Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

“You’d do well to remember your manners, girl. Speak to me like that again and I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Pat? Show her who’s boss?” I wrapped my arm around Harper’s waist and pulled her into me. Then I leant over her shoulder, sneering into his face. “You even so much as breathe near her and I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

Harper chuckled in my grasp and put her hand over mine.

“And if you go near him again, I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

Fuck me.

Hearing her threaten him was the biggest turn-on.

I watched him snarl at us, then back off, sliding out of the room and away from the chaos like the vermin he was. Good riddance. For a second, I gave in to my desire and buried my face in her neck, inhaling her. Then, I snapped back to reality and the war around us. There wasn’t time to waste. I needed to get her out of here. I didn’t want her in this room surrounded by so much hate. I was finally done with this shit show.

We pushed through the crowds and headed back to the changing room to get my stuff. With each step, I felt my shoulders lightened, and I started to walk taller. I’d done the right thing. I knew that. I’d taken Lockwood down and put Pat in his place too. There was a twinge of guilt at leaving the lads behind to finish the fight without me, but that soon evaporated when I spotted Ryan, Zak, and Finn hurtling down the corridor towards us.

“That was mental.” Ryan slapped me on the back, laughing in his adrenaline high.

“Where’s Em?” I glanced around him, but she wasn’t there.

“I made her leave with Kian. He’s parked out front. He’ll get her home safe. She doesn’t need to see this next part.”

Harper narrowed her eyes at me. “What next part?”

I’d kept her in the dark enough lately, so I spent the next few minutes filling her in on what’d happened with the text messages and the link to Don Lockwood. I also told her I needed to end this, once and for all. I was going to face Don Lockwood and find out exactly what his game was. Harper insisted on coming too. As if I could ever deny my little warrior what she wanted. If she was determined to stand by my side, I’d let her. He’d threatened her in that text message. He needed to see we were indestructible. No one came between Harper and me. No one ever would.

I sat with Harper in her little car as she drove us over to the Lockwoods. We didn’t even attempt to make small talk; we didn’t need to. I was too wound up, and she understood that I needed the space and time to think. She always got me.

I didn’t know why the fuck Lockwood was sending us texts. He’d distanced himself so far away from the scandal we’d uncovered months ago that he may as well have been on fucking Mars. He also knew we were like a dog with a fricking bone when it came to shit like this. So, why was he suddenly being so sloppy? Did he think we wouldn’t find him? Or that we’d shy away from calling him out on his bullshit?

Everyone knew what we were like. We didn’t stay quiet, ever. Maybe he was losing touch in his old age. Or he simply thought he was untouchable. Too bad we were on our way to show him how wrong he was.

Ryan, Zak, and Finn were following us in Zak’s car and when we turned into the road, the house was lit up like a bloody Christmas tree, as if he was bragging about his self-importance to us before we’d even got out of the car.

“Are you sure about this?” Harper turned to ask me as I reached for the door handle.

I squeezed her knee to reassure her and she smiled in unspoken agreement. I’d never been surer of anything in my life. The Lockwoods needed taking down a peg or two, and none so more than Daddy dearest.

“I need this to be fucking over. No one threatens you like that.” She tensed at my aggressive retort, so I reached out to take her hand in mine and brushed my thumb over her knuckles. “Don’t worry, little warrior. I’m on a winning streak tonight. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Brandon. It’s you. You’ve just gone through all that with Jensen. You don’t need this. Not tonight.”

“It has to happen tonight, babe. I’m not going another minute with these Lockwood fuckers thinking they can get one over on us. It isn’t happening anymore.”

“I know. I get it.”

We both got out of the car. I could see she was reluctant. Like a heavy weight was draped over her shoulders and she was trying to fight it off, but I was locked and loaded. The fire of adrenaline pumping through my body helped with that. No one was going to stand in my way.

The lads parked up behind us and they got out, coming to stand by my side as whole conversations and confirmations of our brotherhood passed between us in the silence. They were here to support me, stand by me, and have my fucking back. Hurt one and you hurt all, it’d always been this way, ever since the days when they’d picked me up after a shitty day at school. They were my soldiers, we were an army, and woe betide anyone who stood in our way.

We walked as a unit towards the house and then up to the imposing double front doors that were flanked by the ridiculously pompous topiary and extravagant wall lights that illuminated the front of the house. The Lockwoods had always been about the façade. All show and no substance to back it up. They liked to project an ideal to the rest of the world, one they thought they fooled everyone with, but they didn’t. Not us, anyway. They might look like the real deal, but they were shady fuckers with zero morals.

We faced the doors in an unbreakable, impenetrable line as I rang the doorbell. Harper to my left, Ryan to my right. Finn and Zak were on either side of us. We were the dog’s bollocks, and when he opened the door, he’d get a load of exactly how fucking formidable we were.

Harper threaded her arm through mine as we waited for them to open up. I looked down at her and winked. I wanted her to know I was in control, or at least for her to think I was. To be honest, it could go either way. I still felt unhinged after the fight, and my adrenaline was through the roof. I was more than ready for another throw down.

When the door swung open, we saw Karen Lockwood standing there, gawping at us like we’d come down on the last spaceship. Her make-up was plastered thickly on her face and her eyebrows were so far up into her fringe that she looked permanently startled. Add in the fact that her blonde hair was pulled back into a harsh ponytail and she fitted the plastic trophy wife to a tee. Guessing her age would be like playing a carnival game; impossible to get right. She batted her spider-like eyelashes at us and smiled. But we weren’t here to play nice, so I cut right to the chase.