Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland 3)

“There’s an anti-hall just to the left there, but I’m not sure whether we’ll use it because of the staircases and landings around it. It kind of looks like a Victorian prison to be honest.”

There were about three levels to that hall, and each one had a walkway running the perimeter of the room, with wrought iron railings painted white, making it look like Broadmoor. But when we walked in to have a look, Brandon’s eyes grew wide in wonder.

“This is perfect for the fight.” He pointed to the different levels. “The crowd stand up there and everyone gets a ringside seat. The further up you go, the better view you get. I’m having this,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest proudly. “My fighters are gonna love it.”

“Are Callum and Joe still up for it?” Ryan asked, referring to the boxers Brandon had lined up for the night.

“Yep. Got a few other lads that want in too. I’m thinking it’ll be a few matches that night. It’s gonna be a top night.”

Everything was coming together. The boys were happy. The venue was perfect. And I’d passed my second challenge with flying colours and come out the other side smelling of roses growing amongst all the shit.

Or so I thought.

The other three wandered off to check out the rest of the factory, but when my phone started to buzz and I saw why, I stayed back. The nerves kicked in again and my stomach turned over as I opened the message.

Challenge time, Mr Knowles. Are you ready?

A close friend of ours, Joe Hazel, is signed up to fight at your little party. Your next challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to get your man, Brandon, to fight against him.

No Brandon.

No deal.

And your little secret goes viral.

Now, you may be asking yourself, why not bite the bullet? Call our bluff and see if we have the guts to go through with it? I suggest you don’t do that. I’m sending you a little video that might help to persuade you on this. If we get confirmation of Brandon fighting by midnight on Friday then you’re safe. Nothing, and we will fucking destroy your life.

I was shaking so badly it was difficult to tap my screen and see what they’d sent. When I clicked it open, I almost lost it completely. I felt the bottom fall out of my world.

There was video footage of me that I knew had been taken today because I was wearing the exact same clothes. That, and I was coming out of Effy’s front door. I gripped my mobile in my sweaty hand as I watched her close the front door, and saw myself walk away down the street. But whoever was recording didn’t walk away, they started walking forwards, down her driveway, up the side of her house, and then they were videoing her through the window. I watched them watching her making herself a cup of coffee. After a few seconds of watching and feeling like I was dying inside, I saw the camera pan down to the door handle leading into her kitchen, and a gloved hand pushed it down and the door opened. The video stopped, and so did my fucking heart. They’d got to Effy, and whoever was videoing her had broken into her fucking house.

I didn’t bother to read their next message. Frantically, I scrolled to her number and felt every beat of my heart thumping against my chest as the dial tone sounded in my ear.

“Hey, Finn. Are you missing me already?” She sounded so playful, but it did nothing to calm my raging mind. There would be no relief, not until I knew she was safe.

“Where are you?” I snapped a little too harshly.

“I’m at home. Why? What’s happened?” Instantly, her playfulness had gone and in its place was suspicion.

“Is there anyone with you?”

Please tell me you’re safe. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.

“Mum and Dad just came home with a Chinese takeaway. What the hell is going on?”

“So you’re safe? Your dad’s there?”

“Yes, but now I’m worried sick about you. Are you okay?” I wasn’t. I was a nervous, erratic mess and I couldn’t even think straight let alone form words that made sense.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Listen, I need you to go to your back door. The one opposite the island in your kitchen and lock the bloody thing.” It was on the tip of my tongue to have a go at her over that fact that it was ever open in the first place.

“Okay. Wait. How do you know where my back door is? You’ve never been in my kitchen. And how do you know it’s open?”

“Jesus, Effy. I don’t have time for this. Just do it. Please.”

I heard her breathing down the line as she walked from wherever she was to the kitchen and then she said, “Done. I’ve locked it.”

“Do you always leave the back door open?” My resolve to not accuse her of shit had broken pretty fucking quickly. I knew she lived in a nicer part of Sandland, but who the fuck leaves their doors unlocked in this day and age?