Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Wrecker snorted. “He doesn’t get bored. He gets bloodthirsty.”
I gave him a look. “Keep talkin’. You’ll see which one I am tonight.”
The tension crackled as we mounted up, engines snarling to life like beasts stretching after a long cage. The ride out was a blur of cold wind, the growl of our hogs loud in the dark night.
It didn’t take long to reach our destination. Just a few backroads and a grim silence stretched between the thunder of engines.
We parked the bikes four blocks out—close enough to move fast but far enough to avoid attention. The old canning plant behind us was nothing but broken windows and rusted metal, forgotten by everyone but stray cats and weeds. Fine by me. I was in no mood for witnesses.
Midnight met us at the corner of the property. “Techs just left for a dinner break. Got about twenty minutes till they’re back. I’ll be in the van across the street monitoring the perimeter.”
He handed Hawk an earpiece since he was the only one on comms tonight. It left the rest of us with no distractions so we wouldn’t let down our guard and get caught unaware.
We slipped to the building like shadows. The security here was a step up from the storage facility, but Deviant was already in the system. As I approached the back door, there was a beep, then the red flashing light on the lock turned green. Still, I waited.
“All clear,” Hawk murmured a few seconds later. “Cameras inside are looped. Only Deviant can see the feeds.”
The door creaked when it opened. Even knowing the employees were gone, I hesitated, making sure we weren’t surprised by a fourth tech we’d somehow missed.
No one appeared, and I didn’t hear another sound, so I wedged the door to stay open and stepped inside.
The smell hit first. Stale air that hadn’t moved in hours. Bleach. The sharp scent of chemicals. But none of that completely masked the smell of human sickness.
Hawk and I took point while Whiskey and Maverick swept left. Fox and Hunter circled right, with Wrecker covering our backs.
It didn’t take long to find them.
We cleared nearly every room when we heard a soft moan. Then another.
The sound led us down a dim hall until we reached a locked door. Again, I waited until the red light turned green, then pushed inward. The moment the door swung open, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
“Son of a bitch!”
I stalked in, chest rising with every breath like I couldn’t get enough air. My fists clenched at my sides.
This room was colder than the rest. Glancing around, I saw no uniforms, no proper equipment—just makeshift crap that screamed rushed setup and no accountability.
Tamara’s words echoed in my head. Those names that had vanished, the files that didn’t match up. This was where they went.
The patients—victims, I silently amended—lay on narrow folding beds that lined against the walls. Four women and two men who were barely covered by a thin sheet. IVs dangled from rolling poles. Machines beeped in soft, erratic rhythms.
“Status?” Fox asked from behind me.
“Alive,” I growled. “Barely. Drugged. But breathing.”
“They restrained?” Wrecker asked, stepping into the room beside me.
“Some of them.” I nodded toward a young man on the corner bed nearest us. Early twenties, wrists strapped, and bruises across his jaw. “This one fought back.”
Wrecker’s lip curled. “Bet they didn’t like that.”
Hawk’s eyes glittered with restrained fury as he took in the scene. “They aren’t trying to kill them. They want to fucking use them. To test, to control. It’s a game to these sick bastards.”
“Get Blade on the line,” Fox snapped as his eyes swept the room.
“Already here,” Blade’s voice called out as he entered through the rear with two brothers pushing stretchers from a club-owned ambulance. “Mav told me about the run. Figured we’d need a medevac.”
Two younger paramedics followed them. Trusted kids who knew how to keep their mouths shut.
“Start loading them. Quietly,” Fox ordered.
We moved fast—removing IVs, helping the groggy patients to sit up, and dressing them in clean sweatpants and shirts from the emergency duffels. Then Blade and his team got to work checking vitals and transferring bodies to stretchers. They’d only brought in four, so I carried the other two out to the rig myself, one cradled in each arm like broken things I was sworn to protect. Once they were carefully secured, the two paramedics climbed into the back with the patients. Blade shut the double doors, and the lock clicked from the inside.
“You good?” Fox asked him.
Blade gave a single nod as he stalked to the front and yanked open the driver’s side door. “I’ll get them to the hospital. Already called ahead. They’ve cleared an intake room.”
The Iron Rogues owned just about every inch of Old Bridge. Not just land and businesses but also the police, politicians, and we’d practically built the hospital. Blade had a clinic on the compound, but he also worked shifts in the ER. Partly because he wanted to, but it also made it easier for him to be listed as the physician on record whenever the club used the facility for injuries that needed more care but kept quiet.