“Stop your fucking whining! I’m sick of hearing it, Wyatt! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just grow the hell up and stop acting so fucking weird?”
A loud slap followed by a muffled cry echoing through the room, letting Michael know that there was actual proof that he’d been hurting Wyatt.
“You need to pull your head out of your ass and start living in the real world.” A commotion rumbled in the background, sounding like Wyatt had just been pushed to the floor. “If you go crying to your momma about this, there will be hell to pay… for both of you. Now, get your ass up before that fucking Mrs. Daniels comes in here to take you home. That bitch is going to try to rat me out for drinking a goddamn beer but she has another thing coming! No one is going to tell me I can’t see my own fucking kid.”
Hearing it again made my stomach turn. The sight of Michael repulsed me, and I’d like nothing more than to beat the hell out of him all over again. But I didn’t have the time to waste on the piece of shit. “Father of the fucking year asshole,” I growled at him as I grabbed the recorder out of his hand.
“How do I know you won’t do something with all this… that you won’t show my folks?”
“You don’t, and if you ever want to see your son again, you better get your shit straight,” I bellowed. Without another word, Michael crawled to his feet and managed to wobble out of the room, just barely making it to his car.
As soon as he was gone, I reached for my phone, checking my messages. I had one from Q’:
Q’: All done. Heading back to the clubhouse now.
I shoved my phone in my back pocket and headed for my bike. So much time had been wasted, making the ride to the warehouse even more agonizing. I couldn’t get there fast enough. I needed to see for myself that Wren was really okay. I knew the Python’s would come after me for killing Victor, but using Wren to do it was a mistake they’d soon regret. It was my fault that Wren was taken, and I’d be the one to make these motherfuckers pay for getting her involved.
By the time Maverick and I arrived, the sun had set, and a light fog was settling over the water, making it difficult to see. I spotted my brothers’ bikes several yards away from the warehouse. After parking next to them, we headed towards the west end of the building, trying our best to avoid the lights that lined that dock. It was quiet – too fucking quiet. I pulled out my phone and was just about to text Cotton, when I heard, “Griffin?”
I turned back and was stunned to see Wren standing there off to the side with Cotton, and even in the dark, I could see that she was bleeding. The side of her head and wrists were covered in blood, causing me to wince in the knowledge that she’d been hurt. I wanted to go to her, hold her and comfort her, but I stood there, just staring at her. I was so fucking relieved to see that she was okay, living… breathing, but the fury that was raging through me in that moment made it impossible to move. The thought that someone had hurt her clouded my relief at seeing her and replaced it with an all-consuming anger.
“Griffin!” she cried again as she rushed over to me, wrapping her arms tightly around me. I held her close, letting the warmth of her touch calm me, and when my anger began to subside, I pulled her back so I could get a better look. But after only a few seconds, I found myself pulling her right back to me, holding her tightly against my chest. I didn’t want to let go. I needed to feel her body pressed against mine until my soul was convinced that she was truly okay.
I was still holding her when she asked, “Wyatt? Is he really okay? Cotton said you found him.”
“He’s going to be fine,” I told her as I released her once again. “Q’ is taking him over to the clubhouse.”
“Thank you,” she cried. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to him.”
“Wouldn’t let anything happen to him or you, Wren. And just so you know, Michael won’t cause any more trouble. He’s done.”
“What? What do you mean, he’s done? What did you do?” she asked hysterically.
“I let him know what would happen if he came back around,” I growled.
“And Wyatt? Does that mean he doesn’t have to see him anymore? It’s really over?” she cried.
“It’s over. Wyatt won’t have to see him, not unless he decides that he wants to, and only if that asshole gets his shit together.” The sight of the dried blood on her flesh sickened me, and I could feel the rage beginning to build again as I reached for her hands. Glaring at the rips and tears along her wrists, I growled, “What the hell did they do to you?”
“I’m fine, Stitch. It’s just a few cuts and scratches. I did most of it myself when I broke out of that stupid trunk,” she explained with her voice trembling.
“They had you in a fucking trunk?” I snapped.
“Stop. None of that matters right now,” she started. “We’ve got to get out of here!”