Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
And Magnus depended on his—which meant I knew where he was headed.
When we entered the building, I peeled away from the others and headed toward the eastern corridor. Not because I knew where Magnus was, but because I had figured out where Magnus thought he was going.
The hallway stretched long and dark ahead of me, and I heard footsteps. They were measured, like he was trying very hard not to sound hurried. A grim smile touched my mouth.
Got you, motherfucker.
I rounded the corner just as Magnus stepped through the emergency access doorway carrying a hard-sided archival case. He stopped cold when he spotted me ahead of him. Genuine fear flashed across his face. And recognition.
Yeah, the bastard knew exactly who I was. And he understood why I stood there.
The case slipped from his fingers and hit the floor.
For several seconds, neither of us moved, and then he actually sighed. Like this was an inconvenience. “Detective work is remarkably inefficient compared to proper scholarship.”
I just stared at him.
“You don’t understand what you’re interrupting.”
“No,” I replied calmly. “I understand it perfectly.”
His gaze sharpened. “My work preserves continuity.”
“My woman isn’t your work.” The words landed harder than I’d intended, probably because they were true.
Magnus opened his mouth and tried explaining again. Justifying, framing murder as reverence.
The entire time he spoke, I watched him carefully because the truly dangerous thing about Magnus was that he believed every word. He genuinely thought he was preserving something beautiful. That if people could simply understand his vision, they’d see the logic. The righteousness. And that made him far more dangerous than a man motivated by greed.
Because zealots never thought of themselves as monsters.
When Kane and the others arrived, Magnus didn’t fight, and the bindings went on quickly.
As Axle opened the SUV, Magnus looked at me one last time.
“You truly don’t understand.”
I grabbed the front of his coat, just enough to make certain he listened.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You mistook women for objects.” The words came out flat and cold. “And that mistake ends tonight.”
Then I shoved him into the vehicle.
The sun had already slipped low beneath the horizon, casting shadows across the parking lot at The Pit by the time we finally pulled back in from Washington, DC. The drive home had been long and exhausting, but none of us were willing to risk pushing through the night after the events of the day. Fatigue made men careless, and that wasn’t tolerated in our world. Especially not now, with Magnus restrained in the back of Axle’s SUV.
The garage was mostly quiet as we arrived, the familiar sight of The Pit grounding me as I climbed off my bike and stretched my weary muscles. Axle parked near the entrance to the underbelly, his expression unreadable through the windshield, though the tension was evident in the jerkiness of his movements.
Magnus didn’t speak or resist as we removed him from the SUV and guided him toward the hidden entrance. Instead, his eyes darted calmly, curiously even, across the surroundings, as if he was cataloging every detail and committing it to memory.
Nobody looking at it would ever suspect what existed two floors beneath The Pit. The hidden underbelly swallowed sound, light, and secrets equally well. With reinforced concrete walls, industrial-grade steel doors, and tiled floors meant for efficient cleanup, it was designed for containment and interrogation.
There was an open area near the entry, furnished simply with a couple of tables, chairs, and a counter complete with a sink for quick cleaning and disposal. Two bathrooms stood ready, equipped with showers and cabinets stocked with clean sweats and essentials in case our clothes were too damaged from our activities to wear. And beyond those rooms lay the cells and a separate, well-stocked room that held tools we hoped we’d rarely need but kept nonetheless for moments like this.
Magnus was secured in one of the holding rooms, where Edge and Gauge took their time extracting the information we wanted. They moved methodically, balancing intimidation and just enough pain to keep Magnus forthcoming without tipping him over the edge into lies or hysteria. They asked detailed questions, verifying and cross-referencing every piece of information he provided—locations of hidden victims, burial and disposal confirmations, and storage sites. Every answer was documented and then immediately forwarded to Jax and Apex for further verification.
Throughout the process, I stayed near the edge of the room, observing silently, my arms folded firmly across my chest as I waited for the final piece of intel that would finally make Magnus expendable. My presence was tightly controlled, yet every muscle ached with a deadly anticipation, readiness simmering just beneath the surface. I was ready for the moment when justice could finally be delivered.
Eventually, after every loose end was thoroughly confirmed, Magnus Kinghorn became unnecessary. At that moment, Edge stepped back, casting a meaningful glance in my direction. I didn’t say a word—I didn’t need to. Instead, I moved forward calmly, approaching my target slowly enough that he could feel each measured step, until I stood directly in front of him, forcing him to look into my eyes.