10. Grace

Chapter ten

Grace

" W ho the hell are you?!" I exclaimed, staring at the man kneeling at the foot of my bed. He stood up, and holy god was he enormous, just as tall as the mean guy who'd yelled at me to eat a chocolate bar, but maybe twice as broad. But while the chocolate bar guy had been cold and mean, this one just looked… desperate? His dark hair was buzzed short, like he'd recently shaved his head and it was just starting to grow back. A patchwork of scars mottled his face, carving through his eyebrow, cutting over the bridge of his nose, and leaving a rippled effect along his jaw. I could see more on his arms where his sleeves ended. He looked… broken—as broken as I felt. He was probably the largest and scariest-looking of all my kidnappers, but somehow, I could just tell he wouldn't hurt me. Something about the way he was watching me, like he felt small, even though he was three times my size. He reminded me of a pitbull rescued from a dog-fighting ring, all muscles and scars and big, sad eyes.

But, I was the prisoner here, and I was fucking sick of men—even the sad, broken ones with puppy dog eyes—sneaking into the room I was trapped in. I stood up on the bed so I was at least a little taller than him, giving myself the confidence to stare him in the eye. This was it, this was my last fucking straw. I couldn't take this bullshit anymore.

"Tell me who you are," I demanded, pushing more of my light toward him. The whole room was saturated in it now, and the man swayed unsteadily, his eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

"I'm Levy," he murmured, surprise painting his face, his jaw dropping open in awe as he stared at me. I was gripping the waistband of the sweats they'd left for me, trying to keep them from falling down to my ankles. My back was pressed against the wall in case he tried to grab me as I eyed him warily.

"How long have you been in the room?" I asked, and my eyes widened in horror. "Were you watching me in the shower?" He flinched and shook his head quickly, beginning to flicker in and out of focus, like his body was losing the ability to stay in sight. The door burst open just as he winked out of view, and I turned my attention to the three visible men standing in the doorway.

My eyes focused on Erik King, the only one of the trio whose name I actually knew. I unleashed the full force of my light, flooding the room with it. The Ghost blinked back into view, and I watched as they all relaxed under my gaze, except the mean one, who's eyes widened in panic. "There, are you happy now?" I demanded. "I'm clearly not the monster you were hoping for, so either kill me or let me go, because I'm sick of this shit!" I stomped my foot, but the effect was somewhat diminished because I was standing on a soft mattress.

The blond surfer nudged Erik and signed something to him. Erik answered, and the men had a silent conversation, well, the three of them did. The Ghost was staring at me like I was the second coming of Christ himself, and I almost forgot to be mad at him for creeping in here all invisible.

"Can you come down from there?" Erik asked out loud, startling me and drawing my attention back to him. "We could go upstairs, maybe have some lunch, and talk like normal people. Does that sound okay?" I nodded slowly, reeling back in my light. The Ghost made a soft noise as he winked out of view, and I glanced at where he'd been standing, feeling uneasy knowing he was there, just… hidden now.

I stepped toward the edge of the bed and climbed down, gripping my pants so they wouldn't slide down my hips. "I can get you some better clothes. Ones that fit, and uh, cover everything." He smirked, and I glanced down, remembering that my nipples were visible through the shirt. I cringed and covered myself as best I could with one hand, keeping a firm hold on my waistband with the other. Surfer Boy smiled and tugged off his own shirt, holding it out to me. I must have been bright red with how my cheeks heated up. Of course, he had abs. God was really giving with both hands when he made this one. I pulled on the shirt awkwardly, only using one hand at a time so I could keep my pants on. The Mean One left first, and Erik followed behind, gesturing for me to join. Surfer Boy stayed at my side as we walked up a long set of stairs and emerged in what I could only describe as a mini-mansion.

Everything looked modern and sleek, all dark hardwood and stainless steel. There was not a hint of kitsch, no splashes of color, or family photos on the walls. Nothing that might've revealed more about the men surrounding me. Erik led us through the kitchen and into a beautiful—if somewhat formal—dining room, where the mean one was already sitting at the far end of the table. He radiated a calm, dangerous energy that made me distinctly nervous. Someone brushed my arm, and I turned to see only empty space next to me. The chair in front of me suddenly pulled away from the table, making me jump. Mean Guy snorted and rolled his eyes, and I clenched my fists, sitting down in the chair and watching the others take a seat as well.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot." Erik smiled, signing as he spoke.

"Yeah? No shit," I replied, feeling braver than I was. Maybe all of this had finally caused me to lose my mind. Erik's eyebrows shot up. "You kidnapped me! You locked me in a basement!" I snapped, and he had the good sense to look sheepish, at least.

"This was the nicest kidnapping you could've hoped for," Mean Guy replied sharply, and Erik shot him a look.

"Okay, all of that aside, let's try this again. I'm Erik King, it's very nice to meet you, Grace Harding." He grinned magnanimously, as if we were at a dinner party and not the world's most awkward lunch.

"We've met before," I said blandly, and Erik cringed, while the Mean One barked out a laugh.

"Right, well, nice to meet you officially, then?" He smirked. "Chuckles over there is Anders, this is Jesse, and the ghost is Levy." I looked at each of them in turn as he introduced them all. Jesse waved and signed at me, and Anders just rolled his eyes.

"Great. Now that I know all of your names, can you please tell me if you'll be killing me, or ransoming me, or whatever it is you plan to do?" I asked, and Erik's smile faltered, his eyes darkening. For the first time, he looked genuinely angry. He opened his mouth to respond but Anders beat him to it, a sharp glint in his eyes.

"Why would we kill you?" Anders asked curiously, leaning forward. I glanced at him and shrugged, my eyes dropping to the shiny hardwood table.

"To make a point? To piss off Douglas? How should I know?" I muttered, clenching my hands in my lap until my knuckles went white.

"We're not going to kill you," Erik replied coolly, apparently offended that I would assume that of him. Kidnappers with a moral conscience seemed a bit counterintuitive to me.

"Well, what then?" I bit out, glancing around the table. "Why am I here?" No one seemed to have an answer for that, and a shiver of trepidation crept up my spine. If they didn't have a plan, what did that mean for me?

"What happened to your legs?" a disembodied voice asked near my arm, and I flinched away from it, startled. "The bruises," Levy clarified.

"I don't know, I think it happened the other night, but I don't remember much." I frowned, smoothing down the sweatpants over my legs where the bruises were. I wished I could say that mystery bruises were a new phenomenon for me, but that wasn't the kind of life I had.

"They slipped you something at the club, you were nearly passed out when Sergio brought you to the car," Anders offered, and I blanched. Why would they have drugged me? Douglas didn't bother with that, he liked his victims awake and suffering.

"What car? Sergio put me in a car?" I asked, trying to remember. A vision flashed through my mind of that pig of a man with his arm wrapped around me, throwing me into the back of a white SUV.

The white SUV, the cream seats. Sergio's hands forcing their way between my thighs.

I exhaled a slow, shuddering breath as I dug my nails into my palm, trying to think, trying to remember if he'd… if I'd been…

"You weren't raped," Anders announced, and I turned to him. His eyes were focused on a point on the ceiling, fingers drumming on the arms of the chair. "I would know if you'd been bleeding down there, from tearing or anything."

He said it so matter-of-factly, so coldly, I couldn't help but gape at him. Who could be so fucking callous about something like that?

"What the fuck, did you undress me or something?" I demanded, and Anders shot me an incredulous look.

"No, why would I? I've seen a naked woman before, you aren't anything new," he replied, and I flushed scarlet, my nails digging into my palms as I clenched my hands under the table.

"Anders, remember how we talked about dialing down the asshole?" Erik snapped, and Anders rolled his eyes.

"Sorry." Anders sighed as if I was testing his patience. "I sense blood and I can control it. I checked after the car accident to see if you had any internal injuries, and you did not. Also, Sergio died with his dick in his pants, so from that, I can draw the conclusion that you were not ra-" Erik cleared his throat, and Anders grumbled. "That your person was not violated in a sexually penetrative manner. Happy, bossman sir ?" he snapped, his eyes darting to Erik's briefly before dropping to the table.

"Sergio's dead?" I asked softly. Doug would be furious, and he would no doubt blame me for this. I clenched my hands together so tightly my wrists twinged, pinching my palm until my nails finally bit through the skin.

"Why did you do that?" Anders demanded suddenly, standing up and shoving his chair out of the way. I blinked in confusion as he rounded the table, approaching me like a thundercloud looming on the horizon. His fingers locked around my wrist before I could jerk away, holding it up to see the tiny half-moon cuts in my palm.

"It was an accident?" I mumbled, trying to pull my hand back. He didn't let go, his finger drawing across the marks, his touch feather-light for all the hardness in his features.

"Hmm," was all he said in response, dropping my wrist abruptly and stalking out of the room.

"Sorry, he's… an acquired taste," Erik muttered, glowering at Anders's retreating back. "To answer your question, yes, Sergio is dead." He smirked. "No big loss for the world, if you ask me." I nodded, tucking my hands back into my lap.

Jesse signed something, and Erik nodded quickly before turning back to me. "Based on our intel, we're pretty sure your brother traded you to Sergio as payment for something. We think they were planning to make a move on a rival gang. I'm not sure what Sergio's death will mean for that."

My stomach churned. I thought Douglas would never stoop so low as to sell me to someone—he barely let anyone near me—but it all added up, and I was sure the soured deal would mean my head.

"So, why am I here exactly?" I asked again, my false bravado quickly fading as I took stock of my situation. No matter how I looked at it, I was fucked.

"Well, here's the thing. We thought, well…" Erik rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"We thought you were some all-powerful witch who could help us win this power grab," Anders finished for him, returning with a single piece of plain toast. He set it on a plate in front of me and sat down at the end of the table, cocking an eyebrow at me. "For your stomach," he explained, and I blinked in surprise. Picking it up, I took a small bite, chewing slowly as I thought about what he'd said.

"So you believed the rumors then?" I replied grimly, Erik signing my response. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you." I sighed, setting the toast down. "Douglas is the big bad monster, I'm just…"

"A little kitten." Anders smirked, and I glared at him, shoving the toast away from me. An image of a little gray kitten biting into Anders neck flashed through my mind, making me smile. I glanced up at Jesse and he winked, his blue piercings sparkling in the light.

"If I'm no use to you, can I just go then?" I asked softly, looking back over at Erik. He signed my question, and Jesse signed back quickly, Anders adding to the silent conversation as well. The lightest bit of pressure touched my shoulder, and I winced, looking up at the empty space next to me.

"Do you mind?" a low voice asked, and my brow furrowed.

"Oh, you mean this?" I clarified, sending a bit of light toward him. Levy squeezed my shoulder and groaned softly, flickering into view. Everyone stopped signing to look at him, and Anders, in particular, seemed openly curious.

"You can turn it on and off, just like that?" Levy breathed, and I nodded, very aware that his hand hadn't left my shoulder.

"I… I have to really focus to turn it off. My father didn't like it. It affects normal people a lot worse," I explained, and his thumb stroked my shoulder gently. I didn't even think he realized he was doing it.

"Now that is interesting," Anders mused, and his eyes glittered with a curiosity that made me distinctly nervous. Levy pulled his hand away from me, shifting back behind my chair. "I want to keep her," Anders announced, staring right at me, a small smirk on his face.