Chapter 22

22

Beck

I clutched Clarke in my arms, holding her tightly as we crossed over the Mexico-US border back into the United States.

We were heading back to the Fathers of Mayhem MC with an entourage of Alejandro Garcia's men with us. Three men were in the vehicle with us—the driver, the passenger, and the guy sitting on the driver's side on the bench seat with me and Clarke. All three of them were armed, and the one in the passenger seat and the one sitting next to us were holding assault rifles between their parted thighs.

Three vehicles full of Alejandro's men followed behind us, and two were riding in front of us.

And Ash… Ash wasn't with us.

Once Clarke and I were safe, they went back for Tank, but he was gone. I'd done my best to eavesdrop on their conversation when the group that went back for him had come back empty-handed. All I'd been able to make out was blood, missing, and no trail. When Clarke had demanded I tell her what I'd heard, she'd… well, she'd fucking lost it. Screaming. Crying. Panicking. One of the men had sedated her because she refused to get in the car without Tank. But there was nothing we could do, and she needed to get the fuck out of the area. I wouldn't let them get their hands on her again.

I didn't want to leave Tank behind, but I also couldn't let Clarke potentially get captured again. So, I'd swallowed down all my fear, all my tears, and I'd climbed into the SUV with her slumped body in my arms.

I had to have faith they would find Tank. I knew his family wouldn't stop until he was back home.

I just hoped he was still in one piece. Because if they'd taken him… chances were, he was being tortured.

And that realization made my stomach violently turn.

I was exhausted down to my bones by the time we rode through the clubhouse gates, but every time I shut my eyes, all I could picture was Tank telling me he loved me before he walked out that fucking bedroom door.

Before he walked into a cruel fate, choosing to sacrifice himself to save us. What if it was the last time he ever uttered those words to me? What if, when he did make it back home, he wasn't alive?

Clarke lifted her head from my shoulder, staring out the window next to me with blank, withdrawn eyes. She'd woken up about two hours ago but had remained mute despite my desperate attempts to find out if she was okay. She wasn't interested in talking. She had shut down, her mind on survival mode.

Out of everything she'd gone through, the thing to break her was knowing Tank was gone. And I was sure it was gutting her as much as it was gutting me that we were the reasons he was missing. Because he'd chosen to protect us. Because he chose to sacrifice himself so we would always be safe.

The door beside me opened, and the two men who'd come down into the basement with Tank after I'd been captured appeared, blocking anyone's view of me and Clarke. Both of them held assault rifles, and bulletproof vests were strapped to their chests. I swallowed thickly.

Just how bad had everything gotten while we'd been gone?

"When you step out of the vehicle," the man wearing the president patch, who I assumed was River, said, "I need you both to huddle close but move fast to get into the clubhouse. Clear?"

I nodded. "Clear," I rasped. "Clarke isn't really… here at the moment," I warned them.

The Vice President shook his head. "Don't worry about that. Just get her to cooperate. Reina and Adelaide can take care of her when we get you two inside."

I nodded and gripped Clarke tightly before pulling her out of the vehicle with me. Her legs were stiff as I maneuvered her to the clubhouse, the two men following closely behind us, their boots crunching over the gravel. As soon as we were inside the clubhouse, Alejandro ran his eyes over us and then slipped outside, more than likely to debrief his men and send them back home.

Two women rushed forward, who I assumed were Reina and Adelaide. Clarke frowned at them, pressing herself back against the front of my body. "Sweetheart," the thinner woman breathed, "I know. It's okay. He's going to be okay."

Clarke suddenly burst into tears, a sob ripping from her throat. My own throat tightened with sadness and pain. I hated seeing her like this. Hated that Ash was gone. Hated that we had no idea where he was or if he was okay. Was he even still alive? If he was, was he okay, or were they torturing him?

A hand rested on my shoulder as Adelaide and Reina gently took Clarke from my arms and led her toward the stairs. I looked over at the VP. "Come to the chapel, kid."

I slowly nodded, and he dropped his hand. I stared after Clarke until she disappeared from my view, though her sobs were still audible, twisting my heart tighter and tighter in my chest with every single one. Sighing, I turned and followed the men into the chapel. I swallowed thickly at the empty seat.

Tank's seat.

"You can sit there, Beck," River said. "I'm River." I nodded, already knowing that. He gestured to the VP sitting to the right of him. "This is Sam." His gaze moved to the man next to Sam. "Holden is my Sergeant at Arms. Gin," Gin lifted his finger from the table, "is the Treasurer. Drake," my gaze slid to the man sitting next to Gin, closer to River, "is the Secretary. Link," Link dipped his chin in my direction, "is a patched member without an officer ranking, but he's just as important. We're all Tank's family, and I swear to you, Beck, I'm going to do everything in my fucking power, even if I have to sell my soul, to bring him back home to you and Clarke."

I exhaled a shaky breath and clenched my hands into fists on top of my thighs. "You have no idea where he is?" I croaked.

"We have a faint idea," Alejandro said, coming into the room. His suit was impeccable, not a single wrinkle lining it. His hair was slicked back from his face, his olive skin void of any imperfections. "The moment Emmanuel called to inform me Tank was missing, we began hunting for him. They came in via the beach, so we're assuming that's the way they left, too. Immediately, we began trying to track them. No luck yet, but we're assuming they're bringing him either to the newest place they've set up shop about ten miles east of here, or they're taking him to DC to their private home."

"Who are they ?" I asked.

"The Bradley family," River informed me.

My stomach cramped. Tank had mentioned the Bradley family was the reason Clarke was kidnapped. Why she was raped and beaten over and over and over again. And now Tank was with them.

"Do you think he'll be alive?" I choked out.

Gin, who was sitting next to me, reached up to gently squeeze my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "He'll be alive," Sam assured me. "Tank is too… valuable to them."

I frowned, my brows furrowing. "What?" That didn't make sense. How was he valuable? People like him were considered obstacles to people like the Bradleys. It only made sense for them to eliminate him quickly.

River sighed. "I may be betraying Tank's trust by telling everyone this," River began, "but Tank informed me of something while you three were in Mexico." A bad feeling crept into my stomach. My palms began to sweat; I wiped them on my jeans. "The Bradley family has operated before, but the FBI took them out—or at least, they tried to. They dismantled them for a few years, at the very least." My knee began to bounce as my impatience grew. I wanted to know what was going on.

"Tank was with the Bradley family for fifteen years," River said. Silence fell upon the room. "He was a victim. From birth until the ring was dismantled when he was fifteen, Tank was tortured much the same way Clarke was."

Fifteen… Fifteen fucking years .

I lurched from my chair and ran for the nearest trashcan before emptying my stomach. Tears slid down my cheeks. What I'd witnessed Clarke endure for mere months had been horrific and traumatizing enough, and River was now telling me that Ash had been a victim of that kind of torture for fifteen fucking years ?

How was he even a functioning adult? How had he survived that shit? Looking at him now, no one would ever know he'd endured so much hell. He was a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, he looked threatening, but he was soft as a marshmallow on the inside. So tender and loving. Not the least bit hardened unless he needed to be.

I stood back up and swiped at my cheeks, though my tears kept falling. Gin stood from his chair as well and drew me into a hug.

"We're going to find him," Gin promised, his words filled with conviction. With a promise. "And we're going to make those mother fuckers pay for taking him from you."

I barely managed a nod before falling apart in this kind man's arms—Tank's brother. His family. Family I was getting to lean on while Tank suffered.

It wasn't fucking fair.