We waste no time getting to Mason’s car, and we all pile in. Cam, who’s sitting shotgun, pulls up the map on his phone. “It’s stopped,” he exclaims, zooming in. He rhymes off directions to Mason, who doesn’t hesitate to put his foot down on the accelerator and gun it down the road. “Looks like the industrial part of the city on the outskirts on the West side.”
“Nocturnal Enterprises probably owns property out that way,” Mason muses absently, most of his focus on the road in front of him.
I turn my attention to Beck beside me as he works away on his phone, before a video feed showing some sort of warehouse appears on his screen. Leaning in, I frown at the screen.
“It’s West’s camera,” he explains.
I scan the image for any clues as to where they are, but it’s just a large, generic looking room. It could be any warehouse, owned by anyone, anywhere in or outside of the city.
As I watch, someone moves into view, and I gasp when I recognize my own mother. I mean, I suspected she was behind this—who else could it really be? But I didn’t expect her to show up to do the dirty work herself.
Her mouth moves, saying something.
“Turn it up!” I bark, staring wide eyed at the screen as I desperately try to read her lips.
“What do you want?”
I let out a sigh of relief at hearing the strength in Hawk’s voice.
“Why, son, I want what’s mine. I want my company. All of it.”
I watch, agape, as right before my eyes, Maria turns into something inhuman. Any pretense she had before is discarded as her hatred and rage rise to the surface and overflow. My hand flies to cover my gasp when two brutes come into view, and start beating on West. I can feel Beck vibrating with anger beside me, and my heart clenches as all I can hear is his heavy breathing and pained groans.
“Hurry up!” I cry in earnest to Mason. “We have to get there now!”
He pushes the car faster, and I know we’re going well above the speed limit, but my eyes remain transfixed on the phone in Beck’s hand as the horrifying show continues to play out before us. I mentally store away the implication that my own mother was involved in my kidnapping. I don’t understand how. Lawrence made it sound like he took me to get back at her and Barton, so it makes no sense how she would have been involved, but I don’t have the time now to think about it.
“How long?” I cry, glancing out the front windscreen, and watching as large industrial warehouses fly by at breakneck speed.
“We’re nearly there. Five minutes.” Cam’s voice is tense, and I know everyone is freaking out as much as I am right now.
Focusing back on the screen, I watch in horror as my mother strides toward one of the guards and lifts out a gun.
“Oh god,” I gasp. I can feel vomit rise up the back of my throat as she points the handgun at Hawk, and says, “Now, West. Give me the shares, or Hawk here, dies.”
“This is it! Up here on the left!” Cam shouts, already unbuckling his seatbelt, ready to dive out as soon as Mason pulls into the lot and slams on the breaks. Not hesitating, the second the car stops, I hurtle myself out of the backseat and run toward the warehouse, desperate to reach Hawk before it’s too late, all the while straining to listen over the high-pitched blaring of an alarm for the sound of a gunshot that may as well be aimed at my own heart.
I mentally chastise myself for not having considered the possibility of the warehouse having a perimeter alarm. We must have triggered it when we drove into the lot, and no doubt guards will be on the lookout for us now, so we need to move quickly.
My senses are alert to everything around me as we approach the warehouse. Annoyingly, the loud noise from the alarm makes it difficult to communicate with the others, as well as preventing me from being able to hear if anyone tries to sneak up on us. On the camera, Maria had two guards in the warehouse with her, but she could have more lurking around out here.
How did she even amass people to help her so quickly? She shouldn’t have the connections, or the necessary pull with any of the guards to get them to do her bidding. Nor does she have access to the server to contact the mercenaries, and yet, she clearly has help. The gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach tells me we’ve greatly underestimated Maria Davenport.
Keeping low as I approach the warehouse, I wait for the others to catch up and signal for them to keep quiet and go slow before I ease open the steel door and peer through the crack. I do my best to treat this like any job and go into work mode, but knowing my brother and West are in there make it infinitely more difficult. I’ve never had an emotional connection with anyone I worked with, so I have never had to deal with this, and suddenly the way the compound raises us, tearing apart our humanity and teaching us not to care about anyone other than ourselves, makes sense. It’s the only way to be completely focused on your objective and not let emotions cloud your judgment.
Finding the room beyond empty, I pull the door open fully and enter the room, the guys closely behind me. It appears to be some sort of storage room we’re in, consisting of nothing more than a few large crates. I make a move toward the door on the far side of the room, my objective single-minded, when the alarm cuts out, and the room seems to fall deathly silent as we all share a look. As I start toward the door again, a hand latches onto my wrist and Beck hisses, “Hold on.”
Frowning, I look over my shoulder at him. Not put off by the look I’m giving him, he states, “We need a game plan. We can’t all just go barging in there.”
“I agree,” Mason pipes up, and I purse my lips, knowing they’re right.
Sighing, I nod. “Alright.” I mull it over for a second. “We should split up. Mason and I will continue on this way”—I point to the door behind me—"you two go around the back of the building and see if you can find another entrance.”
Cam looks between Beck and I. “Maybe we should call the police?”
I don’t even need to think it over, shaking my head. “They won’t get here in time. She had a gun pointed at Hawk’s head. Even if they did get here before she did something, I’m not satisfied with her just going to prison. After everything she’s done; everything she’s doing; everything she wants to do”—I shake my head again—“she’s not leaving here alive.”
The deadpan tone of my voice leaves no room for argument, and after a tense moment of silence, Beck sighs. “Okay. We’ll go around back, but be careful.”
He and Cam don’t hang around, moving back toward the outer door and slipping out of the room. Glancing at Mason, I silently check if he’s good to continue. With a grim expression and a determined set to his jaw, he jerks his head, and I continue moving across the room to the door on the far side.