Chapter 25: SAM IS BACK

The phone buzzed in Riley’s jeans. Noah ignored the messages. He imagined what they said, who wrote them, who got his phone number after harassing Eve.

Duncan’s call had interrupted their little moment. It broke their bubble, and Noah had felt the fall to reality like a loud crash in his being. However, as he answered the phone, his lips feeling tingly and numb from the kiss, Noah had planted a hand in Rune’s chest, straightening at the words that came from the other side of the line. His high was already disappearing, replaced by a disgusted feeling in his gut, far too familiar, far too close to the desire that burned for Rune.

The way down to the road had been quick and uneventful. Noah was already deep in thought, barely paying attention to the height. His mind was in another kind of danger. Rune silently followed, their contact limited to the carabiners scratching against the metal.

Noah doesn’t want to open the messages, so he sits in deliberate ignorance. His head is against the window of the Corvette, the vibration drowning his racing thoughts. They are headed to Duncan’s warehouse, where they will find not only the couple, but Sam. And possibly Silas and some more men. All of them waiting for the star guest, the target of their revenge. He swallows, and he shoves below the messenger bag, hoping Rune can’t see the trembling. It’s not a good kind of trembling. It’s a warning.

They are soon seeing the poster of the building consumed in rust, the words faded and almost unreadable. The ride was cut even shorter by the urgency. Rune’s face is stone, the only telling sign his twitching jaw. Noah wants to apologize, but Rune’s words still echo in his mind. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

The white van is parked outside, along with a Mercedes. The metal door is wide open. A silent invitation to step in the lit interior, the makeshift garage. Rune stops the car near the van, leaving an empty exit path. Noah looks at him, the boy’s eyes are fixed in the building, his hands are clutching the steering wheel with brute force. His tenderness is gone, and Noah would’ve sworn he had been with two different people. Two twins.

“You don’t have to come,” Noah says with a whisper. In the dead silence, it’s a shout, it rings in Noah’s ears. Too loud.

Rune doesn’t respond. He stops the engine, and gets out of the car. Instead of going forward to meet their fates, he circles the car to the trunk. Noah follows him silently. Rune is checking the magazine of a small black pistol. Noah is not an expert in weapons, but he has seen many bullet wounds to know it will kill the same. There’s an arrange of weapons in the trunk. A revolver, some knifes, even chains. Rune offers Noah the pistol, his piercing eyes studying Noah’s uncertain face. Noah winces at the sight, his fingers reaching up to brush the cold metal. However, he recoils. 

His hands sink in the small space in front of him, closing around another kind of metal. It’s heavier, more sturdy, made of iron instead of the steel of the fire weapon. The crowbar is sleek but deadly, used with rage instead of aim. It’s to trash. Breaking havoc is Noah’s preferred method of fighting, his specialty in turning a spark into a flame. 

Noah takes the lead. He hears the muffled thump of Rune’s military boots, and the crushing weight on the gravel, and he knows Rune will have his back. The crowbar glistens as he comes inside. He doesn’t hide his hostile mask, nor his weapon or his threat. Even if his hands are slightly trembling, or blood is rushing in his ear. He ignores his fear, because he has to survive. 

The garage is lit by fluorescent tubes, giving it an eery aspect, a just-out-of-reality vibe. The space not covered by tools or their cars is packed with people. Eve and Duncan are cornered by Sam’s hunchmen; Duncan is hugging Eve from behind. The long white dress flows with the humid breeze, her eyes are narrowed at the men, as if challenging them. Noah has seen her fight. Maybe she doesn’t have the strength to butt heads, but she’s skilled in martial arts. 

Silas notices their arrival, and whispers something to Sam, whose back is turned, seemingly looking at the Tesla. He turns, a vicious grin widening his hollow face. 

“You look awful,” Noah says before he can stop himself. The words fly out of his mouth, light as a feather but seeking to do the most damage with their pointy claws. “Like your club went up in flames.”

Sam chuckles. “You, on the other part, look so pretty.” He points to the shadow at his back, and his eyes shine with hunger. “Did you two fuck? Are you preparing for me?”

Noah offers a grimace, frozen between a smile and disgust. He doesn’t respond, as he feels a hand gripping his wrist, the tightness is a warning. He glances down, his growing anger drowning in the warmth of his skin. 

Sam claps, drawing Noah’s attention from Rune’s hand. He slowly raises his gaze, clutching the crowbar, his muscles tensing. Sam’s eye briefly dart round the crowbar.

“Don’t worry. As much as I’d like to finally take both of you for me, I’m here as a messenger.” He flicks a finger to Silas, who extends a folded paper to Noah. As he doesn’t take it, Silas shoves it in his chest, forcing Noah to take a staggering step backwards. He makes no move to unfold the paper, although he does take it from Silas. His narrowed eyes are still watching Sam. “Business before pleasure. That is a list of places to rob. Consider it as paying the interest for the money they lost because of you.”

“We don’t owe you shit,” Duncan snarls.

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“Not to me. But to the owner of the club.” Sam nods. “If you don’t pay, we’ll take someone as payment. They’ll work to gather all of the money.” His eyes travel from Duncan, to Eve, to Noah, to settle somewhere behind. Noah knows, he doesn’t have to follow his gaze. “I would love to have you back.”

Noah curses under his breath, finally reading the addresses on the paper. He tilts his head, but the ink swirls around in meaningless scribbles. Or maybe it’s his wandering thoughts, still caught at the top of the bridge. He tries to tap into his anger, but finds nothing. Not even the scratching of survival, or the desperation tearing up his heart. There is only a pair of piercing eyes, and their search for answers that Noah couldn’t provide, and a determination staring back at those eyes. The crash of his adrenaline rush has left him with barely enough energy to carry himself, much less to fight. The prospect of putting everyone in danger crushes every response, every word, every challenge. 

“Okay.” Noah answers.

“Riley,” Eve warns.

“You bastard.” Duncan shouts, gaining a glare and a threat from one of the men. “Come for me, assholes. I’ll beat you the fuck up.”

“How much time do we have?” Noah asks quietly, inspecting the paper. His heart is racing, and it takes all control he still has to breathe. The motions of his chest filling up with air hurt, they feel unnatural. 

“I’ll contact you.” Sam responds, pointing a finger at Noah, approaching with the slow steps of a predator. “So the next time, answer my texts. Understood?”

Noah bites back a retort, nodding. Silas laughs, murmuring something to one of the men. Noah tilts the crowbar so that the entire length of the iron weapon can be seen from their perspective, his head snaps to him. No words come out, but his cold gaze says enough to silence the mocking smile. Noah feels a tug on the collar of his T-shirt, he lets himself be dragged until his back is against a bomber jacket. 

Sam laughs, “You’re his master… I hoped I would break into him.” And with no warning, Sam’s wide eyes are inches from his own. The putrid breath strokes the places that Rune has caressed before, and the thought of it revolves his stomach. Nausea builds at the top of his throat, and the bitter taste of bile punches his tongue. He swallows, trying to ignore the disgust. 

He stays still as Sam brings out a silver revolver, a caliber that would tear at skin, bone and muscles, destroying anything and everything. The barrel of the gun rests against the soft skin under Noah’s jaw, forcing him to bring his head back. However, he maintains his eyes on Sam’s. He hears Eve yelp, and Duncan shouting profanities, but he doesn’t dare look their direction. They’re alive, and that’s all that matters.

A shadow in the corner of his vision, and Rune’s red and black hair is suddenly blocking half of Sam’s body, or maybe covering half of Noah’s body from Sam. One of Rune’s hands is gripping the barrel of the pistol. “We already said we’d do it.” Sam’s jaw twitches as he smiles fondly at Rune. 

“Look at me, asshole.” Noah snaps, because he can deal with violence— he thrives in violence— but watching someone else suffer it shatters his heart. He might not be able to bear it, he might plead, he might tear up. 

He’s relieved when Sam’s attention is back at Noah, even with Rune’s body between them. “Oh,” Sam exclaims, chuckling, “so it’s true you fucked. Is that the trick to subdue your rebellious spirit?” Then, he says out loud, for everyone to hear, “The little birds are in love. Look at how they protect each other.” It’s venom turning Noah’s blood cold. “I figured you out.”

When the gun recedes, the visitors leave the place. Noah doesn’t watch them go, he’s aware they’re gone when the door closes, and Eve sighs. A second later, he unclenches his hand from Rune’s jacket with a wince. His broken hand is sore from holding on for such a long time.

There’s no anger filling his thoughts, just a decision.

He’ll kill Sam, before he can hurt the group. Before he can hurt Rune even more.

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