Once the atmosphere swallowed the sun again, the chill would hit quickly, and the darkness would shadow everything here. We were nearly three hours from Defiance—three hours post-Chaos was really an hour trip pre-Chaos, but the state of the roads and the dearth of lights and gasoline didn’t make for easy road trips anymore.
But right now, the heat bit into my skin and I wasn’t moving until the last of it disappeared. Then the skin on my back prickled as heat and premonition mixed, and I opened my eyes, fully expecting to see a rise of white smoke in the distance.
“Something you want to tell me?” Bish asked as I continued to stare into the distance.
I dreamed about that fucking copperhead again, I told him.
“At least I know what’s been fucking you up today,” Bish murmured, more to himself than to me. “And that dream’s not a bad one.”
Bish was right. I’d dreamed I’d killed that same damned snake only two times before last night. Once, the night before Bish showed up on my porch; the second, the night before we were ambushed with our team nearly a year ago...and again last night.
According to my father’s superstitions, killing a snake in your dream means victory. Triumph. Not an everyday kind of victory, but a triumph. Something that changes the course of your life forever.
Something that changes you.
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Bish asked, even though he knew why. What he meant was, “Why the hell didn’t you warn me?”
Maybe it’s nothing, I told him, even as the scream cut the air sharper than a knife’s blade, shattering the peace with its terror. When I looked at him in the rapidly fading light, I knew he’d dreamed of that damned snake too.
I was on my feet, wet shorts dragged on, weapon in hand as I threaded my way through the trees as the sun began to fade. Bish would follow after he dressed and covered our tracks.
This was déjà vu. Not the screams, but the scent of danger. Me, running through brush and ducking down to see what was happening.
For just a brief second, there was a young boy in front of me, hiding in the bushes, lying flat. When I looked up, I saw a giant of a man coming toward me in the dark. The boy and I locked eyes and then we locked hands. And then we ran.
My blood racing, I blinked that scene away, because I wasn’t running away this time, because I wasn’t six anymore. But the scene in front of me wasn’t any less intense.
The past months had been about establishing Caspar as Defiance’s leader, defending our territory, training and planning like hell to hold our own against Keller’s mafia. Keller was elusive at best, always with bodyguards, and he kept his biggest weakness, his family, hidden and protected.
And now I was staring at Victor, Keller’s youngest son, who was taking a meeting with the second in command of the Lords of Vengeance in spitting distance.
The LoV was a one-percenter MC, a vicious gang of assholes both before and after the Chaos. They were a misogynistic bunch and Defiance had taken in several women who’d escaped from them and sought refuge. Which meant suddenly we had more mouths to feed. At least production of the tubes had started again full force after Lance was killed, which brought in good money to the MC and the town by extension.
It also meant that smoothing things over with Keller was most important—they were our main source of gas and food, although Defiance did have its own underground gardens and water sources.
It was a complicated relationship, fueled by need and hate. Then again, the best relationships often were.
Rumor was that Keller was in the human-trafficking business and the LoV seemed to be their newest and most productive supplier, because it looked like I’d stumbled onto a sale. In between Keller’s men and the LoV were a man and a woman. I could smell the fear emanating from them from where I hid, crouched low.
Adrenaline flooded through me to the point where I was in danger of acting without thinking. I always moved too fast. Without Bish at my side, I forced myself to stand down, to observe, find my opening.
I couldn’t go back to grab Bish, because the LoV would disappear with the pretty girl.
She was so fucking painfully pretty, pale with long wavy hair, skin like a Botticelli painting my mother used to have hanging in her room. Her hair was loose blond waves down her back—she looked slightly familiar, like she was a movie star. Unattainable.
And then she kicked the man holding her squarely in the balls. That shit made me fall in love.
It was like a kick to my own gut, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. My throat closed, my body shuddered. It felt like getting struck by lightning and my first reaction was to walk out there and grab her.
But this was one of those What would Bish do? moments. I knew how to rescue, but didn’t want to start a war between Defiance and LoV. We had enough trouble with the mafia and, right now, we needed them.
Trafficking was unfortunately easier than ever. A lot of women and guys went willingly, lured by the hope that Europe was in far better shape than the U.S. True or not, I guess they’d find out when they got there. But it was pretty apparent that this girl wasn’t willing. Her hands weren’t tied, but she was a little shaky. They might’ve drugged her to keep her in line, or maybe it was simply fear.
I knew shit like this happened, but knowing and seeing it were two different things. I went taut, like a bow ready to snap and fire.
Bish’s light touch on my shoulder was the only thing that stopped me. I could get a few good shots and Bish could take out the rest, but we wouldn’t do that unless we needed to.
Bish knelt next to me, assessed the situation.
Losing sun in maybe ten, I signed.
For Victor to show for a meeting in person, these two had to be pretty important. Defiance had its ear to the ground, and we’d heard nothing.
Maybe Caspar has, Bish signed back to me, and that was true. The guy didn’t have to tell us everything. Maybe just seeing this transaction would give us some much-needed leverage. That is, if I was willing to sit through the transaction and just watch, which seemed less and less likely, based on the girl’s posture.
Most women I saw with the LoV were one of two types—as lethal as the MC’s men or scared to fucking death.
This one was scared.
“Sex trade.” Bish confirmed what I’d been thinking. “Not getting involved.”
Now that was different from what I’d been thinking. He was right—this wasn’t a war we needed. Defiance was tasked with keeping our own safe, and although Bish and I hadn’t been officially patched into the MC, we were as good as, standing behind Caspar and helping to train Defiance’s Enforcers. It was simply up to us now whether we were in this for the long haul, or if we were going rogue.
You can’t change the world, Caspar always said.
But Caspar had changed his world. So maybe that was a false proverb of some sort, passed down through the generations by men who hadn’t been bold enough.
I’m going in.
Bish gave me a WTF look. “Feeling suicidal today, are we?”
Better way to go than fighting?
“Nope.”
While fighting would be satisfying, we had to be smarter. Especially when it was us against upwards of twelve heavily armed men. But before we could do anything, the girl’d stepped in front of the man she was being sold with, like she could stop the trade—and bullets—with her body alone. When she spoke, her voice shot through me like an AK’s round. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Neither is he.”
Victor smiled. “Honey, you’re going to be on your knees, sucking my dick and anyone else’s dick I need you to. Time to put you in your place.”
Then he turned to the LoV and said, “I’ve got your money—for her.”
“What about him?” The LoV pointed to the guy.
Victor
shook his head, never taking his eyes from the girl. “I don’t need a guy. Put a bullet through him in front of me and I’ll pay you for the girl.”
This was fucked.
Even after Victor told her what would happen to her, she stayed in front of the man, ready to save him.
“You’ve got me. Just let him go,” she told Victor.
I waited for the man she was trying to save to step in front of her, to be a man. Instead, he told Victor, “I’ll make sure you get paid your money if you let me go.”
Let me go. Nothing about her. At that moment, the blonde’s life changed forever. It was as visible as the sun had been minutes before.
We had a much better shot of winning this in the dark.
“Charlie, what are you doing?” she asked, turned to stare at him, but the man named Charlie ignored her, telling Victor, “Take her. I’ll pay.”
Her face told the whole story, like this was the first betrayal she’d ever experienced, and if it was: first, good for her to have gone this long without one; and second, what a hell of a lesson.
She’s important.
“Not anymore.”
The money exchange came through for the guy. As the LoV grabbed her, she turned and looked in disbelief at the man who’d sold her out, the betrayal etched clearly in her face.
We’d grown used to seeing a lot of people being treated like shit. Didn’t mean we liked it, and maybe it wasn’t any worse than it had been before. It’s just that no one bothered to couch it anymore. And you couldn’t fight the whole world, but you could pick your battles.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the beautiful girl’s face. Storm’s coming.
“From all directions,” Bish agreed.
Chapter Two
What’s your price for flight?
Jessa
In that moment, I changed. Something inside me snapped, the crack deafening inside my own head. The sound like water rushing inside my ears was next. I saw their mouths moving but the hands on me were grabbing, burning me like they were fire.
I fought like I never had. Like I’d never had to. And I was all alone, but honestly, I’d rather die than stay with any of them. Including my husband.
Especially my husband. I reached out and tore my nails down his cheeks, deep gouges that drew blood and made him scream like a girl. I heard the other men around me laugh. When I turned to the man trying to buy me and kicked him in the balls—since that had obviously been effective when I’d done it earlier—they all stopped laughing.
But I didn’t stop. I didn’t think I ever could, and that’s what I always feared. It’s why I’d never let myself lose control before, because I was sure I’d never come back from it.
The anger and shame and fear from the past two weeks—the past years—flew out of me before I could think to control it. I knew I’d be hurt, but I didn’t care. I punched and kicked and bit and screamed.
And at that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was fighting to stay alive or fighting in the hopes they’d kill me and I wouldn’t have to be sold to any of these disgusting men. And it didn’t matter, because I had to change something. I’d stayed passive, like Charlie wanted me to, not arguing, listening to the leather-clad gang as they bossed us around and leered at me.
I got hit in the head—I don’t know if it was on purpose or if I was caught in the cross fire, but then I realized Charlie was still trying to stop me. His hand gripped my wrist and he yanked me close, hissed, “You’re a crazy whore, Jessa. Know your place.”
For the first time in my nineteen years, I finally did.
I kicked him while simultaneously throwing a sharp elbow into his stomach. He let me go—he was soft. Always had been. And when I moved back I walked into someone. I whirled around, fist flying.
And then it was stopped like I’d hit a brick wall. A man I didn’t recognize held my fist securely in his hand, inches from his throat. Something in his expression, in those deep obsidian eyes, told me he approved.
He stood so still, my tattooed angel. He was tall, wore only shorts and he was watching me like I was a wounded, unpredictable animal.
Over the past couple of weeks, I’d certainly become one. I was sure he was armed, but he didn’t pull any weapons, just let go of my hand and steered me toward the clearing even as he elbowed one of the LoV in the throat.
I listened to him, moved aside while I could and watched the violent brawl. Dusk had fallen but I was still hot from the fight. I kept my eye on the dark-eyed man and realized he wasn’t fighting alone. The other man was tall and blond and I watched the scene unfold in front of me. I almost felt like I was floating out of my body and maybe I’d been hit harder than I thought.
A man landed at my feet. I blinked and saw there was a knife sticking out of his throat. I recognized him as Ocho, the LoV who’d been guarding me all week. I also recognized the knife he’d used daily to threaten me with.
Poetic justice for sure, coupled with the men who were like avenging angels, if avenging angels wore tattoos and leather.
Who’s to say they don’t?
I didn’t know what would happen when this was over, but I had no place to run. I’d be as vulnerable in the dark as I’d be with anyone.
I bent down and took the knife out of Ocho’s neck. And I waited.
Take the long way home
Mathias
Bish hadn’t stopped moving, wouldn’t until he’d cleared the scene. He was still in the zone. I wouldn’t touch him and trying to call him off at this point was worthless. Besides, the men he’d killed deserved to die and it was better there was no one left to identify us from Keller’s or the LoV. Blowback would come, but it would take a while. I surveyed the carnage for a long moment. There were only two survivors out of the original twelve we’d gone up against.
It’d taken every last bit of restraint I had—and trust me, I didn’t have much—to not strangle the man who’d sold her out without so much as a glance in her direction. Her nails had raked his cheeks deep enough to draw blood. He stared up at me and said, “I can pay.”
You will, I told him. He didn’t understand my signing but that didn’t matter—I knocked him out and signed for Bish to Tie, gag and not kill him.
Bish was glazed but he got the message. This wasn’t to say we wouldn’t take care of him later, but for now, the son of the president of what was left of the United States wasn’t someone we could murder and walk away from.
The fact that we’d killed Victor would bring enough of a shit storm our way. When Bish finished, we’d find out how she and Charlie ended up with the LoV in the first place.
The fact that the president’s son had been taken by MCs told me how fucked up our world had become since the Chaos. I half expected to see Secret Service come out of the trees, but Bish and I both knew from our time in the military that nothing was the same, that post-Chaos security was nothing more than thugs with guns.
Civility was long gone.
I turned to see the girl Charlie had called Jessa in the same place I’d left her, against the backdrop of dying trees, outlined in the dusk. I held up my hands to show her I wasn’t armed and then took a few steps toward her. Surprisingly, she took a few steps in my direction too. She got close enough for me to almost touch her, and then pain seared through my biceps. I’d had worse injuries, but this was unexpected and I howled silently, angry that I’d let her get the best of me.
“Can’t let your guard down just because she’s a woman,” Bish would tell me later, and goddammit, I hated it when he was right. In a flash, I had the knife she’d used on me in my hand—the knife I’d stabbed an LoV with, no less.
I didn’t waste time worrying about it. Instead, I turned the knife’s blade in her direction and let it fly.
She opened her mouth to yell when I threw the knife, but she was too s
cared to move. She’d also closed her eyes and, after a long moment, she opened them and stared at me. And then she followed my gaze as it traveled from her face to the dead snake on the ground next to her feet.
By the time she’d started to look back at me, I had her in my arms.
And she was fighting again, tooth and nail, the way she’d been earlier. I couldn’t talk her down, but my hands weren’t anyplace threatening as I subdued her and carried her away from the madness, since Bish was in the gasoline phase of his massacre. She’d be traumatized for life by his plan to make all these men hard to identify. The smell of burning bodies wasn’t something you forgot the scent of, ever.
She had a lot to learn, but I wouldn’t want to be in a fight with her when she did.
“Let me go—put me down.”
When we got close enough to the van, I did just that, kept her back to Bish and the fire and waited to see what she’d do.
She starting coughing almost immediately and I pointed to myself, then the van, then back to me. She stared at me, like she was waiting for me to talk. She’d be waiting forever and we just didn’t have that kind of time.
I pointed again and moved my hand in the move-it-along, fast-rolling motion and she didn’t do a thing. I don’t think she even blinked or breathed. I put my hands up and took a step closer to her, then extended my hands out to her. I rarely fought completely bare-handed, but this time things had happened too fast to grab my gloves to ward off the damage. My knuckles were bruised, my hands had blood on them and she was half frozen, half ready to run. I never took my eyes from hers. It was oddly silent. I knew she was fucking terrified of everyone and everything at that moment and I sure as shit couldn’t blame her.
Finally, she reached her hands out and put them in mine. I jerked my head to indicate that we were going into the van and she panicked again. But I took her by the wrists before she could slide away and my thumbs rubbed the vertical scars there.
They were deep. It had been a serious suicide attempt. I stared at her and Bish came up from behind her and said, “We’re not going to hurt you. I’m sure the LoV didn’t promise that.”
Redemption: A Defiance Novel Page 2