Chapter 12

I wake up with a pounding headache, the dull throb in my skull intensifying with each passing second. It takes forever to peel my heavy eyes open, but the dim, sterile light filtering through the narrow window only makes the pain worse. I try to sit up, but a jolt of agony shoots through my side, and I collapse back onto the hard, cold floor.

Panic sets in as I struggle to remember how I got here. The last thing I recall is being with Ella and the guys, walking through the parking lot of The Den for her party. I remember saying something to make her laugh, but I don't know what it was. All I see is her bright, dimpled smile reflected in my mind before darkness.

No, my mind snaps. There's more.

I feel it there, lingering, scraping against my skull, but I ignore it. I ignore it because as my eyes slide around the small cell I'm locked inside, all I can think about is her.

Where is she?

Where?

Where?

"Ella!" I mean to shout it, but instead, I croak her name, my voice hoarse and weak. My brows crash together, and I force myself to swallow down rocks. I lick my lips and call her again, this time a bit louder.

There's no response, just the eerie silence of the cell. I push myself to sit up, gritting my teeth against the pain. My fingers fumble with the torn, damp fabric of my white shirt, and I wince when I touch something sticky and cool beneath it.

Blood.

My heart races as I realize I'm injured, but I can't remember how it happened.

Yes, you can.

"No," I grit out, shoving everything down again—the pain, the fear, the worry. I know it'll come. I can feel it. Can taste the way the memories will wreck me. I don't want them. Not till I have her back.

Struggling to my feet, I scan the small, barren cell, my eyes desperately searching for any sign of my baby girl. There's nothing, just gray walls and a cold, unforgiving floor. I stumble and catch myself on black bars, using them to pull myself upright. It's dim outside of my cell, but I know what a jail looks like—a prison.

Cell after cell.

Cold, bleak, dim.

Empty.

I hold my breath, listening for anything, any sound of life, proof that I'm not alone.

Nothing but silence.

Panic pulses through me, and I begin to call out for her again, my voice tinged with desperation.

"Baby girl? Where the fuck are you?" My voice trembles, but it's louder this time, bouncing off the empty cinder block cells around me. It echoes down the vast hall, the tiny, barred-up windows, but there's still no response.

Swallowing thickly, I let a little piece of my memories trickle through.

My brothers, my family.

Hunter.

My gut twists.

The Den.

The party.

Eric fucking Keaton.

"No!" I shake it away again, shoving it back down. My hands beat against the cold steel. "Gage! Nyx! Stone!" Everything inside me aches, and the longer I try to suppress it, the harder it becomes. "Hunter! Isabella!"

Nothing but the echo of my cracking voice shouted back at me.

Where the hell am I, and how the fuck did I get here?

I drag my heavy body towards the cell door, my hands gripping the bars. It's locked, and I feel a wave of helplessness wash over me, but I shove that shit down, too.

I can't stay here. I have to find her, have to get to them. My head throbs, and my side burns, but I push through it, using the bars to steady myself as I examine the cell. There's nothing that could help me escape, no hidden tools or weak points in the walls. My eyes scan the ceiling as my fingers drag over the rough blocks. No cameras, either.

Out of nowhere, the room spins, and I grunt, sliding down the wall. I suck in a sharp breath at the new scrapes that form down my back, but I let the pain ground me, let it keep me present so I don't freak the fuck out.

"One thing at a time, Maddox."

I can still hear Gage coaching me through my school books when I was a kid. He'd constantly tell me to take the words one at a time so they wouldn't get so jumbled. As we grew up, it became problems instead of words.

"One problem at a time, Maddox."

Don't focus on the entire picture at once, just one problem at a time.

And when shit got really bad, it was seconds he was urging me to consume slowly.

"One second at a time. Not too much. Just one second."

I tug off my tux jacket, letting the material sift through my fingers. I swallow harshly, my mouth dry.

"One thing at a time, Madd," I breathe as my eyes flutter closed. I squeeze the jacket against the wound on my chest and exhale roughly. "One thing…"

The gun.

My insides throb and twist as my heart begins to hammer.

One thing.

The sound of the bullet ricocheting through the air between us.

I breathe through the panic, willing those moments to come back to me slowly. They filter through, one agonizing second at a time.

I see the gun in Eric's hand, hear the bullet spear through the air, see the direction it's aiming, but I can't think, can't breathe, can't fucking move.

And then I do, but it's too late.

One thing. One breath. One moment.

Hunter dives in front of our girl, shoving her behind him. I watch with horror as his body bows backward from the force of the blow.

My fingernails dig into my palms, leaving bloody indents behind, but I don't care. Nothing matters as those seconds replay again and again. He got to her first. He jumped in front of a bullet for her. He didn't even fucking hesitate.

Ella screams, but my eyes are locked on his face. His gaze bores into mine, but I can tell he's not seeing me, not as pain spears through his chest. Blood spills almost instantly, creating a red pool that stains his too-white shirt. He was shot.

I lose my breath.

One second. Two. Three.

It's like something passes between us. Something unspoken but powerful. Something beyond words. I swallow dryly and mouth the words I don't deserve to speak out loud, "Thank you."

Hunter nods his head once, his eyes glossy, and then he's spinning, wrapping her body up with his and pulling her away. Away from me. Away from my brothers.

No. Away from the enemy.

One thing.

One thing.

One thing.

"Fuck," I breathe, my eyes burning as I try to choke back the tears. She almost died, and I was powerless to fucking stop it. But he didn't even hesitate. He saved her. He saved her, and then he….

I don't remember when it happened, but suddenly, I'm killing Eric Keaton.

My fist collides with his face again and again. My teeth scrape together, my jaw pulses, my knuckles crack, but I don't stop.

I can't.

Eric grunts when my brother lands a kick in the fuckers gut, and I let out a sound of satisfaction. "I hope you fucking rot, you sick asshole!" Gage snarls, and the sound is dark, so viscous, I peel my eyes from Eric's.

His face is unlike anything I've ever seen before. Worse than when I was a kid, and my father was being the twisted bastard he is. Worse than when we found Ella in her house, tied up and injured. Worse than when she was missing.

He's just…empty.

I swallow and look back at the man sprawled out across the ground, his body broken and bloody. It's not enough. The pain he caused, the horror and devastation. The fucking scars, physical and mental…

It will never be enough.

There is no pain, no damage, we could inflict that'll ever make it right for her, for them. Nothing. But taking his life slowly, brutally, will have to do.

Feeling him bleed out under my fingers will have to do.

I suck in a sharp gasp, the organ in my chest squeezing at the reminder of what happened. Of who happened.

"One thing at a time," I breathe, sinking deeper. My hands tremble as I lift them in front of me, eyeing the thick, dried blood stains. His and mine. My jaw ticks as I take in how perfectly the stains blend together.

When we're created, we're all the same—just a mix of blood, muscles, and bones. We're blank canvases waiting for life to paint us. And when we die, we're all nothing but broken promises, half-written stories, and unfinished breaths.

I know it's what's in between that counts. I know it's what you make of yourself that matters. But what we, what I've become, isn't all that different from Eric, is it? From my father?

I ruin families and take lives. The stains on my hands are nothing compared to the stains on my conscience.

One thing, Maddox. Just one thing. Nothing more, nothing less.

I choke on my next breath as Gage's voice circles through my mind so loudly it feels like he's here with me. I quickly wipe my hands down my slacks and inhale deeply, letting the next part of my memories through the thick wall I keep the darkness trapped behind.

"What the fuck?" Gage grunts, but I barely hear him over the thump, thump, thump of my heart filling my ears. "Oh, fuck. Where is she?" Again, I try to tune him out while continuing my assault on the man beneath me. I don't think he's breathing anymore, but I don't give a fuck.

I know where she is.

She's holding her best friend while he dies.

Fuck, maybe he's already dead.

The thought of that sends a sharp stabbing pain through me that penetrates my nothingness, and I shove it down.

"He needs to pay," is all I can manage to grit out between clenched teeth.

I pull my fist back, and it collides with Eric's shattered cheekbone. I feel his blood coat my jaw, but I don't even blink, refusing to look away. His ugly eyes are locked onto mine, lifeless and unseeing, but it still doesn't matter.

She matters, though.

Hunter matters.

Mattered.

And this fuck never cared.

"Maddox!" Gage shouts, and I vaguely hear the distinct sound of bullets firing. "Madd! Enough!"

"It's not enough," I whisper, black and red dots dancing in my vision until they're all I see. "Not enough."

I think I hear more guns and maybe a scream, but it's not her, I know that, so I ignore it. She's too busy grieving.

Not enough.

Not enough.

Never—

"I need you, Madd! We need you here!"

I shake my head, pulling my fist back once more. Gage grips my hand, squeezing me so hard, I freeze. My head whips toward him, a vicious snarl trapped in my throat.

"Wh—" My words die when I see my brother's wide, terrified gaze locked on mine. The first thing I notice is that he's no longer empty. I swallow, tasting copper, and the second thing I notice is that I'm not either.

I'm mad.

So fucking mad, I'm shaking.

So mad I never even realized I was straddling Eric and that his face no longer exists.

But Gage…

"We have to go, man!" He's begging, and that helps to wash away some of the darkness, too. "We have to find her. Nyx is in trouble, and Ella's missing."

He runs a hand through his hair, turning it red, and my fist falls.

"What happened?" I shove to my feet, stumbling over Eric. I kick him again for good measure and grip Gage's face. More blood. So much blood, it looks stark against his tan skin. "Are you bleeding?"

Gage freezes, and his eyes narrow. "Look around, bro," he breathes, his voice too quiet, nearly disappearing in the…

In the…

"One thing at a time…"

I look around, and my knees lock up at the sight, but Gage is there, like he knew I'd fall. How the fuck did I miss this? Bodies are sprinkled around the parking lot. There are guns being raised, bodies jolting, but the right sound never comes.

Silencers. Black tac-gear. Bodies. So many bodies.

What happened?

My mouth opens to ask the question even as my eyes frantically scan, looking, searching for the people I love most, but before I can get a word out, a sharp pain blooms across my chest.

I suck in a breath and stumble backward. Gage's eyes go wide, and seconds later, his gun is raised, and he's shoving me behind him.

My gaze drifts down my body as the burn turns to fire, and I try to shake it off, but I can't. My brows crash together as I hear Gage yelling, yelling, yelling…

My fingers trail over the blood rapidly spilling from just above my ribs, staining my white shirt red just like Hunter's.

A chuckle leaves me as the world spins. "I got shot." I laugh again because my voice sounds funny.

I've been shot before, once. Stabbed a bunch of times. I was even hit by a car when I was thirteen. Nothing made me feel out of it this fast. I blink rapidly, and then, I feel Gage's hands on me, patting, searching.

"Madd," he chokes out, the sound so worried, I force myself to look up even as I stumble backward. He grabs me and helps me to my knees. "What the fuck is this? Why are you—"

He breaks off as his body jolts into mine.

His eyes go wide, and he jolts again.

"Gage…" My voice is cracked, warbled. It doesn't sound right. "Gage?"

His eyes flutter as he reaches his hand up toward my shoulder, leaving my wound to bleed freely. I grunt when his fingers trail softly over my exposed skin before tugging harshly. I gasp at the unexpected prick of pain as something tumbles onto my lap.

"Tranqs," he murmurs as he yanks one from his thigh. My eyes grow hazy and the world spins just as his words settle in, in, in…

"It was a trap." He licks his lips, his eyes heavy as he sways into me. "They took her. They took Isabella."

And then all I see is darkness….