Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Cinna

I didn’t know what was in the needle, or how they were so accurate with their administration of it, but the shit was heavy, making it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open in under a moment.

Then, well, then it was all inky blackness.

Consciousness came back to me in bits and pieces. Snatches of garbled conversation. The feeling of something cold and hard against my face and side. My own erratic heartbeat, speeding up and slowing down, then speeding up again.

My eyes felt too heavy to lift my lids, and I didn’t fight it for a long time, some part of me pulled to the darkness, to the peace in the unconsciousness.

It wasn’t until someone kicked at my foot hard, sending a jolt of shock, but no pain, through my system, that I seemed to start to clear the haze of that abyss.

“It’s no fun to play with her when she’s unconscious,” I heard a voice say. “How much of that shit did you shoot her with?” he grumbled, giving my foot another kick.

“You didn’t see her in that warehouse,” the other voice said, familiar, but my brain was too soupy to place it. “She took down all three of us. Believe me, you want her ass drugged.”

“Not this much,” the other guy grumbled, and I was aware of him moving around me, then bending down to slap my cheeks.

I couldn’t say if it was the lingering effects of the drugs, or my own grim determination that kept me from flinching, but he got no reaction, then moved away from me, bored.

Left alone, my face pressed against something cold and gritty that I decided must be a warehouse or basement floor, I forced my breathing to stay slow and deep even as panic—new, but getting alarmingly familiar—started to build.

But as long as they thought I was unconscious, I wasn’t being beaten or assaulted. So I needed to milk this as long as I could.

I had no idea how much time I’d lost already, but I kind of hoped it was an hour or so. Long enough for that Lip kid to maybe call the cops. Or for someone to miss me.

We did have that important meeting at Renzo’s today at some point, and my absence would be noticed. If by no one else, then by Dav.

Good, caring Dav who wanted nothing but to help me, and I kept fucking pushing him away at every turn. If I had waited for him to hit the streets today, maybe none of this would have happened.

That mindset wasn’t going to help anything right now, though.

I just had to hope he would think it was weird when I didn’t show at the meeting, and would start looking around for me.

Though, what were the chances he would get to me before the bad shit started happening?

I couldn’t rely on him.

I had to focus.

Stay calm.

And try to get myself out of this.

I’d done it once before.

The difference now was I had some time to think, to plot, to listen to my attackers and learn from them.

There was constant chattering from what seemed like far away, muffled voices of two or maybe three men. Men I had to assume were armed.

Then were the two closer voices I heard.

At least one of them rang familiar. The ringleader from the warehouse attack. The one whose words dripped with malice.

Look at the mighty Cinna now.

I had to imagine the other two were present as well, ready to enact revenge for the throat punch and ball kicking.

Given the brutality they’d forced on me before with no provocation, aside from being a woman and existing, then I knew it was going to be bad the moment they knew they could get a reaction out of me.

Pretending to be unconscious would only last so long. Even the best drugs only stayed in your system for a while, and slowly lost effectiveness before they were gone.

I wondered if groggy would be enough reason to leave me alone for a while.

“She’s still unconscious?” a woman’s voice called, mingling with the click of chunky heels on the floor, stopping right in front of me.

If I wasn’t so outnumbered and out-weaponed, I could reach out, grab her ankles, and yank her onto the ground. With luck, her head would whack off the floor, and she would be one less person I had to worry about.

But I would have men on me in seconds if I tried. And as confident as I was about my abilities, I knew there was no way I was staving off that many men. Especially if they were armed.

So I kept playing asleep.

“How much did you give her, Brett?” the woman asked.

This had to be the Miller widow.

I had a vague memory of her. Short blonde hair, light eyes, a permanently pinched, unhappy expression, and a skinny frame.

Funnily enough, her husband John, was similarly tall, skinny, and always kind of looked like he’d smelled something bad.

It was like when people started to resemble their dogs. Except with spouses.

If we were being technical, I hadn’t been the one who’d wanted him dead in the first place. There’d been a turf war between the Millers and the Strand brothers. The Strands, being loyal to me, and offering the better kick-up, had been granted the offer to handle their turf war by any means necessary. Which meant the death of John Miller.

It wasn’t personal.

It was the life.

Something John, and his wife, knew when they’d decided to try to push the brothers out. But, clearly, the widow was now taking it personally.

If there was one thing I’d learned working in this world, it was that when women let power go to their heads, when they let it chisel out any goodness in their hearts, they were ten times as cruel as any man could be.

I mean you were a whole new kind of evil to be a woman and order men to not only beat—which I could overlook because, hey, I knew the risks I was taking in this life too—but also rape another woman.

Would she stand by and watch as her men tried to do that to me now? That thought made me want to say ‘fuck the consequences’ and take her out now.

“It was a lot,” Brett admitted. “But I didn’t want her waking up in the van or on the way down here. She’s stronger than she looks.”

Down here.

So it was a basement.

Which was the worst of the two. A warehouse meant many exits. Doors and windows. Ways to get away even if you got hurt in the process.

But a basement likely meant no windows, or ones too high to get to, and too small to crawl out of.

That meant there was exactly one exit.

A staircase.

That was likely heavily guarded.

Great.

So the best bet was to take one guy down, get his weapon, and shoot my way out.

Not ideal.

But I would do whatever it took.

“Fuck it, help me drag her to the chair,” Brett demanded, likely facing down the disapproval of his boss, and wanting to get the show on the road.

I forced my body not to cooperate. Dead weight was hard to move, let alone lift, even for two men.

I waited until they had me upright, my head deceptively lolling to the side, before I made my move.

I knew the second my eyes opened, though, that I likely wasn’t going to get away, no matter how hard I punched, or how quickly I moved.

There were too many of them.

By the time Brett wiped the blood off of his lip, the chattering guys from further away rushed over, four men wrestling me onto, then holding me against, a chair as Brett slipped zip ties around my wrists.

At the last possible second, I arched my wrist outward, creating just the smallest bit of space between it and the zip tie, knowing that I could work it looser. It would hurt and get bloody, but I could do it.

My shoulders screamed at the awkward position, but that was the least of my concerns as Brett moved in front of me, a wicked sneer on his lips, and a dark anticipation in his eyes.

“You’ve been difficult to find lately,” he said.

“Then you haven’t been looking very hard,” I shot back. “I mean, that Chet guy found me, of course,” I said, nodding. “But he never made it back to you, did he?”

“Enough,” the Miller widow snapped, walking forward to backhand me across the face, her face all splotchy with her anger.

“Pegged you for a woman who let the men do all their dirty work for them,” I said, staring her down.

“I can handle myself when the situation arises,” she said, voice as tight as her expression. “But the point of leadership is I don’t have to. Something you wouldn’t know anything about. Why don’t you have some fun?” she asked, looking at Brett. “I’ll be over there,” she said, waving toward the other end of the basement.

With that, we all waited for the sounds of her heels to retreat before Brett turned back to me, wicked delight clear in his face.

“While it’s not as fun when you aren’t writhing around underneath me,” Brett started, “I think I can still find a way to enjoy myself for a while.”

I slowly pulled in a breath, telling myself I would do everything in my power not to scream. No matter what he did to me.

At least he wouldn’t be raping me while tied to a chair. And if he valued parts of his anatomy not being bitten off, he’d be smart to keep them away from my mouth.

The first strike came quickly, harder by far than the widow’s, making my lip split, and the taste of blood trickle into my mouth.

“Get her good,” the other idiot cheered as Brett cocked back and swung again.

I focused on my breathing as the hits kept coming, on covering up the way I was working one wrist free by pretending to fight against all of my binds, feeling the plastic strips cut into my wrists and ankles, but none worse than the one I was working on as the skin burned and broke, then bled.

My face felt like a big bruise, and I was worried about the integrity of one of my back teeth, seeing a trip to the dentist in my near future, getting another implant drilled into my jaw.

Problems for another day, though.

“Why don’t you have some fun?” Brett asked the other guy who’d been standing around watching. “Maybe her ribs could use a little attention,” he suggested, moving away to flex his sore knuckles.

I hinged as much to my side as possible, ignoring the objection in my opposite shoulder, trying to protect my ribs, and force him to hit my stomach instead.

I was just about to yank my hand fully free and just… try to grab a weapon to use in a seated position until I could try to break the chair, and free my ankles.

When there was a click.

Then a slam.

Making the men pause as they ordered others to investigate.

Was it just the super?

Or anyone who would care and help?

Not that a normal person stood a chance against these fucks. Especially as they produced guns.

The widow came running back, voice higher, more frantic. As much as she liked to boast about her leadership, she clearly didn’t have the temperament for it.

She moved behind me, pulling out a gun.

The shots rang out, making my breath catch, sure that whatever help might have come was gone.

But there was more cursing from the men, giving me hope.

“Over here!” I called.

“Shut the fuck up,” the widow snarled. “You come over here, and she will take a bullet to her head,” she warned.

There was a moment of eerie silence, making my stomach curl and slosh around ominously.

But then, figures were moving forward.

And there was Dav.

With a gun pressed to his head.

Calm and collected.

But with that blackness in his eyes.

I’d seen glimpses of it before. Many of us who fought side-by-side with him had.

This was different, though. This blanked out everything else, leaving none of that usual lightness on his handsome face that I was used to.

Just the rage.

“This motherfucker killed Nick, Roy, and Eddie,” the man with the gun declared.

“So,” Dav said, voice deceptively light, given the look on his face. “You’re the bitch who made me drive all the way out to Bumfuck, Nowhere Jersey to get rid of a body.”

I tried to get his attention, to show him that I was only partially bound, that if he had a knife, I could get myself free while he distracted everyone for a minute.

“And you’re the one who’s been hiding her from me,” the Miller widow said from behind me.

“I gotta say, it’s a specific kind of evil for a woman to order men to try to rape another woman,” Dav said, repeating my thoughts from before.

He’d been trying to piss them off, I learned, when a second later, the man kicked his knee, and he dramatically fell forward toward me, then pretended he needed to use my chair to get up. When what he actually was doing was sliding his knife under my thigh.

We shared a look for a split second, both silently agreeing that this was it, then he was swinging around toward the man behind him while I yanked my hand free, grabbed the knife, and got to work when the widow was distracted by the chaos Dav was creating.

“I don’t kill women,” Dav said, turning back after shooting out Brett’s knee, something that brought me more pleasure than was probably called for, despite what he’d done to me, and what he’d planned to do to me, if given more time.

I saw Dav start to lift the gun as I shot up off of the chair.

“But I do,” I said, watching the gun sail to me, grabbing it by the muzzle, then sliding my hand to the handle as I turned on the Miller woman whose hand was shaking too hard to get her safety off.

“Must suck to have your reign cut so short, you evil fucking bitch,” I snapped, emptying the rest of the gun into her body, watching as she jolted with each bullet before falling to the ground, blood blooming across her ugly suit.

There was the sound of feet rushing down the stairs then, making me scramble toward the widow’s gun, grabbing it, sliding off the safety, and rushing behind a row of boxes to half hide from their reinforcements.

Until my gaze caught sight of a flash of blue hair.

Blue hair?

Saff?

Even as I thought it, I saw her profile, then her face as she whipped toward me, sensing my presence.

“Thank God,” she said, rushing toward me, making the others turn as well. “Dav?” she asked.

“I… he…” I said, but then we all heard it.

A deep, animalistic cry of pain.

“Uh oh,” Saff said, wincing.

I fell in at Saff’s side as she followed the others through the maze of crap gathered in the basement. Until we passed by the widow’s body, then the chair where I’d been captive and tortured for what felt like forever.

And there, just a few feet away, Dav was straddling Brett’s body.

No more than two feet away was the other one who’d been hitting me, the one from the night when I’d kicked him in the balls.

His head was cracked open like a watermelon, blood, skull, and brain matter scattered like a halo all around him.

My stomach rolled as I glanced away, but I found my gaze landing on an equally horrific sight.

Dav driving his thumbs into Brett’s eye sockets, making his wails fill the whole room as his body jolted like it was being electrocuted.

We all knew Dav had darkness in him, had a side that craved violence, but I’d never seen that side of him so fully unleashed before.

“No! Please!” Brett begged as Dav grabbed both sides of his head, lifting him off of the floor.

“Would you have stopped if she said no?” he asked, then slammed Brett’s head to the ground.

“Christ,” Elian said, gaze sliding away at the sound of another crack. Then another, this one wetter as his skull broke open, as the insides spilled out.

“He’s dead,” Renzo called, starting to move forward, but the second his hand touched Dav’s shoulder, trying to stop him from slamming the head more, a deep, guttural growl escaped Dav.

I’m not exactly proud of this part, but the sound of that sent a jolt of desire through my system.

“Cinna, no,” Renzo said, trying to stop me as I moved forward. “You don’t want to see—“ he started.

“He’s not going to stop if someone doesn’t stop him,” I told Renzo, yanking out of his hold, then moving forward, resting both of my hands on Dav’s shoulders.

“That’s enough,” I said, voice small, hoping something softer and sweeter might be what broke through all that rage. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt anyone again.”

Dav’s hands froze, holding what was left of the head off the ground.

“Cin?” he called.

“Yeah,” I said, fingers sliding up his neck, teasing over his sweaty skin.

The head fell from his hands, landing to the ground with a sick wet thunk.

Then, just like that, all the tension left Dav’s body as he whipped around, grabbing me, pulling me down onto my knees, and wrapping his bloody arms around me.

“I thought I fucking lost you,” he said, low enough for only my ears.

“Nope. Still here,” I said, feeling a wave of unexpected emotion rise up through me, making me squeeze my eyes shut.

“Huh,” I heard Renzo say from a few feet off, likely watching us, reading into it.

This was exactly what I had been dreading since things got physical with Dav. Everyone finding out.

Somehow, though, in this moment, I couldn’t care less. All that mattered was we were alright. That we were together.

“This is one of those ‘told you so’ moments,” Saff said, coming closer. “And as sweet as it is and shit, I think we might want you guys to stop kneeling in the blood and brain matter of the bad guys.”

Her words made Dav’s body tense as he pulled back, horror playing across his features, watching me like he expected to see that mirrored back at him.

I mean, no, I wasn’t exactly keen on seeing him ever sink his fingers into someone’s eyes or bash their heads into the ground until they were unrecognizable again, but I understood the only reason the darkness won out in him this time was because of me. Because of how he felt for me.

I couldn’t exactly be horrified by that, now, could I?

“What do you want from us?” I asked, careful not to move, to spread any evidence around.

“Who touched you?” Renzo asked, eyeing my face.

“The three right here,” I said, gesturing around us. “The ones over by the doors did put me on the chair, but there shouldn’t be any more of my DNA on them.”

“Okay. So those are the bodies we’ll leave. No one touch them. Or be stupid enough to step in their blood,” he added. “The others, we have to get out of here. And get rid of the chair, the zip ties, the blood on the floor.”

“There’s totes over in the back,” I offered, having seen them when I’d hidden from their approaching footsteps.

“Totes?” Renzo asked, brows raised.

“Trust me,” I said. “They’ll work.”

Renzo watched me for a long moment.

“I think we need to have a long fucking talk when we’re done here,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. There was no use lying to him. Not now. He was involved. They all were. We had to let them in finally.

“We’ll take the black van,” Rico said. “Easy transport. Saff, Elian, go get some supplies,” he said, already slipping into work-mode. “And some extra clothes,” he added, looking at the two of us kneeling in blood.

We stayed put, waiting for Saff and Elian to return as the others started to gather the bodies, slipping them into totes, literally scooping up brain matter with bits of cardboard boxes, and dropping it into the plastic containers before moving them out of the way.

“Alright,” Rico said, taking the bag from Elian. “Stand up and strip,” he demanded, all business.

“Here,” Dav said, grabbing me around the forearms as I winced when I moved to stand. “Your ribs?”

“They’re okay. It’s more my stomach,” I admitted.

Then we stood there in the basement surrounded by our colleagues and friends and stripped down to our underwear.

“Damn,” Saff said, coming over to me to scrub at me with baby wipes. “I always knew you had great tits,” she said, shooting me a smirk. “But, damn. Congrats,” she added with a smile over her shoulder at Dav whose face was being wiped down by Elian.

Once we were reasonably clean, we slipped on simple black sleep pants.

Saff’s lips were twitching as Dav pulled his shirt down.

Please remember to spay and neuter me it said below an image of assorted dogs.

“Really, Saff?” he asked, shaking his head at her.

“It seemed appropriate, you hound,” she said with a smile as I pulled on my plain white tee.

“Alright,” Rico said, gathering our clothes and baby wipes, and shoving them into a black bag. “I need you two to go home and scrub. You know the deal,” he said.

“We can help,” I insisted.

“I can help,” Dav corrected.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re beaten to shit again.”

“Again?” Renzo growled, shooting a dark look at both of us.

“It’s not that bad,” I told Dav. I could deal with Renzo’s anger later.

“Both of you,” Renzo snapped. “I want you out of here. I’ll deal with you later. Do what you’re fucking told for once.”

Not wanting to make shit worse, we both silently moved out of the basement, carefully sidestepping the bodies and blood, trying not to touch anything on our way out.

If anyone heard the shooting or saw the comings and goings of strangers, they showed no signs as we walked down a few blocks before hailing a cab.

We sat silently in the back, each lost in our own thoughts as we made our way back to my apartment.

“Wait,” I said as we got onto the street, watching the cab pull away.

“What?”

“Lip.”

“He’s fine. Tried to call the cops for you, but they thought he was nuts.”

“I need to—“

“We can talk to Lip later,” Dav said, turning me, and leading me into my building. “I think we need to do what Renzo wants from us right now,” he said.

“We’re in a world of shit, aren’t we?” I asked as we slipped into the elevator.

“Probably. But there’s nothing we can do about that,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist, and pulling me against his chest, his lips pressing into my hair. “I’m fucking sorry, Cin.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said. “I was the one to go off on my own.”

“No, I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, squeezing me a little tighter.

“I’m not,” I told him. “I’m not saying I want to see those particular things again,” I admitted. “But I understand why you did it. I probably would have been just as unhinged.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hands sliding up and down my spine.

“Yes.”

“Woulda tore through a fucking army with my bare hands to get you back, Cin.” His lips pressed into my hair again. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m going to be in dicey situations again,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but you have to let me be there with you.”

This was everything I told myself I could never promise him.

But the reason had always been because I didn’t want the family to find out.

It was too late for that.

So why the hell did it matter now?

Why couldn’t I have this?

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay?” Dav asked, leaning me back to look in my eyes, asking a different question.

“Okay,” I agreed, offering him a small smile as the doors chimed and slid open.

I’d just barely reached for the doorknob before all the locks were sliding, and the door was being yanked open.

“Where have—“ Joel started, voice raised, panicked, before his eyes fell on me. “Oh.”

“It’s been another day, kid,” Dav said, moving us inside.

“Nice shirt,” Joel said, smirking at Dav’s rescue shelter shirt. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’ve been worse,” I admitted, but with the adrenaline draining out, I was starting to feel all the punches, the soreness from being in a strained position for so long, the burn of the cut around my wrist.

“I’ll get the kit,” Joel offered.

“Wait,” Dav said. “We need to wash off first,” he said, looking down at his fingers, his gaze going far away, likely remembering where he’d stuck them not long before.

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Joel said, nodding and letting us walk off into the bathroom.

We peeled off our clothes in silence, then stepped under the spray in unison, both just standing under the water, letting it wash away the fear and pain and gore of the past several hours before we focused, soaping up, scrubbing every inch of ourselves, making sure there was no evidence left, before we finally climbed back out.

“I’ll grab clothes,” Dav offered, leaving me alone to finally see my own reflection.

The bruises were dull still.

They’d settle in over the next day or so.

My lip was split and swollen.

And I had that wiggly tooth to worry about.

But it was okay.

I’d heal.

And I’d never have to worry about these fucks again.

“I’m suddenly glad you aren’t the girly sort,” Dav said as he came in, handing me a pile of clothes, and keeping a pair of oversized men’s sleep pants and a hoodie for himself. The pants were floods on him, and the hoodie that was loose on me was snug on his bigger frame, but it would do for the time being.

I got into the sweatshirt and sleep pants he brought me, ran a brush through my hair, then let Dav treat my wrist before we heard voices in the common room.

“Renzo?” I asked, brows scrunched.

“I don’t think so,” he said, carefully moving out, still paranoid, but his body relaxed as he reached back for my hand, pulling me into the hallway.

To see Joel talking to Lip.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

“He has your phone,” Joel said, tone accusatory.

“I know,” I said, walking forward toward Lip, and taking it from his hands.

“You… oh,” Joel said, the wind leaving his sail.

“How’d you know?” Dav asked Joel.

“He called it earlier,” Lip explained. “I picked up. He told me where to bring it, so…”

“I appreciate it. It would have been a pain in the ass to get another new one,” I told him. “We were just going to order some food,” I told him. “Want to stay?”

“I…” Lip said, looking down at himself.

“We just cleaned up if you want to too,” I invited, waving toward the bathroom.

Joel looked at Lip, then me, then back again, sussing out the situation quickly. “I’ll loan you some clothes,” he said.

“I can’t—“

“Sure you can,” Dav interrupted him. “Trust me, you’re not gonna win against this one,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist, and hauling me closer. “Better to save yourself the grief and just do what she wants.”

Lip’s cheeks went red, embarrassed for things that were out of his control, but nodded. “Okay. Thanks,” he said, walking toward the door Dav gestured to, and slipping inside.

It would probably be his first real shower in weeks. Months, even. I hope we left him enough hot water to really enjoy it.

“I’ll be back,” Joel said, looking a little fragile as he headed toward the hall to go back into his parents’ apartment for said clothes.

“You know,” Dav said when we were alone, heading toward the coffee pot, “I think you have two kids now,” he declared, making me shudder at the implication.

Yet, somehow, I found myself more intrigued than terrified by the prospect.

“It’s cool,” he said, shooting me that playboy grin of his. “I think I might have a thing for hot moms.”