Page 45

ZOEY

B enji carries me effortlessly. He refuses to let go, not that I’d complain. For the first time, there are no steel bars between us, and we can’t get enough of each other’s touch.

The tunnel stretches ahead, damp and endless. The air is thick with the scent of the earth and mildew, but at least we’ve left behind the stench of burning rotter flesh and death.

Cole leads the way. Damon follows a step behind, keeping his head on a swivel and his brown eyes sharp, scanning for more threats. The only source of light is the dying torch Damon salvaged from the rotter Benji set on fire to save me.

Lola pads along beside us in the back, her ears flicking while she sniffs the air, alert. Her paws make no sound, but her posture is tense after the fight we had, and her body remains low to the ground, trying to sense something that might be just out of reach.

I rest my head against Benji’s chest, letting his warmth radiate through me. I’ll never take for granted being able to touch these guys.

A small rock dislodges from the ceiling. It tumbles to the ground and rolls to a stop against Benji’s foot. I lift my head and frown. Something isn’t right.

Then the ground shudders beneath us. A sharp crack echoes overhead. Dust and pebbles rain down around us. Benji ducks his head to shield me as a deep rumbling vibrates through the tunnel.

“The tunnel’s collapsing,” Cole calls back to us.

“Move, now,” Damon orders.

Benji’s grip tightens around me, and then he’s running.

“I can run,” I say. Benji’s hold remains firm while he ignores me. “I’m not fucking letting go of you, golden girl.” I bury my face against his shoulder. My heart hammers against my ribs as the rumbling intensifies. Lola whines and bolts ahead, staying close to Cole’s heels.

Behind us, chunks of rock the size of my head crash to the ground, missing us by inches.

We’re not going to make it.

“Yes, we are, blondie,” Damon says, and I realize I must have said it out loud.

Ahead, a pale glow comes into view, and hope flares within me. Until the torchlight catches metal bars.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Cole skids to a stop and slams his fist against the rusted gate. It’s locked.

Damon sets the torch on the ground to lean against the wall, and grabs the gate. He rattles them so hard they screech. “Find something to pick the lock.”

Lola’s barks turn frantic, and she runs around in circles before pawing at the gate.

“Not another set of bars,” I groan.

Cole kicks the gate, but it doesn’t budge. Damon reaches through the bars for the littered objects on the other side. He grabs a thin scrap of metal, then works at the lock, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Another round of small stones falls from the ceiling.

Benji curls around me, ducking his head, shielding me when more large chunks overhead break loose.

Lola growls low and backs up toward me. She barks at the offensive, falling debris.

When I peek out from beneath Benji, I see Cole digging around for anything useful.

He grabs pebbles and scrap metal from the ground to pound against the metal gate.

Then, when that doesn’t work, he tries to use them as tools to pry it open.

The tunnel ceiling starts to give behind us.

The ground shakes with a violence that freezes my veins.

Louder cracks. More rocks. Larger chunks.

They smash against the floor, with some missing us by a hair.

Some land on Benji, bruising his body while he blocks the falling debris from hitting me.

His arms curl around my body with a protectiveness I’ve never known.

We’re seconds away from being buried alive.

I lift my head and blink through the dust and chaos, and I see it. A shadow shifts beyond the bars. A shuffling sound that somehow cuts through the deafening chaos of the tunnel caving in. My breath catches. Someone’s out there.

Before I can say anything, the lock clicks open, the gate swings wide, and we run. Lola dashes ahead, barking her wild little head off, leading the way.

The second we burst through, the tunnel collapses behind us in a violent explosion of dust and rubble that blasts outward. It forces us off our feet. Benji’s grip on me slips, and I fly out of his arms. I hit the ground hard, and my body rolls into something warm.

I blink through the haze of dust with a groan. My palms scrape against cold concrete, and small pebbles dig into my skin. “Sorry,” I breathe out, then push myself up.

“Who are you talking to?” Benji’s voice comes from somewhere behind me.

I frown and shift onto my knees. When I reach out, my hand presses into something warm and sticky, and I freeze. When I pull my hand back, it’s covered in blood.

A cold chill snakes down my spine. My gaze snaps forward. A body slumps against a pillar, with sightless eyes staring ahead, frozen in death. Blood coats his chest, and his fingers still clutch a gun.

I recognize the face. “Avery’s man. He was supposed to open the gate for us.”

Damon yanks me back against his chest. His grip tightens around my arms when stares down at the dead man in front of us. “Guess we were right,” he mutters, the truth sending dread coursing through me. “Avery’s got a traitor.”

My pulse roars in my ears, and I scan the low-lit abandoned parking garage. “I saw something. Right before we got through the gate. Someone was?—”

A dark chuckle slithers through the air. My body goes rigid. Damon’s grip tightens, his fingertips digging into my skin. Lola lets out a deep warning growl. Her short fur bristles, and her stance is low and tense.

“Well, well, well.” A single figure emerges from the shadows with a limp. A grin stretches across Eugene’s face. That, coupled with the streaks of blood across his face and arms, makes him look more unhinged than I could have ever imagined. “Took you long enough.”

More figures step forward from the shadows. Their weapons glint in the dim light that streams in through the cracks in the cement ceiling. Guns click into place.

Lola’s bark is fierce, and she lunges forward before circling back to stand directly in front of me. Her tail is low, her body rigid, and her teeth bared.

“What’s going on?” is the only thing I can think to say. The question is pointless.

“It’s a fucking ambush,” Damon growls.

The parking garage is silent, but the tension thick in the air could almost pass for a living thing. It presses against my ribs, thick and suffocating. The realization of what’s happening grips me by the throat and fills me with terror.

Dim light filters through fractured concrete, casting long, jagged shadows across rusted-out cars. Vines creep down from the ceiling, stretching like twisting fingers toward the abandoned vehicles below. The scent of mildew, oil, and rot clings to the damp air.

Eugene stands between us and freedom, blocking our only exit.

Half his shirt is stained with red from where I stabbed him.

Blood splatters his jaw, and something in his dark eyes looks completely unhinged.

More feral than I ever thought possible.

The few dregs still standing with him shift on uneasy feet, and exchange glances.

This might be the crack in his control we need.

A slow clap echoes from the entrance. This time, my body doesn’t react.

I feel nothing. A numbness settles inside me, dull and distant.

I’ve run out of fear and am ready to face whatever bullshit this life throws at me next.

Then Avery steps forward and hope sparks through the haze, shoving away the numbness.

The entire energy of the garage shifts the moment he enters.

He walks in cold and composed, like he already owns the place.

Eugene, by contrast, still unravels at the seams.

“I never wanted to be the leader. I didn’t care enough to, and it was far more fun to watch you huff and puff and scurry around as my form of entertainment. Then you went too far. Did you know people refer to us as dregs? How funny of a word.”

“What about it?” is Eugene’s only response.

Avery continues. “It’s not a compliment.”

“What are you even doing here? Like you said, you never wanted this.”

“I didn’t want this. Until you hurt something that I found I care about. I know, surprise to me, too. Turns out I still have a heart, albeit a small one.”

Damon’s grip on me tightens.

Eugene throws his head back in a skin-prickling laugh. His hands tug at his hair, pulling out loose strands. “Why does everyone keep trying to steal what’s mine? I’m going to kill you all, right here, right now.”

“Give it up, Eugene. You’ve lost.” Avery steps further into the light, his expression unreadable.

A muscle ticks in Eugene’s jaw. “You don’t fucking know that.” His voice wavers, and he gestures to all the dregs who standing with him. “I built this. It’s all mine. You think I’ll just hand it over because you ask? You didn’t even ask nicely.”

“All you have to do is stand down, and we won’t have a way,” Avery says.

For a few long moments, neither of them speaks, and nobody moves.

Avery smirks. “Look around you, Eugene.”

He does, and that’s when the shift happens. His own men refuse to meet his gaze. They don’t even look at him at all. Instead, they watch the dirty pavement, their own boots, anywhere but him.

The first raindrops begin to fall. Fat droplets leak through the fractured ceiling and tap against rusted hoods and shattered windshields. The scent of damp earth thickens the air.

Eugene’s fingers twitch when he realizes he’s losing them. Desperation tightens his expression. His control slips, and I see the moment it breaks. He grabs a crowbar with a furious snarl and strikes one of his own men.

The man stumbles and curses in pain.

“You’re supposed to stand by me, and you hesitate?” Eugene swings again, but the man catches the crowbar mid-air and rips it from his grip. Then he steps away from him without a word .

More follow. They cross the divide to join Avery, and that unravels the last thread of Eugene’s empire.

Avery takes another step forward. His voice is like smoke and steel when he speaks. “You feel it, don’t you? That slip beneath your feet? You’re falling.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Avery ignores him. “Fear doesn’t work anymore. Your men don’t respect you. When fear fades, the only thing left—” his gaze flicks to the remaining dregs still back away toward Avery “—is choice.”

Eugene’s body shakes with rage. Damon’s grip on my turns almost painful. Then Eugene snaps. “No.”

Greg steps out of the shadows and stands in front of Eugene. His face morphs into something inhuman. He snarls at Avery. “You left. You have no right to take it back. Now show some damn respect?—”

A knife protruding through the chest cuts him off. He falls to the ground, dead. I spin around and see Cole shrug. “Found it on the ground. Figured it needed a home. He wouldn’t shut up.”

Eugene’s snarl is animalistic and his voice raw, cracking around the edges. “You think you can take everything from me?” His shoulders shake and his voice rises. “I’m in charge here! I run this place! She belongs to me!”

When Eugene’s eyes snap to me, Damon lets go of me and steps between us. Before he can block me from view, Eugene rips the gun from the nearest dreg’s holster and aims it at Damon. “Stop right there.”

Damon lifts his chin and stands tall. My heart hammers against my chest, and fear clouds my vision. Before anyone else can react, Eugene lunges. His arm snaps around my waist, and he yanks me back against him. Cold steel presses against my shoulder.

The entire garage freezes.

Thunder rumbles overhead .

A single tear slips down my cheek. His voice comes out as a rasp against my ear, his breath hot and rancid. “If I can’t have her, no one can.”

Benji moves first, in a violent, uncontrolled lunge.

Eugene cocks the gun. “Ah, ah.” He presses the barrel against my temple. “One more step and I’ll?—”

A gunshot rings out, and I stop breathing.

The world jerks.

Blood sprays across my cheek, warming my skin.

Eugene stumbles back and gasps for air. I rip free from his grip right as his knees give out. His fingers lock onto my arm when he falls, and he drags me down with him. We hit the wet concrete together.

I push myself up, but I can’t hear anything through the ringing in my ears. It’s so loud. Not even my wildly thumping pulse can drown it out.

When I look up, I see Eugene’s face twisted in shock. His hands claw at the bullet wound in his chest.

Voices around me are muffled, before the ringing in my ears dies down.

Rain drips down from the cracked concrete above, streaking through his blood-matted hair.

His lips tremble. “You—” he wheezes, blood bubbling up in his throat.

His glassy eyes flicker. His fingers reach for me, weak and shaking. “You were always supposed to be mine.”

Something inside me snaps. “I was never yours.”

Then, instead of merely letting him die, I press my hands against his chest and shove my thumbs into the bullet wound. I bring my face in close to his so that way his last moments will be spent looking into the eyes of the one person he could never conquer, the person responsible for his demise.

He chokes. Blood coats his lips. His back seizes in a violent arch off the ground. Then finally, a strangle, choked scream rips from his throat.

No one stops me. Not my guys, not Avery’s men, and no one who was ever loyal enough to him would step in and help. They let me have this.

“You lost,” I say, echoing Avery’s words from earlier. Eugene really should have listened then.

Finally, I shove him away. His lifeless body slumps against the pavement, and the rain washes the blood from my hands. It’s over.

We’re free. I turn around to rejoin my men. “You think this ends with me, little lamb?”

I spin back around to face him, wondering why he can’t just die already.

He smiles. A low, sick, bloodstained smirk. His glassy eyes stare past me now, unfocused yet too knowing.

His body convulses one last time, and his breath rattles. “They’ll come for you,” he slurs.

Avery crouches beside me with an intent stare on Eugene. “Who?”

Eugene doesn’t answer. Instead, he exhales his final breath.