Page 29 of Descent
Jax had found him.
Rafe was coming back to me.
My teeth chattered in excitement, and my knuckles whitened as I gripped the back of the front passenger seat.
“Do you see them?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
And then I saw it. A shift in the shadows about fifty yards ahead. Through the pelt of raindrops, I watched the shadows grow larger before materializing into the forms of four men…though one seemed to be carrying a bundle.
A bundle too small to be Rafe.
Hope plummeted to the bottom of my gut, and I scrambled from the vehicle, mindless of the wind blasting my too-chilled bones as the guy with the ponytail put a young boy into the backseat of the first SUV. He told the kid to stay put, and my eyes scanned the faces of the four men, throat constricting over the absence of one.
“Where is he?” I demanded of Jax.
He shook his head, apology in his eyes, and I felt my knees give out, sinking into the mud welcoming my boneless limbs.
“No!” I cried in a breathless shriek. “You have to go back! Please. You guys missed him, or…or…”
“Alex,” Jax said firmly, dragging me to my feet and gripping me by the shoulders. “We got the kid out, but we’re not done yet.”
“Where is he?” I braced a hand on his arm to keep upright. “I mean…he’s okay, right? Please tell me he’s okay.”
Jax drew in a long breath then exhaled. “We don’t know.”
“You have to go back! Someone in there has to know something.”
“They’re all dead.”
“What?” I blinked. “You killed them all?”
He jerked his head toward the outbuilding in the distance. “Got one to talk first.”
That statement rang in my ears with the sound of hope. “Where is my husband, Jax?”
He exchanged a careful look with the blond guy…the one they called Rich, and my heart bottomed out.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded through gritted teeth.
“He had a fight tonight.” Swallowing hard, Jax let a tortuous beat pass. “According to Shelton’s guy, the fight’s a death match.”
Oh my God.
“You’ve gotta do something!”
“Don’t you think I would if I knew where he was?” His voice rose several octaves, words punching me in the gut as he let go of my shoulder. Taking a step back, he ran a hand through his blond hair. “Only the higher-ups know where the fight is being held. All we can do now is wait for him to return.”
But I heard what he didn’t say. Rafe might not come back at all.
15. Field of Nightmares
Rafe
The vehicle bounced over uneven ground, tires spinning in the mud in some spots. My prison transport was a nondescript black sedan, four doors with leather seats. Not exactly the type of rig one needed to navigate overgrown, muddy terrain. Shelton sat behind the wheel while Military Dude sprawled on the backseat beside me, his weapon at the ready and serving as a constant reminder that I was screwed, though the fact they hadn’t pulled the hood over my head this time was reminder enough.
Because I’d killed again, and if they didn’t own me before, they sure as hell owned me now. They’d trapped me in this for life. It was Shelton’s ultimate revenge—me, enslaved in death matches that would make him richer, and Alex enslaved to her worst nightmare.
Even if I learned to accept our fate, I couldn’t accept it for my son. I had to find a way to get Will out of the equation of Shelton’s retribution.
We parked on the edge of a field, and the guy next to me prodded his gun into my side. “Let’s go.”
I slid from the car, boots sinking into dark sludge. The rain was letting up, but a shitload of mud caked the ground. The three of us trudged toward a large outbuilding in the distance, where I assumed they’d been holding Will and me. Shelton walked in front, while Military Dude brought up the rear of our trio.
We’d gone maybe seventy-five yards when Shelton came to an abrupt stop. He tilted his head, listening for something, and it was then that I detected it too.
Dogs barking.
Cold dread slithered down my spine.
“What the hell?” Military Dude said, halting behind me. “What’s up with the mutts?”
With a frown, Shelton pulled out his weapon. “Could be a deer.”
But he didn’t believe his own words, and I didn’t either.
We resumed the journey across the field to my new home for the foreseeable future, each step a hair-standing occasion. My survival instincts were going haywire. With no moon to brighten the cloud cover, visibility was a bitch.
But I still saw it.
Shadows emerging from the overgrown field—two of them about fifteen feet on either side of where Shelton stalled in front of me. His head swiveled left then right, gun steady in his hand as he took in the unfamiliar men that surrounded us.
