Not many people had been at her mother’s burning. As a breeder, Sylvia hadn’t spent much time with the general population. She was given her own house, had her own kitchen so she didn’t have to eat in the dining halls. Her only contact had been with her daughter, the doctors, the studs, and the babies she got to keep until they were weaned and stolen away from her.
“Who helped you out of the city?”
Ferris’s question brought another smile to Reese’s lips. “Who says I had help?”
“You’re telling me a thirteen-year-old girl snuck past the city gates? There’s no way you could have done it alone.”
Actually, she had. But she wasn’t surprised he didn’t believe her. From what she’d heard about him, Ferris didn’t have much faith in women.
The previous commander—Hudson and Dominik’s father—had made it possible for women to train as Enforcers if they chose to. Most didn’t, but at least the option had been available to them. When Ferris took over, he dismissed every female Enforcer and recruited only men. And if Hudson was right, he was drugging those men and turning them into bloodthirsty maniacs.
Reese hadn’t believed it before, but now that she was sitting across from Ferris, staring into his cold face, into eyes that didn’t contain a trace of humanity . . . Hudson’s claims didn’t sound so outlandish.
Ferris closed the file and released an annoyed breath. “You won’t talk, will you?”
She leaned back in her chair again.
“I could torture you for days, weeks. I could kill everyone you know right in front of you, and you still wouldn’t give up the names of your accomplices.”
Reese wasn’t as confident about that. She couldn’t imagine idly standing by while this monster held a gun to Sloan’s head, or Rylan’s, anyone’s. She wouldn’t let him kill one of her people . . . she wouldn’t . . .
Would she?
She swallowed hard as she second-guessed herself. The vengeance she’d craved her whole life—that was what drove her. She didn’t believe in love. She didn’t believe in anything but her own need to destroy the Global Council.
Would she let them rip Bethany’s baby from her arms if it meant continuing forward with her plans to crush the GC? Would she let them kill Bethany? Kill Christine?
Reese desperately wanted to believe she wouldn’t. That she’d save the people she cared about. But . . . she couldn’t be sure.
Ferris saw her dark side, her ruthlessness, and that was the side he chose to believe.
“No, you’re not going to give anything up,” he said, making a tsking noise with his tongue. “You’re a coldhearted bitch.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dominik. “Unless you think torture could work in this case?”
Dominik shook his head. “Coldhearted bitch,” he agreed.
Something inside of Reese fractured. She wasn’t always cold. She burned so hot when she was with Sloan and Rylan. But maybe Ferris and Dominik saw the real her. Maybe she was coldhearted.
“All right then.” Ferris nodded. “This interrogation is over. Let’s skip to judgment.”
“Judgment?” Reese echoed.
“I’m going to recommend to the council that they sentence you to death.”
She wasn’t surprised. These bastards’ agenda was always murder.
“I want it to be public,” he continued. “The method of death will be firing squad. We can make an event of it. Have the citizens come out and see the enemy that they’re facing beyond the gates.”
His expression was bright, the first trace of emotion she’d glimpsed in his eyes. It looked like actual pleasure. Arousal, even. This man was a sick bastard.
“We’ll paint the streets red with your blood, and the people will cheer.” Ferris turned to the Enforcer who wasn’t Dominik. “Tablet, please.”
The man handed him a computing tablet. Ferris’s fingers moved over the screen, typing rapidly while Reese sat there with her gaze locked on Dominik, whose face revealed nothing.
Ferris finished up and handed the tablet back to the guard. “Send this execution order to the council. Secure the appropriate signatures.”
“Yes, Commander.” The Enforcer ducked out of the room, and Dominik followed suit without a backward glance.
Ferris looked at Reese and smiled. “I’d offer you food or water or other comforts, but . . . I’m not that kind of man. And you’re not the kind of woman who needs comforts, are you?” He scraped back his chair and stood up, tucking the folder under his arm. “It won’t take long for the execution order to be approved. No more than twenty-four hours. You can spend your last hours in this room, thinking about what you’ve done.”
Chuckling, he sauntered out and closed the door behind him.
A moment later, she heard a lock click into place.
25
Rylan’s eyes felt like they were composed of glue and sand by the time the tired group reached Connor’s camp. He tumbled out of the truck without acknowledging Sloan, who looked like death had kissed him. The entire ride over, Rylan had been telling himself that Sloan could rot in hell, but that did nothing to erase the disturbing image of Sloan’s face, creased with pain. The man had aged ten years in the last ten hours.
Rylan ached all over, inside and out. The physical pains would resolve by themselves. The internal pain was something he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure how to ease other than to get Reese back. It wasn’t right, leaving her behind. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d slept with her. When he’d been part of the People’s Army, training for a rebellion that never happened, they’d drummed into him that a good soldier never left his brother behind.
He’d not only left Reese behind, but he’d all but abandoned her.
There had been no discussion about saving her, only Foxworth. And as much as Rylan enjoyed the town and its people, they only existed because of Reese. The whole damn town should have been riding toward West City, rattling the cages and demanding that the council release her. Instead, they’d come here to Connor’s camp with their tails tucked between their legs.
It pissed him off. He’d save her even if he had to trade himself to do it. All he needed was some intel. He needed to know where she’d been taken and who was going to pilot the Foxworth helicopter that was currently sitting in the north pasture field at Con’s camp.
The camp leader was standing on the porch of the main lodge when Rylan walked up. “Have you made any contact?” Rylan asked his friend.
Connor shook his head. “Not yet.” He frowned as he took in Rylan’s appearance. “Jesus. You look two inches from death’s doorstep. Go get some shut-eye, man. I’ll let you know as soon as anything comes through.”
“No. Let’s call again,” Rylan insisted, refusing to believe he’d come all this way to get nothing. He slapped the sidearm at his waist to signal he was ready.
Connor placed his hand on Rylan’s shoulder and pushed gently. “You couldn’t rescue a mouse in your condition. Get some sleep.”
Rylan hated that the man was right, but he gave a weary nod. He was so tired, a child could do him in.
As he turned to go, he saw Sloan approaching.
“Thank you for taking us in.” The bearded man held out his hand. And Connor, that bastard, shook it.
Rylan seethed at the unknowing betrayal. Con shouldn’t be shaking this shithead’s hand. Con had rescued his woman. He hadn’t left Hudson in the council’s clutches. If Connor knew how faithless and gutless Sloan was, he’d kick the man to the curb.
“We’re going to help you get Reese out,” Connor said. “But for now, you need to get some rest too. In the condition you’re in, neither of you are any good to her.”
Sloan nodded. “Point me in the direction of the nearest horizontal surface. I’m sure I could sleep anywhere.”
“All the cabins are filling up fast,” Connor admitted.
Shit. Rylan began to inch away from the porch, but his leader held up a hand.
“Ry, why doesn’t Sloan crash in your—”
Oh no. He was not letting Sloan into his cabin. No way in fucking hell. He opened his mouth to say just that when Hudson appeared at the door.
“I’ve got something,” she announced.
It was hard not to run her over on the way into the lodge. Sloan charged forward too, and Rylan attempted to shove him, but the man was having none of it. They reached the meeting room at the same time and then stood shoulder to shoulder while Hudson bent over the table. She tapped on a tiny satellite phone.
“Dom? Are you still there?”
Rylan couldn’t help but glance at Sloan, whose eyes flared with hope.
“Still here, sis. I’ve only got a couple more minutes before I have to go, but here’s what I know—they brought the outlaw leader here to the Enforcer base. She’s being held in an interrogation room in the main building, underground. It’s about five feet of reinforced concrete and there’s only one entrance, guarded by a rotation of handpicked Enforcers. Most of them are related to council members—Ferris assigned them because they’re considered highly loyal.”
“Any form of communication?” Hudson asked.
“Negative. Hard to maintain a signal because of the concrete. Even the radios don’t work past the second step. I tried it out earlier today.”
“How is she, Dom?”
“She’s alive,” he said flatly.
Rylan closed his eyes. Alive meant a hundred different things. Was she beaten? How many bones had they broken? Had they taken turns raping her?
Beside him, Sloan remained utterly silent. As if he didn’t give a shit about what had happened. The bastard had raced back to Foxworth, saved the people, and now his task was complete. Why was he even with them? He didn’t care about Reese. Didn’t care about her at all.
Rylan fisted his hands at his sides, longing to drive one of them into Sloan’s impassive face.
“It sounds like our only opportunity is if they move her,” Connor spoke up.
“Yes.” Dominik paused for so long Rylan wondered if the connection had dropped. “They’re going to execute her, old-city style, at the base of the council building as a warning to all outlaws.”
Hudson covered her mouth to suppress her gasp of dismay. Rylan felt his already weak legs turn to water. He staggered backward until his shoulders found the wall. The asshole Sloan didn’t move. It was like he’d turned into a piece of stone.
“When?” Connor asked grimly.
“It’ll take twenty-four hours to have the execution order signed. As soon as it is, she’ll be brought out and charged for crimes against the Colonies. The sentence will take place at nightfall.”
Nope. Rylan refused to accept this. Reese wasn’t going to die.
He pushed forward, slapped his hands on the table, and snarled into the phone. “We’re coming after her, Dominik. Better say your prayers.”
Dominik let out a humorless laugh. “Prayers aren’t gonna save anyone.”
“We need more details,” Hudson begged. “A timetable, location, any weak points. Anything.”
“I’ll get you what I can, when I can, but you’re just gonna have to sit tight until then.”
He cut the connection before they could ask another question.
Enraged, Rylan turned to Connor. “She wouldn’t be here without Reese.” He pointed a finger in Hudson’s direction. He couldn’t even look at her without thinking of the unfairness of it all. Dominik had saved his sister, but he clearly wasn’t risking his neck for Reese.
“I know, man.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s not going to die in there. I’m calling everyone in and we’ll come up with a plan, all right? We’ll take her when they bring her out.”
“Let’s go now. We’ll plan when we’re outside the city walls.”
Connor rejected the half-baked idea. “No. They’re not going to try her until tomorrow. Let’s wait for Dominik to get back with more details. We’ll be able to bring all the right equipment and right people. Besides, you two need to sleep or you’re not coming with us.”
Rylan opened his mouth to object, but Connor shook his head again. “Not happening, Ry. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
Short of hijacking the chopper, Rylan didn’t have any choice. He jacked his hand through his hair in frustration and then spun on his heel. The heat at his back told him that Sloan was right behind him, but Rylan didn’t say a single word as he practically sprinted toward his cabin. He waited until the other man had crossed the threshold before pouncing.
“Don’t you have any feelings? What the hell is the matter with you?” His teeth ground together. “Did you lose your balls in Reese’s cunt? Is that why you’re too weak to—”
He didn’t get the next word out because Sloan’s fist was in his face.
Rylan licked the blood at the corner of his mouth and smiled. Yeah, it was on. He was going to beat this motherfucker who’d left Reese behind. He allowed the righteous fury to drown out his own screaming guilt and launched himself forward, fists out, jaw clenched.
Sloan ducked, but Rylan’s arm was quick enough to land a blow. The impact vibrated up his arm and rang his bell almost as hard as he’d rung Sloan’s. The man’s head snapped back, and then he bared his teeth and drove his shoulder into Rylan’s stomach. They crashed into one of the beds, fists flying and adrenaline surging.
Rylan grabbed the man around the neck and tried to apply pressure to his windpipe, but Sloan was able to push Rylan’s head back far enough to prevent him from gaining any leverage. Then Sloan’s hand went to the back of Rylan’s neck. Rylan saw the action in slow motion—the strong forehead moving toward him, ready to crash into his. He braced himself.
But the head butt that he expected didn’t land.
Instead it was a hard, angry kiss that slammed against his mouth, both salty and wet. Sloan was . . . crying, yet there were no sounds in the cabin except for their harsh breathing.
Rylan’s heart stopped, and he reared back as far as Sloan’s grip would allow.
The other man’s tears streaked down his face in an unrelenting downpour. The expression on Sloan’s face was gut-wrenching. Pale and tired, full of need and anger and regret.
“I miss her too,” he groaned against Rylan’s mouth.
“I should’ve never backed her crazy plan,” Rylan mumbled in response.
His outrage had been wiped away by Sloan’s grief, replaced by bone-crushing guilt that tightened his throat. He’d been trying to ignore it, using his anger toward Sloan to shroud the real reason he was so fucking destroyed: It was his fault Reese had been captured.
In his reckless desire to be seen as an equal, he’d driven Reese to the outpost when Sloan had tried to hold them back and keep them safe.
If anyone should be livid, it was Sloan. But the man acknowledged Rylan’s tortured confession with silence, and in those long quiet moments, Rylan almost broke down in tears of his own.
Since Reese’s capture, all he’d kept thinking was that if he didn’t get her back, he was worse than his father. Sure, his dad had whored his mother out, but he’d never sent her into a dangerous situation to die. Not like Rylan. Rylan had stood in that room egging Reese on while Sloan had been the voice of reason. And now she was gone, and the two men were lost.
They clung to each other, desperate to find some comfort. Rylan’s fingers shook as he pulled at Sloan’s clothes. Their shirts came off. Their pants followed, and soon they were rolling around on the musty cabin floor, naked and hard. It was nothing more than a frantic attempt at distraction, Rylan knew that, but his body responded regardless, pleading for relief, for a way to shut off his brain, even if only for a few minutes.
His erection slid against Sloan’s, and the heat of their grief
-stricken desire burned Rylan like a physical thing. It couldn’t have felt more real if someone had held a branding iron to his back.
He gasped when Sloan’s hand reached between them to grip him.
“Take me,” Sloan growled. “Put your damn hand on me.”
Rylan reached down blindly. His knuckles knocked into Sloan’s and then he found the other man’s hard shaft. Iron sharpened iron. They stroked each other in jerky, uncoordinated movements as they sought their release.
“We’re getting our woman back,” Sloan snarled against Rylan’s lips.
“Damn right we are.” He bit at Sloan’s mouth, scraped his tongue and teeth along Sloan’s chin until the man was arching into his merciless grasp.
“Or die trying.”
Release came. Rylan shouted as Sloan bit into his shoulder. Their bodies shook and trembled as their climaxes filled their clenched fists. Then they both groaned and rolled onto their backs, chests heaving with each labored pant.
Rylan sucked in another breath. He wanted to say something, but the stinging in his eyes and the lump at the base of his throat held him back. He swallowed and tried again. This time when Sloan reached for his shoulder, it was a gesture of comfort. And he leaned into it.
He was in love with Reese.
He’d told himself he just wanted a good fuck with an amazing woman, but he’d been fooling only himself. He’d been half in love with Reese since the first moment he’d met her. If all he’d wanted was a good time, there were any number of beds he could’ve visited. But he’d stayed at Foxworth, leaving his friends behind, because Reese was the brightest star in the entire universe, and he was transfixed.
He rubbed a hand across the hollow space in his chest. “If I’d stayed away from her, I wouldn’t feel this way,” he admitted.
“Once you met her, you were sunk,” Sloan said quietly.