Jase has come back and stands beside my way out, guarding it. As I walk towards him, he raises his Glock and aims straight for my forehead. One shot, one kill. From working with him, I know it’d be a miracle for him to miss.

My heart rate steadies into an even beat. The finality of the situation brings some form of calm to my chaos. As I step in closer, the barrel digs into my skin. “You seriously think I’m bothered about dying?” I raise my eyebrows. My hushed words only for Jase’s ears. “I’ve just found out the blood in my veins is from the pits of hell. My supposed half-brother tried to rape the woman I love. And you think I’m fucking bothered about my life?” My breaths labour as I attempt to control the agony, which spikes in my chest as the truth sinks in. “What the fuck do I have left?” I’m either signing both mine and Lizzie’s death warrants, or laying my world open for a friend.

“Shit, Noah. Play the game.” His voice is almost inaudible, and his eyes plead with me.

I know for sure Jase is somehow linked with Bear, and the weight on my chest lifts a fraction, but the heat in my veins renews with force. Bear hasn’t set me up for a fall; he’s using me as bait. And I’m going to beat the living shit out of the lying bastard when I get my hands on him.

“Just fucking do it.” My yelled words echo around the cavernous hangar.

With my eyes trained on Jase, I hear the sound of light footsteps creeping closer. My muscles flex, ready to unarm the men behind me, but Jase gives an imperceptible nod. I need to make a choice. Do I maintain the trust in Bear I’ve had for years, or do I die here? The thought of Lizzie left in the possession of Archie hastens my decision and the trust in my friend wins out.

I pray I’m right.

Jase’s left hand loosens on his weapon, giving me the in I need. I drop my left shoulder and twist my body away from the firing line, simultaneously bringing up my left hand to grab the inside of his right wrist, drawing his arm across my body. The gun goes off as I rotate my torso, further extending his arm, and then wrench it down behind his back. The telltale crack of breaking fingers and the sudden intake of breath from Jase hits me as I twist the gun from his grasp. Jerking him back against me, I bring the weapon to rest under his chin.

My gaze comes to rest on two guys I’ve never seen before, their weapons cocked and trained on me.

“No, no. I need him alive.” Archie strides over, waving his arms.

“For what?” I spit out.

“For my plan to work.”

“What. Fucking. Plan?”

Jase struggles against me. I release him and push him away from me, then take his legs from under him with a swift kick. He falls on the floor and clutches his broken hand, a sly smile on his lips. Crazy bastard loves this shit.

The two armed men slowly lower their weapons, and wait for further instruction.

Thoughts whirl through my mind, and it hits me. This isn’t me anymore. This isn’t who I want to be. I’d be happy running Ignition, coming home to a family every night. Not doing this shit.

Preoccupied with my thoughts, I don’t pick up movement behind me until it’s close. I swing around to be greeted with the butt end of a rifle impacting my temple. My head flies back, taking me off balance, and my vision fogs, but I catch a glimpse of the assailant before everything fades out. I realise I’m right royally screwed. I’ve seen the face in front of me a million times over the years. The bastard who knocks me out is Bear.

I wake, back to the floor, with a splitting headache. I raise a hand to my temple and take a sharp breath when I press against the tender, broken flesh. The heavy smell of gunfire lingers in the air, burning my nostrils. My vision blurs when I lift my head from the ground. A few seconds later, the fuzz disappears, but I’m unable to focus. I squint through the darkness, the only glimmer of light coming from around the thick metal door.

Just fucking great.

I’m in the dead room in the slaughterhouse.

What the hell am I going to do now? Different escape tactics swim around my mind, but they all end the same way. I don’t have a problem with death. It’s easy to come to terms with when the possibilities outweigh any other scenario. I’ve been here before, by choice. Bear saved my arse last time. This time he’s the fucker responsible, and that card being dealt changes the game.

Every muscle aches when I pull myself up and against the far wall. Lizzie’s here somewhere and I need to get to her. In my mind, I try and map the layout over and over, knowing I have numerous obstacles to overcome. Namely, one big fucking one. How the hell am I getting out of here? I check my back, but unsurprisingly, the gun Jase gave me is gone.

Beyond the holding room is the arena. Most of the offices, which run down the length of the hangar, have been converted into dorms, the surveillance rooms built above them. The others have been converted to gyms. At the far end is where I’m at. The slaughterhouse. Custom-built walls inside to minimise noise deflection. The armoury sits on the right-hand side, roughly halfway down, and there’s canteen in the middle where you can sit and eat while watching people get the shit kicked out of them in the arena.

My escape options skitter through my mind and I wind up with one. My only choice. Unless by some act of great stupidity they left the door unlocked, my only choice is to overpower whoever comes to get me.

I only have to wait for a few more minutes before the electric buzz sounds from the digital lock on the door. It opens a fraction but doesn’t move further. More light seeps in. It would have been better for me if the lights were off, but I suppose I’ll have to make do. Just as I wonder if this whole scenario is another trap, the door pushes wide open. The sudden brightness has me reaching to cover my eyes while my vision adjusts.

Backlit, a looming figure enters the room. Zander, Glock in one hand, rope in the other.

“Where’s Lizzie?” The question spills from my lips before I have time to think.

Zan laughs, but it has no humour. “She’s safe.”

“Theodore too busy to deal with his dirty work?” I can’t bring myself to call him ‘Bear.’ Rubbing my fingers on my forehead, I try to relieve some tension, but it has no effect. Until she’s out of here, nothing will ease it.

He walks further in, crouches down in front of me, and tosses the gun between his hands. To my surprise he flicks on the safety and places it on the floor, followed by the rope. “Bear’s busy.”

My gaze goes straight to the weapon on the floor and back to Zander. “Have you been with her since she left?”

“We haven’t got time for this, but yes, I have. I can’t tell you why or how.” His lips widen into a broad grin. “And I know you’re thinking of picking up the gun and killing me.”

“You know me well.”

“No, Noah. I don’t think I know you at all. But what I do know is you are going to let me tie your hands behind your back and then you’re going to let me take you out into the arena.”

I eye the gun again. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because, for all you said out there, I know the woman locked up in the dorms means everything to you. You won’t leave here until every last one of the guys who hurt her is dead.” He rubs his hands down his thighs. “I also know you won’t be able to help her from in here.”

I meet his gaze. There’s no point pretending he’s wrong. “I thought you said you didn’t know me?”

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Noah. The man you are now isn’t the one I last drank with.” He stands up, leaving the items on the ground. “So you have a choice to make. What’s it going to be?”

Again, my mind processes my chances of success. Taking Zander down now would seem like the best option, or is it?