Page 26

TWENTY-SIX

BOZO

I stand against the wall, my arms crossed and legs planted as I watch Pyro, Jer, and Denis Gallagher question the men we took from the house last night.

The interrogation room is dimly lit, the air thick with tension. This is one of Jer’s many locations around the city, a run-down hotel that’s seen better days. The three prisoners are bound to chairs, their faces bruised and bloodied from the fight. I can see the fear in their eyes as they face down the imposing figures of Pyro, Jer, and Denis.

"Let's try this again," Denis growls, leaning in close to one of the men. "Who else is involved in The Revenant's operation?"

The man spits blood onto the floor. "I told you, I don't know anything. I'm just a hired gun."

Denis straightens up, his face a mask of cold fury. He nods to Jer, who steps forward, cracking his knuckles.

I wince as Jer's fist connects with the man's jaw. The crack echoes through the room, followed by a pained groan.

"Wrong answer," Pyro says, his voice dangerously soft. "We know you're more than just muscle. Dragomir kept you close for a reason."

The man's eyes dart between the three of them, panic setting in. "Please," he whimpers. "I can't tell you anything. They'll kill me."

"And what do you think we'll do if you don't talk?" Denis snarls.

I shift against the wall, itching to join in and beat the information out of them. We need this information. We need to make sure The Revenant is truly finished.

Suddenly, one of the other prisoners speaks up. "Wait," he says, his voice shaky. "I... I know something."

All eyes turn to him. He's younger than the others, barely more than a kid really. Fear is written all over his face.

"Talk," Pyro commands.

The young man swallows hard. "Dragomir... he wasn't the top. There's someone else, someone higher up."

My blood runs cold. I knew it. I fucking knew it was too easy. I fucking knew there was more to this than what there appeared to be. Dragomir went too easily. Too fucking easy.

"Who?" Denis demands.

"I don't know his name," the kid says quickly. "But I've heard them talk about him. They call him the Puppetmaster."

Jerry and Denis exchange a look. I can see the wheels turning in their heads. That’s not a name I’ve heard before, but I’m wondering if Jer and Denis have?

"Where can we find this Puppetmaster?" Jer asks.

The young man shakes his head. "I don't know. But..." He hesitates, glancing at his friends. "They’re supposed to be after someone, or something that they need to make the Revenant bigger, better than before."

"Where is he?" Denis presses.

"Here in Ireland," the kid whispers. "That's all I know, I swear."

The room falls silent as we all process this information. It's not over. Not by a long shot.

Pyro turns to me, his expression grim. "Looks like we're no closer to finding out the truth.”

Frustration doesn’t even fucking cover it right now. Christ, what the fuck is going on? I quickly send a text to Gráinne, making sure she’s okay.

“Do you know who the Puppetmaster is?” I ask Jer and Denis.

I watch as Denis nods grimly. “I’ve heard about him. He’s a low-key player here in Ireland, but he’s got a lot of connections in Europe. It’s where he makes his money.”

Jer nods, his jaw tight. “Damien Hammond is the Puppetmaster.”

I frown. Am I supposed to know who that is?

“Bozo,” Jer says, his voice tight. “The guy who asked Grá on a date? He works in the hospital with her. He’s been a friend since she started college. Mike Hammond is the son of Damien Hammond.”

I clench my jaw, staring at him dumbfounded. “You let some fucker close to her?” I snarl. “How the fuck was he able to get that fucking close to her?”

Jer's eyes flash with anger at my accusation. "We didn't know he was part of this shit. Had I known, he would never have been anywhere near her."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage building inside me. "So what now? We go after this Puppetmaster?"

Denis shakes his head. "Not yet. We need more information. If we move too quickly, we could spook him and lose our chance."

"And in the meantime?" I ask, my voice tight with frustration.

"We keep Gráinne safe," Pyro says firmly. "And we dig deeper. Find out everything we can about Damien Hammond and his operations."

I nod, my mind racing. "What about Mike? He's still close to Gráinne. We need to get him away from her." She hates being confined to the clubhouse, and I know she’s dying to get back to work, but he’s also there and that’s not something I’m comfortable with.

Jer runs a hand through his hair. "We can't just snatch him up. That'll raise too many alarms. We need to be smart about this."

"I don't give a fuck about being smart," I growl. "I care about keeping Gráinne safe."

"And we will," Denis assures me. "But we need to play this carefully. If we tip our hand too soon, we could lose everything."

I clench my fists, hating the logic in his words. Every instinct in me is screaming to hunt down Mike Hammond and beat the truth out of him. But I know they're right. We need to be strategic.

“Fine,” I snarl as I reach for my cell and see two messages from Gráinne.

Grá: All good. Heading back soon.

But not even minutes later, I see she messaged again.

Grá : Not sure what’s going on but something’s not right.

I lift my head and see Jer watching me. “What?” he asks, his voice tight.

“Call Brendon and Ruairí,” I snarl as I hit dial on Grá’s number. “Find out what the fuck is going on.”

Her cell rings and rings, but there’s no answer. Over and over again I call her, but to no avail. She’s not fucking answering.

“Where the fuck is she?” I hear Jer roar into the phone.

Fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt before grips my heart as I hear Jer's words. My mind races with worst-case scenarios. Has Mike Hammond gotten to her? This has to be the Puppetmaster's doing!

"Fuck!" I roar, slamming my fist into the wall. The pain barely registers through my panic.

Pyro is already moving, barking orders into his phone. "I want every available man out looking for her. Now!"

Denis grabs my arm, his grip like iron. "We'll find her," he says, his voice low and intense. "We'll tear this city apart if we have to."

Gráinne has worked for Denis since Jerry took her under his wing. She’s family to everyone. It’s hard not to love Grá. She’s the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet and she cares about everyone.

I nod, trying to focus. "We need to check Mike’s home," I say, my voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "He could have taken her there."

Jer's already heading for the door. "I'm on it. I’ll have every man I have working this."

Exiting the run-down hotel, I can’t think straight. My mind is a mess with all the things that asshole could be doing to Grá. Never have I felt as fucking helpless as I do right now.

The cool air does nothing to calm the fire burning in my veins. If anything's happened to Gráinne, there won't be a force on this earth that can stop me from raining hell down on those responsible.

As I climb onto my bike, my phone buzzes. For a split second, hope flares in my chest. But it's not Gráinne. It's an unknown number.

The message is simple, chilling, and fucking taunting.

Unknown: The game has changed. Your move.

Attached is a photo that makes my blood run cold. It's Gráinne, unconscious and bound, in what looks like the trunk of a car.

I show the phone to Pyro, who curses violently. "They're playing with us," he growls.

"Then let's show them how we play," I snarl, gunning the engine.

As we tear through the streets of Dublin, I make a silent vow. I will find Gráinne. I will bring her home safe. And then, I will unleash a reckoning upon the Puppetmaster and his entire operation that will shake the very foundations of their world.

God help anyone who stands in our way.

The roar of our bikes echoes through the streets as we race toward Mike Hammond's place. My mind is a whirlwind of rage and fear, the image of Gráinne bound and helpless seared into my brain. I can barely focus on the road, my hands gripping the handlebars so tightly my knuckles are white.

Jer's voice crackles through the com in my helmet. "Just got word from one of my guys. Mike's car isn’t at the hospital. He's supposed to be working a double shift, but he left early. No one has seen him in hours."

"Fuck!" I snarl, swerving around a slow-moving car. "So, where the hell is she?"

"We'll figure it out," Pyro's calm voice comes through. "Stay focused. We can't help her if we crash."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. He's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. Every second feels like an eternity, knowing Gráinne is out there, scared and alone.

We screech to a halt outside Mike's apartment building. Before the bikes have even stopped, I'm off and running toward the entrance. Jer and Pyro are right behind me.

The lock on the front door is no match for my foot. I kick with every ounce of power I have and the fucking thing splinters. We burst in, guns drawn, ready for anything.

But the apartment is empty. Silent. Undisturbed.

"Search everything," Pyro orders, already moving toward the bedroom. "There has to be something here. Some clue."

We tear the place apart. Drawers are emptied, furniture overturned, every possible hiding spot examined. But there's nothing. No sign of Gráinne, no evidence of any connection to the Puppetmaster.

"Fuck!" I roar, slamming my fist into the wall. The plaster cracks under the impact, but I barely feel it. I feel utterly fucking useless. I have no idea where she is or what that fucking cunt is doing to her.

Jer puts a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find her," he says, his voice low and intense. "We won't stop until we do."

Suddenly, Pyro calls out from the living room. "Guys, you need to see this."

We rush over. Pyro is holding a small notebook he found hidden behind a loose baseboard. As he flips through it, my stomach turns.

It's filled with notes about Gráinne. Her schedule, her habits, even details about her relationship with me. This wasn't just surveillance, this was obsession. Not to mention pictures, hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of her. Some up close and others taken at a distance. She has no idea the camera is even there.

"That sick fuck," Jer growls, his face pale with anger.

Before we can discuss it further, my phone buzzes again. Another message from the unknown number.

Unknown: Tick tock. The clock is running out for your precious Gráinne.

Attached is another photo. This time, it's Gráinne awake, her eyes wide with fear. She's in some kind of dark, damp room. A basement, maybe. There's a newspaper in the frame, today's date clearly visible. Proof of life.

My stomach churns. "We need to find her. Now." I can’t fucking lose her. No way. I just can’t. She’s my fucking everything.

Jer's already on his phone, barking orders. "I want every abandoned building, every warehouse, every fucking hole in the ground searched. Now!"

Pyro's studying the photo intently. "Wait," he says suddenly. "Look at the wall behind her."

I peer closer, trying to see past the terror on Gráinne's face. And then I see it. Faded, barely visible, but unmistakable. A logo.

"That's the old textile factory," Denis says, his voice tight. "It's been abandoned for years."

"Let's go," I growl, already heading for the door.

As we race toward the old factory, I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. We're close. So fucking close. Hang on, Grá. We're coming.

We kill the engines a block away, not wanting to alert anyone inside to our presence.

"Remember," Jer says as we approach, "we need to be smart about this. We don't know how many of them are in there."

I nod, but my mind is singularly focused. Get to Gráinne. Everything else is secondary.

We move silently, weapons drawn. The lock on the side door is no match for Pyro's skills. Within seconds, we're inside.

The factory is massive, filled with shadows and echoes. Every sound seems amplified; the creak of the floor, our muted breathing. We move carefully, checking each room, each corner.

And then we hear it. A muffled cry. My heart leaps into my throat. Gráinne. Fuck, she’s alive.

We follow the sound, moving faster now. As we round a corner, we see a figure standing guard outside a door. Before he can even react, Jer has him in a chokehold. The man struggles briefly before going limp.

I'm at the door in an instant, kicking it open with all my strength. The sight that greets me makes my blood boil.

Gráinne is there, tied to a chair. Her face is tear-stained, but her eyes light up when she sees us. Mike Hammond stands behind her, a gun pressed to her head.

"One more step," he snarls, "and I'll blow her fucking brains out."

Time seems to stand still. I can see the fear in Gráinne's eyes, but also a flicker of hope. She trusts me. Trusts us to get her out of this.

"Let her go, Mike," I say, my voice low and steady, trying to buy time as I assess the situation. Mike's hand is shaking slightly, his eyes wild with desperation. He knows he's cornered. There’s no way out for him. Not anymore. He crossed the line when he took her. I’m going to enjoy killing him.

"You don't want to do this," I say, taking a small step forward. "Think about what you're doing."

Mike's grip on the gun tightens. "Stay back!" he shouts. "I'll do it, I swear!"

From the corner of my eye, I see Jer and Pyro spreading out, flanking Mike. Good. We might have a shot at this.

"Your father put you up to this, didn't he?" I ask, trying to keep him talking. "The Puppetmaster. This was all his idea."

Mike's eyes widen in surprise. "How do you?—"

That moment of distraction is all we need. In a blur of motion, Pyro lunges forward, tackling Mike from the side. The gun goes off, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. My heart stops for a moment, but the bullet embeds itself in the wall, missing Gráinne by inches.

I'm on Mike in an instant, my fist connecting with his face again and again. All the fear, all the rage of the past few hours pours out of me. It takes both Jer and Pyro to pull me off him.

"Enough," Jer says firmly. "We need him alive."

I nod, still shaking with adrenaline. I turn to Gráinne, who's watching the scene with wide eyes. In a heartbeat, I'm at her side, untying her bonds.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Did they hurt you?"

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm okay," she whispers. "I knew you'd come."

I pull her into my arms, holding her tight. For a moment, the world fades away. She's safe. She's here. Nothing else matters.

But reality crashes back in as Pyro speaks up. "We need to move," he says urgently. "The Puppetmaster will know something's wrong by now."

I nod, helping Gráinne to her feet. She's shaky but determined. "What about Mike?" she asks, glancing at the unconscious man on the floor.

"We're taking him with us," Jer says grimly. "He's got a lot of questions to answer."

As we make our way out of the factory, I keep Gráinne close, my arm around her protectively. This isn't over, not by a long shot. The Puppetmaster is still out there, and now he knows we're onto him.