Page 16 of Unhinged
“Fine,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s talk.”
They huddle together in the corner, their voices low and hushed. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tensionin the room is thick, almost suffocating. Acid’s still fuming, his hands flexing as if he’s itching to resume the beating, while Arrow’s expression is unreadable, though he keeps glancing at me with that same conflicted look. Gears, as always, remains calm, collected—calculating.
The argument doesn’t last long. Acid storms out first, his boots thudding heavily on the stairs as he leaves, followed closely by Arrow, who throws one last uneasy look over his shoulder at me.
Gears lingers for a moment, turning back to face me. He takes a step closer, his face inches from mine, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something other than cold detachment in his eyes—something darker, more dangerous.
“I’m not gonna use your boy against you, Beta,” he murmurs, the chill in his words unmistakable. “But don’t make me tell him his momma is dead.”
With that, he turns and strides toward the door, his footsteps echoing ominously in the small room. He pauses just long enough to flip the light switch, plunging the room back into total darkness. The door slams shut, the lock clicking into place, and I’m alone again.
“Fuck you!” I scream, the words ripping from my throat. “You fucking fuck!”
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can’t afford to break now. Not when everything is at stake. But deep down in the pit of my stomach, doubt festers, gnawing away at my resolve.
How the hell am I going to get out of this?
CHAPTER SEVEN
GEARS
My brothers and I ascend the steps, the old wooden stairs creaking under our weight. The tension between us is palpable. Arrow, normally so composed, looks like he’s struggling with something. His eyes dart around, his expression a mix of frustration and something darker, more primal. Acid, meanwhile, looks like he’s wrestling with his own demons, adjusting himself as if he’s fighting an internal battle.
We reach the top of the stairs, and I lead the way down the hallway toward the playroom. My mind is still reeling from the encounter with our captive. Her audacity and resilience have sparked something in me that I can't quite ignore, but the club and finding out how she knows the Slayer comes first.
The playroom is bright green and full of toys and anything a kid could want, a stark contrast to the darkness we just left behind. The television is on and playing the new Mario movie, its soundtrack blaring through the surround sound. Mac and cheese wafts through the air mixing with my mom’s and baby sister’s scents.
The boy sits at a small table, his attention fixed on the movie as he eats his mac and cheese. My mom, Bettie, and my little sister, Dillon, sit on either side of him, doing their best to keep him entertained and distracted. Dillon is playing with a set of colorful Legos, and Mom is perched on the edge of the couch, her gaze flickering between the boy and the door.
“Where’s my mom?” the boy asks for the one-thousandth time.
“She’s helping us with something, then she’ll be back,” I lie, and my mom cuts her eyes to me in a glare.
“If you hurt my mom, I’ll kick your ass,” the kid says around a mouthful of cheesy noodles.
“My brothers don’t let the club hurt women and kids, right, big brother?” Dillon cocks her head to the side and purses her lips.
“Right,” I grind out, annoyed that my sister and mom are on my ass about this already.
They don’t understand the bigger picture; the stakes involved. We’re on the verge of uncovering something critical—information that could lead us to a serial killer and the source of the drugs poisoning our territory.
“Keep an eye on him. We’re gonna go handle some business,” I tell my mom and sister, motioning for Acid and Arrow to follow me.
Mom gets up from her spot next to the boy. She crosses the room and grabs my earlobe, her other hand copying the action to Arrow.
“Raiden and Orion Briggs. Titus Beck, you mark my words. You hurt that female in any way and I’ll have your asses. Your daddy would be rolling in his grave if he knew you even had a female in his basement. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we reply in unison, and I wince at the hollow promise.
The truth is, I’m lying to her—something that feels almost sacrilegious, given how much I respect her.
“Good. Now go deal with the situation and get this boy back to his momma. You know what it’s like to lose a parent, so to even let him feel an ounce of that is cruel.” She pats my cheek with a knowing look, her gaze softening slightly before she turns back to the table, her attention once again focused on the boy and Dillon.
The weight of her words lingers as we leave the room. I have an expectation to uphold The Renegade and to my dad who lost his life in service to this club.
The three of us make our way down the hallway, then down the basement stairs, the light casting long shadows on the walls. I can smell her—jasmine and oranges—stronger than before, mingling with the stench of sweat and fear. It’s almost suffocating, this heady mixture, and it does something to me. I can’t quite place it, but it unsettles me.
“Fuck, she smells good,” Arrow groans, the words tight and strained.
