chaos and the club sloppy while I try to clean up my mess. Hell, I won’t be surprised if he declares war on Los Cuervos. I can picture him going off half-cocked, guns blazing.”
The words hang in the air between us as I struggle to breathe, to think.
"Get out." He nods toward my door.
"Fiend—"
He points the gun directly at my face. "Out. "
With trembling hands, I open the door and step out into the crisp night air. Wind whips across the overlook, carrying the scent of the lake below. Fiend circles the truck, gun trained on me the entire time.
"Walk to the edge." He gestures toward the cliff’s edge with the barrel of his gun.
My legs feel like lead as I comply, each step bringing me closer to my doom. Beyond the edge is a steep drop. Jagged rocks jut from the water far below, moonlight glinting off their sharp edges. The drop must be at least a hundred feet.
Tears blur my vision as I stare into the abyss. In my mind, I see Chaos—his intense eyes, the way his face softens when he looks at me, his hands gentle despite his strength. I think of my grandmother. Of the dreams I had, of finishing school, of building a life.
"Turn around." Fiend's command cuts through my thoughts.
I obey, facing him. The gun is leveled at me now.
A muscle twitches in his jaw. "If it helps, I’m gonna shoot you first. You'll be dead before you hit the ground. If not, those rocks down there will finish you off.”
A strange calm settles over me. If these are my final moments, I refuse to spend them begging or crying. I straighten my spine, look him directly in the eye.
Something flickers across Fiend's face—doubt, maybe even fear. But it's gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by grim determination as he thumbs off the safety.
