Jax lifted them one by one into the basement, and I hefted my body through the opening and dropped to the cold cement. I didn’t like that we were so fucking close to that tunnel. I eyed the door hiding the staircase, and for an insane moment I imagined someone bursting through and dragging me back.

Imagined Alex still down there, chained in their torture room, her flesh taking the brunt force of Brock’s whip.

No. I had to keep my head in the game. Alex was safe, chained to my fucking bed like the temptress she was. The sooner we finished this, the sooner I could get back to her.

Jax headed toward the door leading upstairs, and I tailed him, following his lead as we made our way to the main floor. Early morning sunlight gleamed off the counters in the kitchen. I checked to make sure the gun was still jammed into the waistband of my jeans.

He shot me a worried look. “You sure you can handle this?”

Murdering Lucas Perrone in cold blood? Not really, but I wasn’t about to back down. He’d destroyed too many lives, and I didn’t hold out much hope that law enforcement would dole out justice. He probably had judges in his pocket, in addition to cops.

“You don’t have to watch,” Jax said. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. The fucker deserves to burn.”

A shiver went though me at his tone. He talked about killing his father as if it were a chore we were debating. And I got it, I did. I’d wanted to kill Perrone and his men too, but when faced with the actuality of taking someone’s life…

“Maybe we should try the Feds, someone higher up.”

“He’ll never stop until we’re dead. Even if we get lucky and they put him away, he’s got too many connections. I would’ve run long ago, if I thought I could.”

Standing in Perrone’s kitchen, discussing his impending demise, made me twitchy. I didn’t want his psycho father coming after Alex. In fact, I wouldn’t be satisfied until he couldn’t speak her name.

But killing the bastard…

That only reminded me that I had killed a man—I just didn’t remember it. My mind had blocked it out, buried the memory long before I’d wiped out the whole fucking eight years.

We stepped down a few steps, crossed the humongous living room, and Jax halted at a door. He tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. Stepping back, he kicked below the knob, just like I’d done with the shed, and repeated the blows until the door broke under the onslaught of his boot. He shoved it open and glanced at his watch.