Page 21 of Chase

But none of that changed what he’d possibly done to Sophia.

“T-To take away a m-money resource.” Made sense. We did rely heavily on our security firm when gun and drug sales were low.

“What do the Russians want with us?” Tango asked him. The boy sniffled, crying heavily now, his chest heaving. Tango slid his fingers into the boy’s hair, scraping his nails along his scalp. “Easy. Breathe for me. You’re doing so good.”

The boy drew in ragged breaths, snot running down his face. “Your territory and c-connections,” the boy cried.

Shit. That meant this was going to drag in the Savage Crows, the fucking Sons of Hell, and the goddamn Mexican cartel, too. This was going to be absolute carnage. Alejandro Garcia was just as bad as Johnston, and he had a fuck ton more manpower than all the clubs we were connected to combined.

Alejandro was going to make this shit look like World War III.

Tango used his shirt to clean the boy’s face of snot and some tears. The boy hiccupped. “Can you tell me who broke into the bookstore and attacked the woman who worked there?”

The boy sobbed. “I begged them not to,” he cried. “Is she o-okay? I was s-so sick,” he sobbed.

My heart clenched for him all while my blood boiled in my veins at the mention of what happened to Sophia. How much she’d suffered because of greedy assholes with no fucking morals.

“She’s okay. Got a long way to heal, but she’s coming along just fine,” Tango assured him.

“H-him,” the boy choked, jerking his head the tiniest bit toward the man next to him. “And the VP,” he choked out. “I was supposed to go, but they thought I-I’d be a l-liability,” he whimpered. “I got l-locked in a-a—” He choked on his words.

Fuck. He was just as much of a victim as Sophia. What the fuck? What was the point of him being part of this if he didn’t want to be in it?

“A what, baby boy?” Tango asked softly, still scraping his nails along the boy’s scalp. “Go on. Tell me.”

“A d-dog cage,” he sobbed. “Pa always p-puts me in one when I g-get mouthy or d-do something he doesn’t l-like.”

A dog cage.

Afuckingdog cage.

“Goddammit,” Scorpion snarled, his voice carrying through the otherwise empty room, making the boy jump. Tango soothed him.

“Why are you prospecting if they treat you like that?” Tango asked the boy. I could see the tension riding his shoulders, the anger brewing in his blue eyes. Shit—Tango was connecting with the boy. Which was surprising considering he was the sickest mother fucker out of all of us—even Gidget. He didn’t attach to others well. It had taken himmonthsto really begin trusting us.

“No ch-choice,” the boy choked out. “I’m the p-president’s s-son.”

I looked at Scorpion. He looked at me. Silently, we communicated, understanding running through both of us. He’d never wanted this. He’d been forced into it. The boy wasn’t fit for any club shit. He was too soft, too fucking sweet. And he was on the verge of passing out from fear.

“Let him loose,” Scorpion ordered. Tango quickly began undoing the boy’s ties without a second of hesitation. “He’s your responsibility, Tango,” Scorpion told him. He’d obviously seen what I had. Tango was sweet on the boy.

Tango nodded once and lifted the boy into his arms. The boy wrapped around him like a monkey, sobbing into his neck. Tango didn’t spare any of us a glance as he carried the boy up the stairs and out of the cellar.

Scorpion looked at me. “We’ve got what we need. What do you want to do with him?” he asked, jerking his head in the other man’s direction.

I grinned and shrugged my cut off before rolling up the sleeves of my long-sleeve shirt. The man’s eyes widened. “You know who I am?” I asked him as I stepped out of the shadows, handing Scorpion my cut.

He slowly nodded, being careful of the knife still resting on his tongue.

A cruel smile twisted my lips. “Good. Then you know the woman you attacked ismine. And I’m about to violate you in the same way you fucking violated her.” I bent in front of him, gripping his chin. He winced when the knife cut into the inside of his cheek and his tongue. Blood spilled from his mouth. “Hope you’re fucking ready,” I rumbled.

I began to untie him, and Scorpion and Mark held him down as I worked on stripping him out of his clothes. He yelled and screamed and fought, but I barely broke a sweat. Once he was naked, I tied his hands behind his back and tied his ankles together. Then, I grabbed my knife from my boot and began to cut the club emblem into his back.

He screamed, throwing up, and every time he passed out from the pain, Mark and Scorpion woke him back up. Blood covered my hands and arms and pooled on the floor.

Gripping his hair with my bloody fingers, I yanked his head back. He was sobbing like a fucking pussy. “You’re going to be a message that one day, I’m coming for your VP,” I warned him.

He cried in earnest, trying to apologize, but he was in too much pain to force his brain to work.