Page 27 of Wrath

“Fuck! What is it with this guy?”

“He’s off his fucking rocker.”

“No doubt about that... What about you? Are you good?”

“Been better, but I’m still breathing. So, there’s that.” I let out a breath, then said, “Gotta figure out how the hell he was able to find me... If I didn’t know better, I’d say he had a tracker on me.”

“You think?”

“It’s the only way he could’ve found me at that hole-in-the-wall gas station.”

“You might have a point.”

I pulled over on the shoulder of the road as I told him, “Hold on. I’m gonna check.”

I placed my phone on the dash, then got out and went to the back of the SUV. I opened the trunk and pulled the crate closer. I removed the lid, then started sifting through the various weapons, searching for any signs of a tracking device. It was hard to see in the dark, but after digging down to the bottom of the crate, I finally felt a small, rectangular box that wasn’t much bigger than a money clip.

I put the top back on the crate, then closed the trunk and headed back to the front of the SUV. Once I was back inside, I grabbed my phone and told Cotton, “I found it.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna toss it.”

“No... Hold on a minute.” I could hear him talking, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. After a few moments, he turned his attention back to me and said, “If he’s set on tracking you, then let him track you.”

Knowing he had a plan, I asked, “Okay... Where exactly is he tracking me to?”

“Drive out to the old warehouse. When you get there, pull in and park, and the boys and I will be there waiting for you.”

“Headed that way.”

If we were going to have a standoff, I would need more than just the shotgun and a few shells, so I started searching the SUV for any spare weapons. I was pleased to find that there was a handgun and an extra clip in the glovebox, and another under the driver’s seat. Feeling a little better equipped to handle what lay ahead, I got back in the driver’s seat and sped towards Port Angeles.

It was only twenty or so miles away, but the deep curves and random stops made speeding more difficult. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to slow down. Every corner turned, every missed stop sign, could be my gateway to salvation or the path to my demise. So, I did the only thing I could. I kept my foot on the accelerator and raced through the shadows.

After what seemed like hours, I finally pulled up to the warehouse.

It had been ages since I’d been out there. The club once used it to store equipment for the construction company and spare parts for the bikes, but that was years ago. Now, the old, dilapidated building stood as a relic of forgotten times.

I did as Cotton ordered and pulled the SUV through the back entrance, then grabbed the shotgun and remaining shells from the passenger seat. Once I got out of the truck, I walked over and pulled the door closed behind me. It was strange to be there alone. The air hung heavy with the scent of mildew and neglect, and the only source of light came from the moon that shone through the busted windows. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing against the nearby shore.

I found a secluded spot concealed behind a stack of worn-out wooden crates and decided to hide out there. I checked the shotgun, ensuring it was fully loaded, then settled in to wait. I had no idea where Cotton and the brothers were. For all I knew, they were already there waiting with me, but it was too risky to call or text.

Not that it mattered.

I was going to end him with or without my brothers’ help, and if my gut was right, it was going to happen sooner than later.

He was coming.

I could feel it in my bones.

The minutes seemed to tick by like hours, but I remained vigilant, my senses attuned to the slightest sound or movement. Every creak, every rustle, set my nerves on edge, amplifying the tension that coiled within me. Shadows seemed to morph from one shape to the next, playing tricks on my mind.

I could feel the demons within stirring.

I didn’t try and fight them.

Instead, I invited them to wreak havoc. It was something Stitch was teaching me to do, and for the first time, I finally understood what I needed to do. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, and it wasn’t long before the memories came rushing in. I didn’t fight the anger and the hurt that came with them. Instead, I let them envelop me, and it wasn’t long before my anxiety subsided and was replaced with a sense of eagerness.

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