The Bonds We Break (The Four #5) Read online

  Thinking fast, I shook my head. “It all happened so quickly. My sister might have written the number plate down wrong. Is it a plain white van?”

  A look of relief came over her face. “Oh, ours is white, but it has our logo on the sides. Large flowers—you can’t miss them.”

  I widened my smile. “Phew. In that case, we have the wrong van. I’m sorry to bother you. Thank you for your time.”

  “Good luck in finding the culprit, dear.” She tutted. “Drivers today! Too many people in a hurry, that’s the problem.”

  “True.” With a smile and a nod, I left her, getting back into my SUV. I continued down the road so I could find somewhere to turn around, calling West again using my Bluetooth connection to give him the latest update. The bloody Bluetooth wouldn’t connect to begin with, but after I punched my dashboard a couple of times, it decided to work.

  “Cass?” West answered as I was executing a perfect three-point turn in a side street.

  “Did you know that Bluetooth was named after a Viking king?”

  “What the fuck are you on about?”

  Focus. “Never mind. So the van belongs to the flower people, but they said it’s not supposed to be in use today. It’s kept in a car park—I’m heading there now, but can you pull up any feeds around the place?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. There might not be any, so leave your phone on. I’ve got your tracker up on the screen so I can see where you are.”

  Back out on the main road, I headed back past the flower shop again and indicated to turn down the road that the woman had pointed out.

  “Stupid fucking side streets. I’d better not scrape my car,” I muttered, wincing as I squeezed between the buildings.

  “Cass? I’ve located the car park, and guess what. It’s right behind the hotel Littlefinger was staying in.”

  “I thought I recognised the area.”

  “Cass?” Caiden’s voice was suddenly on the line. “If you see the van, don’t go running into shit. We’re on our way if it’s confirmed that he’s there, so wait for us. Z’s contacting Creed, too, since he’s closer than we are.”

  “Yeah,” I said distractedly, reaching the end of the lane. It opened into a private parking area surrounded by a chain-link fence and a barrier entry. Right in front of me, parked directly opposite where I’d stopped, was the van. “It’s here.”

  “On our way. Don’t move until we get there.” Caiden ended the call.

  Fuck that. I wasn’t about to hang around, not when Jessa was in danger. Continuing past the car park and out onto the other side, I drove down the street until I found an open parking space. Once I was parked, I called Austin again, and this time he answered, sounding out of breath.

  “Any news?”

  “I’ve found the van. I know she’s here somewhere.”

  He let out a string of swear words. “I’m on my way to the airport, getting the first flight home. I’ve left a message for Creed, and I’ll keep trying him until I get an answer.” His voice cracked. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, hoping he could hear the conviction in my tone.

  After removing my sunglasses, I exited the car, and slid my phone into my pocket, making sure the tracking was still on. I forced myself to wait for a minute. My boys weren’t with me, but that didn’t mean I was helpless. I was Cassius motherfucking Drummond, and I’d make sure that Littlefinger would regret the day he stepped foot in Alstone.

  Still, it would be helpful to have a gun right about now. Or a knife. Or even a slingshot. Fuck, I’d take a fountain pen at this point.

  Then I remembered the folding mini shovel that was kept in my glovebox with the emergency supplies. It was supposed to be there if I ever needed to dig the car out of mud or snow or something—I’d never even looked at it before now. But if shovels were good enough to take out zombies in The Walking Dead, then maybe they’d be good enough for me.

  I hoped.

  Grabbing the shovel, I unfolded it and clasped it in my hand, attempting to look natural in case anyone wondered what I was doing. Rummaging in the boot, I found a wrench and the forgotten bolt cutters that had been lying in the car ever since the last time I’d used them, when we were taking down an illegal dog-fighting ring.

  Now I was fucking ready. Who needed a gun or knives when you had rusty bolt cutters, a wrench, and a small shovel?

  As inconspicuously as I could, I made my way to the car park and ducked under the barrier. There were two cameras, but I had to take my chances. First of all, I peered inside the van, which was empty except for a few bunches of flowers. That ruled that out. Clenching my jaw, I scanned the buildings around me, my eyes coming to rest on a dilapidated, taped-up four-storey building on the far left that looked like it was partway through demolition. One side of it was torn away, covered in plastic sheeting that flapped in the breeze. My gaze passed over it as I continued to scan the area, then slid back to it.

  Pulling out my phone again, I ducked down behind the van, out of view of the cameras, and called Weston back to let him know what I’d found.

  “We’re on our way with the drone, so we can try for a heat signal in the building then—it might pick something up. From what I can tell, the building was a car park and storage facility, but it’s being pulled down.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” I told him. “Do you think she could be in any of the other buildings?”

  “They’re all legit businesses, from what I can tell, except for the brown building with the black windows—that one’s apartments.”

  “Hmm.” I thought about it. “My gut feeling is the demolition building, but I guess the apartments are possible.”

  “There’s the hotel he was staying in, too,” he reminded me.

  “Yeah, but getting Jessa inside it without attracting attention might be difficult.”

  “Good point.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna try the demo building while I’m waiting for you.”

  “Don’t do anything without us. Cade will fucking kill you, and so will I if anything happens to you,” my best mate warned me, his tone hard.

  “It’s okay.” A grim smile twisted across my lips as I tapped my shovel with the tip of the bolt cutters. “I have my zombie killers with me.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, bye.” I ended the call because we had no time to waste, and if I stopped to think about everything that could go wrong, my head wouldn’t be clear enough to face whatever waited for me. Squaring my shoulders resolutely, I headed for the demolition building.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “How did I ruin your life?” My throat was so sore, but I forced the words out in a hoarse, cracked voice. My only option was to keep Petr talking in the hope that I could buy myself some time. No one knew where I was, so maybe it was pointless, but I wasn’t about to lie down and take whatever he had planned for me.

  Instead of answering, he crouched down in front of me. Lifting his hand, he placed the tip of the knife to my thigh and pressed down before drawing away. A gasp fell from my throat at the sudden sting, a bubble of blood appearing where he’d cut me.

  “How?” I whispered again, whimpering as his other hand came to my cut thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh as he bared his teeth at me in a snarl.

  “Whore. You ruined me.”

  “What did I do?” My fear was temporarily overridden as I stared at him, racking my brain for what I could have done that would have been so bad that it had drawn him to this.

  “You ruined me,” he repeated, spitting out the words through bared teeth. Gesturing to his crotch with the knife, he snarled something that I didn’t know the meaning of—kastrirovala—but a memory flashed through my mind, and a dawning horror came over me.

  The photo he’d sent.

  The bloody screwdriver object.

  The way I’d wildly jabbed it up, and his agonised howl as it had pierced easily through his jeans and into his flesh.

  Guilt like I’d
never felt before raged inside me, warring with the voice in my head that insisted he’d brought this on himself.

  A choked sob fell from my throat, tearing painfully at my abused vocal cords, but I couldn’t stop it. Was this my punishment? Was this how it would end?

  The tears came thick and fast as he continued to snarl words at me, his gaze filled with retribution. Standing, his hands went to the button of his jeans, and he yanked them down in a quick, jerky movement.

  My jaw dropped.

  I stared in horror, helpless to look away, facing the evidence of my panicked movements that night at the docks. Instead of the normal…equipment…there was a misshapen stump—a mess of angry red scarring… My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out the sound of my panicked breaths, my brain unable to process just how awful it looked—

  The punch came out of nowhere, directly into my midsection. Gasping, I curled my body instinctively, jerking back when my bound arms stopped my movement. Pain throbbed through my body, filling me until I couldn’t even breathe, or think, or do anything except remain frozen in place. Another punch, and I heard a crack, and a sharp, agonising burst of pain swept through me, starting at my ribs and radiating outwards.

  He laughed at my choked whimper.

  Through the haze of burning agony, I dimly registered a loud clang coming from somewhere and Petr’s footsteps heading away from me. Holding myself very, very still, I closed my eyes and took an unsteady breath. Then another. Then another, my lungs burning with every inhale and exhale.

  There was a rustling sound, like plastic sheeting being moved. “He is here for you.” The amusement in Petr’s voice pierced through my consciousness. “He came alone. Stupid boy.”

  Instantly, I knew who he was talking about.

  Cassius.

  I had to protect him.

  Fear for the man I’d fallen for overtook the pain, shocking my body with a burst of sudden adrenaline.

  Opening my eyes, I stared straight at Petr.

  “No,” I rasped. “Don’t…hurt…him.”

  His gaze flew to mine, his flinty eyes narrowing and his lips twisting into a mocking sneer. I vaguely noticed that he’d pulled his jeans back up, and that was something I was more than grateful for, because I was struggling to even speak right now, and if I was confronted with the evidence again…

  Cassius. His gorgeous, smiling face came into my mind, and it gave me the strength to push the words out. “Please. I’ll…do anything. Anything.”

  “You would give yourself for the boy?” Surprise flashed in his gaze before it was replaced with a cold, calculating look.

  I nodded once. I no longer noticed the tears that fell or the hurt that encompassed every part of me. All of that was unimportant. Nothing mattered except keeping Cassius safe.

  Because I loved him.

  “Stay quiet, and do not move. When he reaches us, I will incapacitate him—”

  The panicked noise that came from my throat gave him pause, and he shook his head, a short, impatient movement. “I will not harm him. I will allow us time to leave. And you will willingly agree to be mine, suka. Mine to break, until you cannot be repaired.”

  Crossing back over to me, he gripped my throat, squeezing until my vision swam. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” I choked out with the last of my breath.

  “It is done.” He released me, and precious air filled my lungs.

  The adrenaline drained from my body in a rush. As long as Cassius was okay, I could handle it. Even if I wasn’t going to make it out alive.

  My eyes fell shut.

  Darkness came, swift and blissful.

  TWENTY-THREE

  By the time my fingers closed around the handle of the fifth door, I was beginning to regret bringing the bolt cutters and the shovel. Carrying one in each hand was fine, but two in one hand wasn’t ideal. Shifting my grip, I swung the door open.

  I had about five seconds to scan the room.

  It was long enough.

  Five…a long trail through the thick layer of building dust on the floor, with footprints at regular intervals, like someone had been dragged into the room.

  Four…the whole side of the room was missing, covered with the plastic sheeting that I’d seen from the outside.

  Three…two chairs in the centre of the room, facing away from the missing wall.

  Two…a girl, slumped in one of the chairs, eyes closed, her head lolling to the side.

  One…a flash of silver and a dark shadow.

  My body reacted on instinct, fuelled by the rage that burned a white-hot path through my veins. Dropping my hold on the door and gripping onto the shovel and bolt cutters in both hands, I twisted my body and swung out. There was no time to think, but I knew I had to do it.

  Everything happened so fucking quickly.

  A loud curse word that definitely wasn’t in English, then a body slamming into mine, followed by a slashing pain across my side.

  The bolt cutters fell from my grip as I was knocked to the floor. Blinking, I climbed to my feet, my eyes taking in the scene in front of me in an instant. Littlefinger, also clambering to his feet, a knife clutched in one hand and the other grasping his thigh where there was a gash in his jeans, a dark red stain seeping through. I allowed myself a second of satisfaction as I stood up straight.

  “You’re going down, fucker.” I grinned, without humour for once, but with the knowledge that he was about to pay for what he’d done.

  He lunged at me with the knife, but I was ready with my zombie killer shovel.

  I swung it.

  It connected with his head with a loud, satisfying thunk, and he dropped to the floor like a stone.

  Without even wasting another breath, I ran across the room to where Jessa was tied to the chair and let the shovel fall from my fingers. Smoothing her hair back from her face, I gripped her chin in my hand. “Jessa?”

  She looked so fucking small and fragile.

  And she wasn’t waking up. Why wasn’t she waking up?

  “Jessa!” Fuck, why couldn’t I think?

  I placed my hand against her chest and felt it. The slight rise and fall, shallow but there. She was alive. I wasn’t too late.

  My eyes fucking stung.

  “Jessa, wake up. Fuck, please.” Dropping to the floor, I went to clasp her hand in mine, and that’s when I realised she was tied to the chair. Why hadn’t I noticed?

  My fingers betrayed me, shaking too much to undo the knots. With a groan, I tore myself away, running back to my discarded bolt cutters and swiping them from the floor. With a quick glance at Littlefinger to make sure he was still out cold, I raced back over to Jessa and carefully cut her free, finally managing to untie the bonds. Her wrists and ankles had been rubbed raw, and there was a trail of blood running down her leg from a spot on her upper thigh. My gaze tracked over her body, a red haze of anger descending as I took in the darkening bruising around her throat and thigh. If I hadn’t got here when I had…

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Carefully, so fucking carefully, I lifted her into my arms and sank to the floor. A whimper of pain tore from her.

  “Jessa?”

  “C-Cass?” Her voice was so hoarse that I could barely make out what she was saying. Gritting my teeth against the rage that flared up again, I kept my attention on her. Her lashes fluttered, and then she slowly blinked her eyes open and looked up at me.

  My breath caught in my throat. The green was dulled, the whites of her eyes shot through with red. Her skin had paled beneath her tan, and her normally pouty, soft lips were cracked and almost colourless.

  She gave a slow, heaving breath, her body shuddering against mine. “Petr?”

  “I took care of him.” Even though I tried to keep my voice soft, it came out as an enraged growl. “That fucking bastard deserved so much more than being knocked out by my zombie killer.”

  The tiniest of smiles tugged at her lips, and there was an ache in my chest. “Zom—”

  “Yeah,�
�� I interrupted to save her from talking when she was in so much pain. “My shovel. Doubles up as a zombie killer, or in this case, to knock out—”

  A small scraping sound was the only warning I had, but my instincts were on point today, and I lifted Jessa off me, pushing her behind me and spinning around in a crouch. Littlefinger was lunging at me, knife in the air, and my shovel was too far to reach.

  The wrench.

  I yanked it from my pocket and threw my arm out, connecting with his shin as hard as I could. A howl came from him, and then there was another noise from behind him as he fell into me—shouts and running footsteps.

  His weight was only on me for a couple of seconds before it was gone.

  When I looked up, Creed was standing there, extending a hand to me.

  Climbing to my feet, I turned away from Littlefinger, trusting Creed to deal with it. The only thing that mattered right now was making sure that Jessa was okay.

  “Wait.” He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Watch what happens. You’ll both want to see this.”

  My gaze slid back to Littlefinger and the tall, grey-haired man in the black suit that was standing in front of him. I nodded and made my way back over to Jessa. She’d actually climbed to her feet, and although she was gripping onto the back of the chair, holding herself unnaturally still, I was so fucking proud of her. Defiance that I thought might have died gleamed in her eyes as her gaze focused on Littlefinger, the green brighter again, and that ache in my chest grew, impossible to ignore.

  I carefully curled my arm around her waist, drawing back when I heard her hiss of pain. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “J-just bruised.”

  Before I could reply, her attention was caught by the man standing in front of Littlefinger. His features were harsh, his face showing no expression as he spoke to Littlefinger in Russian, shaking his head at Littlefinger’s replies. When Littlefinger gestured towards us, Jessa’s breath hitched, and I placed my hand over the top of hers, curving it over the metal chair back. She leaned into me, swaying slightly on her feet but letting me support her, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.