Chapter 227 Pretty Boy’s Escape
Zarina rounded the corner at a sprint, breath ragged, eyes wild with panic as she burst into the hallway where Mia and Knight waited. “W-where is she?” she demanded, voice cracking.
Her gaze locked onto Mia first, shoulder heavily bandaged in a sling, face pale and drawn. Zarina rushed forward without hesitation, hands trembling as she reached for her friend, searching her body for any sign of worse injury.
“W-where is my wife?” The words came out choked, desperate. When no immediate answer came, fresh tears spilled down Zarina’s cheeks, hot and unstoppable. “Please… no, no, tell me it’s not true,” she sobbed, voice breaking into fragments. “Please, I can’t lose her.”
Mia opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. her throat too tight, her own grief too raw. Zarina pulled away, staggering toward Knight, who leaned heavily against the wall opposite the surgery doors, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.
She grabbed his shirt with shaking hands. “Please, Knight,” she begged, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me. How is she? Please… please…”
He said nothing, just stared down at her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
Then the doors swung open.
The surgeon stepped out, mask pulled down, face grim under the harsh fluorescent lights. Everyone surged forward in a single breath, Zarina, Mia, Knight all eyes fixed on him.
He shook his head slowly, the motion small but devastating.
“I’m sorry…” he began.
Zarina heard nothing else.
Her heart plummeted into a black, endless pit.
The world tilted, sound warping into a distant roar.
She didn’t scream.
She simply folded, knees buckling, body crumpling like paper as the grief swallowed her whole.
The basement reeked of damp concrete, sweat, and blood.
Skin met skin in brutal rhythm, fists thudding into flesh with wet, meaty smacks that echoed off the low ceiling.
Jaden’s head snapped back from the latest punch, blood spraying from his split lip in a bright arc. The two thugs circled him like starving dogs, laughing low and ugly, knuckles already raw and split.
“Look at pretty boy,” the bigger one sneered, wiping sweat from his brow with a filthy sleeve. “All that dancer grace, and now you’re just a rag doll. Bet those fine lips of yours would feel real good wrapped around my cock, huh? We could have some fun before the boss says lights out.”
The smaller one cackled, driving a sharp jab into Jaden’s ribs that forced the air from his lungs in a pained gasp. “Yeah, open wide, ballerina. Bet you’re flexible enough to make it interesting.”
Jaden hung from the ropes binding his wrists to the overhead beam, body swaying gently, every breath a firestorm in his chest. But he lifted his head anyway, blood dripping steadily from his chin, and laughed—hoarse, defiant, the sound scraping out of his ruined throat.
“You two must be desperate,” he rasped, spitting a thick glob of clotted blood onto the concrete at their feet. “Can’t get it up unless it’s with a tied-up kid? Pathetic. Bet your moms are real proud, raising a pair of closet fags who only feel big when they’re double-teaming someone who can’t fight back. What, you jerk each other off in the mirror afterward, telling yourselves you’re real men? Everyone knows you’re just Keenan’s little bitches on your knees for him every night, begging for scraps.”
The bigger one’s face flushed purple, veins bulging in his neck like cords. The smaller one froze, eyes wide with humiliated rage.
Jaden spat again, grinning through swollen lips. “Go on. Hit me again. Prove how straight you are while you’re hard just looking at me.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, you little shit.”
The big one swung again, but Jaden twisted at the last second, taking the blow on the shoulder instead. Above him, his good fingers worked frantically at the knots—slow, steady, the ropes loosening inch by precious inch while they were distracted by their own fury.
The smaller one snatched the rusty bowl of filthy water they’d been dunking his head in earlier and splashed it across Jaden’s face in a cold, stinging wave. “How’s that feel, pretty boy? Ready to beg yet?”
Jaden shook the water from his eyes, grinning through the burn. “Better than your breath. Smells like you’ve been sucking dick for breakfast.”
That did it.
The big one snarled, yanking a Glock from his waistband. “Enough of this shit. Boss said make it slow, but I’m done playing.”
He pressed the cold muzzle to Jaden’s temple, finger hovering on the trigger.
Jaden’s heart slammed against his ribs, but he didn’t flinch. “Wait,” he said quickly, voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring through him. “You really gonna kill me without knowing what I know? About Genesis. About where she goes. What she does when Knight’s not around.”
The man hesitated, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jaden leaned in as far as the ropes allowed, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She meets me. Still. Secret spots. I could tell you…”
The smaller one barked a laugh. “He’s stalling, man. Just pop him.”
But the big one lowered the gun slightly, curiosity overriding rage. “Where? Spill it, or I blow your knee first.”
Jaden’s fingers finally worked the last knot free. The ropes slackened.
“Closer,” he murmured. “Don’t want your buddy hearing. It’s good.”
The big one leaned in—stupidly, fatally.
Jaden exploded into motion. He snapped his head forward, smashing his forehead into the man’s nose with a sickening crack of bone. Blood sprayed. The thug howled, staggering back, hands flying to his ruined face.
In the same breath, Jaden dropped low, snatching the rusty water bowl from the floor and swinging it like a club. It connected with the smaller one’s temple in a dull, wet thud. The man crumpled, dazed.
Jaden bolted.
He sprinted for the stairs, shoulder slamming into the doorframe as he burst through. A gunshot cracked behind him—grazing his shoulder, fire exploding down his arm. He stumbled but didn’t stop, blood soaking his shirt as he tore up the narrow staircase, through a dimly lit hallway, and out a side door into the night.
Alarms blared. Shouts erupted behind him. More boots pounded closer.
Jaden vaulted the chain-link fence at the back of the property, bullets whizzing past—one clipping the metal with a sharp ping. He hit the ground hard, rolling into the shadows of the neighboring yard.
Another fence loomed ahead—wooden, taller. He scrambled over it, ignoring the scream of pain from his wounded shoulder, landing in a crouch in someone’s driveway.
A car sat there, driver’s door ajar, keys glinting faintly in the ignition. Headlights off, but the interior light glowed softly—someone had stepped out to load groceries or something.
Footsteps thundered closer. Voices shouted.
Jaden dove into the back seat, curling low behind the driver’s side, yanking a blanket from the floor over himself just as the owner—a young woman in her early twenties, ponytail and yoga pants—slid into the front seat, completely oblivious.
The door slammed shut.
The engine rumbled to life.
Jaden held his breath, blood dripping steadily onto the seat beneath the blanket, heart hammering as the car pulled away from the curb, carrying him straight into the night.
She slammed the door, started the engine, and pulled out.
They drove for what felt like eternity, maybe five minutes, maybe ten before Jaden risked it.
The car hummed along a quiet street.
“Please don’t scream,” he whispered from the back.
The woman yelped, swerving slightly, eyes flying to the rearview mirror.
“Oh my God, who are you? Get out!”
“Stop the car and I’ll….”
“No! Please!” Jaden sat up halfway, wincing, bloodied hand raised in surrender. “I’m hurt. They’re after me. Just drive. Please. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
She glanced back, face pale, knuckles white on the wheel. “You’re bleeding. What the hell…”
“Drive to 47 Evergreen Lane,” he said quickly, voice strained. “It’s safe there. Drop me and go. Please. I’m begging you.”
She hesitated, tears pricking her eyes, but didn’t stop.
“47 Evergreen,” she repeated shakily. “If you try anything…”
“I won’t. Just get me there.”
The car sped on, city lights blurring past.
Jaden slumped back, pressing his shirt to the wound, vision spotting.
Genesis.
He had to warn her.
Before Keenan came for her too.