Page 81 of Freeing Denver

He did. For three more days.

The next time, I’d tried to escape, and I spent eight days in there, one meal every two days. I’d come out broken. Grateful for the shower. The clean clothes.

So yes, I’ll beg. I’ll beg not to go back.

Eli walks toward me, his dress shoes echoing on the wooden floor. He observes me before crouching and touching my cheek. His expression softens, his brows pulling together gently as he takes in my features.

“Ten days.”

I scream. I scream and sob as Kitrick lifts me off my feet and carries me away, the hallways echoing with pleas, begs, and threats, until I’m thrown into the room, and the door is locked, and I’m alone.

Chapter 24

Colt

“You told someone, David.”

“I didn’t!” he screams, sweat pouring down his face. His pants are damp with piss and he’s on his knees, bloodied and bruised, his hands secured behind his back. He breathes fast, his eyes glassy. “I swear, Colt—” He cuts himself off as I hold out my hand to Taf. My friend approaches and hands me the cannister.

David’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

My footsteps echo through the warehouse. It’s an enormous empty space, the cement floor stained with the blood of too many men, most from the last few weeks.

Weeks without her.

There’s never a moment when I become accustomed to the agony of Denver not being by my side. No moments of peace, or seconds where I forget. It’s a constant wound in my heart, the twist of a blade in my vital organ. I’ve searched, we’ve all searched, weeks of endless hunting, and I go home at night with blood on my hands and that endless, bitter ache.

There’s no relief without her here.

But I can share that pain with those who created it.

David managed to escape my wrath by hiding in his mom’s basement for four weeks. I found him three hours ago, and he’s bled for two and a half.

“You had an anonymous wire transfer for twenty-five grand the day after I rented your hotel. You’re telling me you know nothing? I’ve worked my way through every staff member who was supposed to work that night,” I say, unscrewing the cap from the cannister. “They said they didn’t know anything. If I believed them, I let them leave. If I thought they were lying? If they had received money like you had?” I step closer. “Can you guess what I did?”

His fear does nothing to me. It doesn’t make me hope he’ll confess. It doesn’t reignite the conscience that I’d allowed to grow in the short time I had Denver. There’s no rage, no acceptance, no peace.

There’s nothing in me.

“Who did you tell I’d be at the hotel?”

“No one!” he shouts, breaking into sobs. “I swear to God!”

God. There’s no god in this room. No salvation. No one who could save him, even if he was worth saving.

I empty the contents of the cannister over his head. He splutters, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Someone has my wife, David. Someone took my fucking wife. And you’re going to burn alive if you don’t tell me the truth.”

His sobs become wails. “I fucking swear!”

“Colt,” Taf says quietly. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

I keep my focus on David as he sobs, his chin dropped to his chest. The patter of rain on the warehouse roof drowns out some of his cries, but not all. I stand before a man who might be innocent. He might know nothing.

I don’t care either way.

I take out the lighter, snapping my thumb down. The flame bursts to life.