Chapter 65 Chapter 65

Chapter 65 Chapter 65
Tito’s POV

I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until the gun barrel jabbed harder against my cheek, cold and metallic, anchoring me back into the basement’s sour darkness.

My hand trembled around the phone they’d shoved into it, Kendrick’s name still lit across the cracked screen.

My voice had broken the moment I screamed his name, and now my throat felt rubbed raw, but I pushed air out anyway, forcing words to form.

“Kendrick… Kendrick, please—”

“Tito,” he said, and the sound of his voice was so steady, so deliberate, that it carved a sharp crack through the panic threatening to swallow me whole. “Calm down. I need you to breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. Tell me where you are.”

“I—I don’t know!” My breath hitched as the guard’s fingers dug into my shoulder, warning me to keep it together. “Kendrick, I don’t know where this place is, I swear. They moved me again, the van didn’t stop for hours, and the basement is— I don’t—”

“It’s okay.” His tone didn’t rise, didn’t waver, didn’t even carry a hint of panic. That alone made something inside me crumble. “You don’t need to know the place. You just need to stay with me. Don’t panic, Tito. I’m right here.”

“Kendrick—” I choked on his name. “I should have listened. You said Jax was dangerous and I thought you were just— I don’t know— I thought you were being dramatic or jealous or— God, Kendrick, I messed up. I’m so sorry—”

“Tito,” he said again, firmer this time, cutting cleanly through my rambling. “Stop apologizing. This isn’t on you. None of this is on you.”

“But—”

“No. Listen to me.” A soft, harsh breath filtered through the speaker, like he’d been running. “You said Jax took you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my knees shaking beneath me as the guard shifted impatiently behind me, his grip unrelenting. “Yes, he— he set me up. He— Kendrick, he sold me. He—” My voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. “He said I’d be bait. For you.”

Silence stretched between us, but not the empty kind—this one vibrated with something heavy, cold, controlled only by sheer force of will.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Kendrick finally said, and he sounded like a man who had already made peace with whatever violence was required to get to me. “You hear me? Thirty minutes.”

“I don’t know the location—”

“I do.”
His answer was immediate, unhesitating. “Just tell Jax to be ready for me.”

A sharp gasp tore out of me. I didn’t know if it was from fear or relief.

“Kendrick,” I whispered, my voice crumbling, “please be careful. I can’t— I can’t lose you too.”

“I’m coming for you,” he replied. “Stay calm. Stay still. Don’t do anything drastic.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, because even if he told me not to apologize, my guilt had its own heartbeat. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Breathe for me. I’ll see you soon.”

And then the line went dead.

Just like that.

The guard snorted derisively, snatched the phone from my shaking fingers, and slipped it into his pocket before stepping out of the basement and slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed me instantly, thick and damp, pressing against my skin like a physical weight.

My breath broke, splintered, and all the fear I’d pushed down during the call surged back in a hot, suffocating wave. I sank to the cold concrete, knees pulling tightly toward my chest, and cried—quiet at first, then louder, sobs shaking through me uncontrollably.

I tried to stop, tried to swallow it, but the more I fought it, the harder the tears came until my throat was raw and my chest burned.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged the storm out of me, leaving only shivers and empty breaths. My heartbeat was slowing when I heard them—footsteps upstairs, heavy and quick, followed by hushed voices. Something in their tone wasn’t normal. It wasn’t routine. It wasn’t controlled.

It was nervous.

A sharp, instinctive dread shot through me.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to no one, because there was no one to answer. The basement seemed to pulse with the vibrations of movement above me. Boots pacing. Furniture shifting. A door slamming. More footsteps. Louder voices. Someone shouting instructions.

Then—
Gunshots.

The first one echoed like a thunderclap overhead, rattling dust loose from the ceiling. I flinched violently, flattening myself instinctively against the wall. Another shot followed. Then another. And then the unmistakable rumble of motorcycles, engines roaring outside like an approaching storm.

My breath seized in my lungs.

The chaos above only grew louder—boots pounding, glass shattering, someone screaming in panic. More gunshots ripped through the air, each one sending a jolt of terror through my spine.

I didn’t know if this was Kendrick.

I didn’t know if this was someone worse.

Before I could decide whether to pray or scream, the basement door burst open with a violent crash. Light flooded the space so suddenly my eyes burned. Two men rushed inside, masks on, guns slung over their shoulders.

“Grab her!” one barked.

I screamed as rough hands clamped around my arms, dragging me forward. My legs barely worked; I stumbled, kicked, twisted, fighting even though I knew it was useless.

They dragged me up the stairs, ignoring my nails clawing at their sleeves, ignoring my hoarse pleas, ignoring everything except their orders.

The house was wrecked—bullet holes in the walls, overturned furniture, shattered glass crunching under their boots. Smoke hung in the air, acrid and choking. The sound of fighting echoed from another room, loud and terrifying.

They shoved me forward, straight through the living room doorway.

And then they pushed me into someone.

I collided chest-first with a body I didn’t recognize—hard, tall, steady—and before I could orient myself, something cold pressed sharply against my throat. A knife. Or a gun. I couldn’t tell. My vision was blurred from the sudden exposure to light.

But when my eyes finally adjusted—just enough to distinguish shapes—

I saw him.

Kendrick.

Standing just a few steps away.

His hands were drenched in blood, smeared up to his wrists. His shirt was torn. His breathing was ragged. He looked like he had clawed his way through hell, and he was still ready to fight hell again if it meant getting to me.

“Kendrick?” My voice came out a trembling whisper.

His gaze snapped to mine instantly. The moment his eyes landed on me, something in him broke open—not dramatically, just in the slight widening of his eyes, the quick parting of his lips, the barely-there shake in his hand.

But he didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because the moment I turned my head, I saw who held me.

Jax.

Wild-eyed, unhinged, his breath hot against my ear as he tightened his grip around me, pressing the barrel harder against my throat. He looked nothing like the boy I used to argue with, the boy who pretended he cared. This version of him had snapped.

Completely.

“Kendrick,” Jax crooned, voice stretching into something twisted, “look what I have.”

“Let her go,” Kendrick said. Not shouted, not begged. Commanded. His voice was low and deadly, vibrating with a barely restrained fury I had never heard from him before.

“You don’t know what I want?” Jax barked out a laugh, manic and sharp. “Really? After everything?”

“Tell me,” Kendrick said. “Say it.”

“You killed him!” Jax screamed, the outburst jarring against my ear. “You killed my brother!”

Kendrick’s jaw tightened. “Your brother was a convicted felon. He raped over twenty women. He died because of what he did, not because of me.”

“LIES!” Jax’s entire body shook behind me, and the gun dug deeper into my skin. “He was the best big brother I ever had. He didn’t deserve to die. But you—” His voice cracked into a sob so warped it sounded almost inhuman. “You took him from me, Kendrick. And now… I’ll take something from you.”

I tensed sharply.

Jax’s grip locked around me like steel.

Kendrick’s stance shifted—barely, just a fraction of an inch—but enough for me to feel the shift in the air.

“Face me,” Kendrick said quietly. “Leave Tito out of this.”

“No,” Jax hissed. “Because you? You can live with pain. You can survive anything. But her?” He jerked me closer until my spine collided with his chest. “She’s the only way to break you.”

“Don’t—” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Please— Jax— don’t—”

He ignored me.

The room felt like it was holding its breath. The air was so tight it hurt to inhale. My heartbeat pounded so violently against my ribs it felt like it might crack bone.

And then, a trigger clicked.

I don’t know whose.

I don’t know which direction the gun was pointed.

I don’t know who moved first.

All I know is that my body reacted before my brain could catch up—my eyes squeezed shut, my breath hitched, and my entire world funneled into the sound that followed.

One deafening gunshot.

And darkness swallowed everything.