“Out,” he barks as we enter the small kitchen at the back of the house. The few guys in the room quickly grab their stuff and scurry out, sparing me a passing glance as they move past me.
I hardly notice them though, as Cain turns to face me. In the harsh light of the kitchen, I can see everything that I couldn’t make out in the darkness. I take in the tight set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes that never used to be there. Combined with his unruly black hair that’s been brushed up and stylishly tapered along the sides, and dark stubble, he looks menacing and unapproachable. Tattoos cover his neck, running from his stubble-covered jaw line to dip beneath the neckline of his top, and, dropping my gaze, I can see swirls of colored ink running down his arms and decorating his fingers. I can only guess that every inch of skin in between has been branded too. I can feel his eyes assessing me, the same way I’m scrutinizing him. He’s got the same Reaper Rejects tattoo scratched into his skin that I do, except his is on his left bicep. Looking at his right one, there’s a newer, more professional looking tattoo that I’m guessing is his gang’s insignia. It also says Reaper Rejects, but with a reaper's scythe cut across it.
Pulling my gaze away from the myriad of tattoos adorning every inch of visible skin, I instead notice how much he’s filled out since we were kids. He’s no longer the scrawny boy he used to be, and instead ropes of muscle make his biceps bulge against the tight fabric of his black t-shirt as he crosses his tattooed arms over his chest and leans back against the kitchen cabinets. He crosses his feet at the ankle, drawing my attention to the dark denim jeans hugging his thick thighs and the black, steel-toed combat boots he’s wearing.
My gaze returns to his face, taking in his hardened expression, and fuck, if that steely look in his eye doesn’t kill a little something in me. What has he had to survive in the last ten years? Or is this all a consequence of that day?
After another tense moment of silence where he continues to take me in, his eyes lift to mine, and just when I’m beginning to think I might have made a huge mistake coming here, a wide grin splits his face and he shakes his head, releasing a chuckle.
“Fuck, man. It’s so good to see you.”
He closes the distance between us, clapping me on the back, and I sag in relief as I embrace him back, a nervous chuckle escaping me.
“You too, man. It’s been far too long.”
He steps back, his hands still on my shoulders as he continues to scrutinize me. “You look fucking good, man. Finally outgrew that beanpole body you had.”
He laughs again, and I swear, every time he does, it sounds more like the old Cain I remember.
“Shut up, asshole. Look at you! You on fucking steroids or something?!”
He just laughs and shakes his head, pulling open the fridge door and grabbing a couple of beers. He hands one over to me, and I twist the cap off.
“Is O around?” I’m suddenly dying to see him and get the three of us back together again. It wouldn’t be like old times—too much has happened for that—but it would be fucking great to catch up.
“Nah.” Cain takes a long sip of his beer before answering me. “Dude got himself caught up with The Feral Beasts after, you know…” He trails off, a darkness clouding his eyes, but he quickly shakes it off. “Ended up in prison last year. He’s got about a year left of his sentence, and I’m hoping he’ll join me here when he’s released”—he shrugs—“but we’ll see.”
I nod my head, not altogether surprised by that news. Honestly, I’m just glad he’s still alive. In this world, you never know. I’m sure plenty of the kids we went to school with are long dead and buried.
“So this is all really yours?” I gesture around the room, but we both know I don’t mean the house.
“Yup.” He beams proudly. “We’re a small outfit, but we’re growing. With the Beasts gone, we’ve been able to seize a lot of their territory and start making a name for ourselves.”
I nod. I’ve got a thousand other questions, but I don’t feel I can pry into his operation here and, honestly, I might be better not knowing the ins and outs of it.
“What about you? I bet you made something of yourself.” A cocky smirk curls the corner of his lips. He’s so damn sure I made it in life. “Bet you’ve got the whole shebang—white picket fence, two-point-five kids and the perfect housewife.”
I bark out a humorless laugh. He couldn’t be further from the truth.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I grimace, glancing away before focusing my gaze back on him, fixing him with a determined look. “That’s actually why I’m here. I need your help.”
He doesn’t say anything, watching me closely before nodding for me to continue. I move to the old, wobbly wooden table that I remember the four of us carving our initials into the underside of when we were seven years old, and collapse into the chair, taking a deep breath before I catch him up on the last ten years—more specifically, all the shit that’s come to light in the last twelve months.
The whole time, he leans against the kitchen counter, listening intently with an impassive expression that gives nothing away, and when I finish, a weighted silence lingers in the air as I wait impatiently to see if he’ll help—if he’s even able to help. I didn’t miss the tight lines that formed around his eyes when I mentioned kids being lifted off his streets, and if nothing else, I’m hoping that threat to his town will be enough to incentivize him.
The kitchen door opens, and a young looking guy pops his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, boss. We need you for a minute.”
Cain gives a sharp nod of his head and the guy ducks out, closing the door behind him.
With a sigh, Cain runs his hand through his unruly black hair and fixes me with a look. “It’s late, and I dunno how long this will take. You can have my old room for the night, and we can discuss what to do in the morning.”
“You’ll help us?” I question, half in surprise and half in relief.
He huffs out a breath. “‘Course I will, brother. Not only are they taking kids from my streets, but they’ve got your girl.” He comes closer to me, on his way to the kitchen door, clapping me on the shoulder. “You love her, right?”
“I do.”
He nods, having already known the answer before I confirmed as much. “Then we’re going to get her back.”
Without another word, he leaves the room, and the extent of my relief almost has me keeling over. Suddenly, getting Hadley back doesn’t feel like an insurmountable task. I have no idea what the fuck we’re going to do, or how Cain and his guys can help, but the fact he’s on our side and willing to try, lights a fire within me, sparking hope and a newfound determination.