Chapter Twenty-Four

"Iowe you an apology for all this, Kincaid. If I hadn't—"

"Don't do that. None of us are fucking angels who think everything through before acting on it. So no, you don't owe me an apology. I shouldn't have let you talk me into leaving the compound with you in tow." Kincaid shrugs as best she can with her arms still above her head. "Does that mean I owe you an apology?"

"Not even a little." I sigh, shaking my head lightly. My arms ache after being raised and tied to the bedpost for so long, and my legs are beginning to cramp up from lack of mobility.

I'm not sure how long we've been here at this point, but the sun is rising so it's a new day. Aleko will be going crazy not knowing where we are, the rest of the club too. The thought makes me feel a little sick, knowing the pain he'll be going through because I got bored and wanted to play detective.

Will they be able to figure out where we are and come to save us? I really hope so, because as time goes on, things are looking bleak. Grinder's been gone since last night, or the early hours of this morning, whenever the fuck it was they knocked him out and took him.

"The way out of this is to look for opportunities. Okay, Blondie?"

"For a tall, brooding, Amazonian woman with a resting bitch face that could kill a man, you're pretty optimistic."

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" She huffs a laugh and I smile back. She's not wrong.

"So what kind of opportunities are we looking for? Because I doubt they're going to untie me and let me bake a batch of my famous poisoned cookies. That's pretty much my wheelhouse. Or pretending I'm dead, which, ya know, isn't working out so well right now."

Kincaid's eyes widen a little. Well, one of them, the other is a little swollen after Plain Face punched her before leaving the room earlier.

"We are circling back to the poison cookies at some point, because that sounds like a fun story I need to know more about. As for the opportunities, I don't know yet. You need to be careful though. Psycho will fucking annihilate me if something happens to you or that baby. Just take my lead if anything kicks off, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Again, she's not wrong.

Before we can say anything else, the door flies open and we're greeted by Goatee.

"Ay ay, the bitches are awake, Shaun."

Plain Face—Shaun—saunters in behind his buddy, a smirk etched across his annoying face.

"While the boss is away, it's time for us to play. Knew there had to be some perks to this fucking job." Shaun approaches me, taking a chunk of my hair and rolling it through his stubby fingers.

"You want the feisty one or the blonde before Preston wakes up? We've got about six hours before Alastair arrives, too. " Goatee approaches Kincaid from behind, far enough away that she can't use her upper body weight to jump up at him.

"Well, this one does have great tits. Even lying down, they're more than a handful." Shaun laughs and it makes my insides want to crawl out of my skin and throw themselves down the toilet as he grabs one of my breasts and squeezes really hard.

I try not to wince, my past experience making that easier than expected.

"But this one, look at that ass, man. Lots to grab onto while you're fucking it raw."

Shaun's run-down of our features is vomit-inducing, and he continues to squeeze my breast and pinch my nipple. Not a hint of arousal overcomes me and I'm close to trying to black this whole thing out… again. I've survived this shit once, lived it for years, until I was gang-raped. That was my final straw. Trying to get through that happening again… I don't know.

There's already a possibility I'm pregnant with my rapist's baby, I jus—my breaths start coming fast and heavy, making me realize that I'm not as over what happened to me as I thought.

"Oh look, she's getting excited. She likes that. Let me have a go." Goatee circles Kincaid and her death-glare toward me, and I'm about to crack, to show them how much I truly hate this, how much it's breaking me inside. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to center myself to figure a way out of this fucking mess and control my breathing.

"Do you really wanna fuck with the quiet one, boys? Look at her. There's no fight there." Kincaid snaps her teeth together and winks at them, drawing their full attention back to her. Shaun still has a palm gripping my breast, unmoving now, and Goatee pauses halfway through pushing his zipper down.

"I can give you a real good time. You can even keep me restrained if it makes you feel safer." She's swaying her hips from side to side, pushing out her chest and licking her plump lips. Even with a swollen eye, this woman is stunning.

"I do enjoy a challenge." Goatee scoffs.

"You gonna be a good girl for Daddy?" Shaun finally relents and releases his hold on me, putting his hand to his waist and pulling his gun. He steadily walks over to Kincaid, pointing it at her face, and as soon as he's directly in front of her, body to body, he moves the gun to the side of her head and presses it against her skull.

Vomit climbs up my throat, which I swallow back down, as Shaun forces himself on her, grabbing a handful of her short hair and kissing her. I can't see if she's opened up for him or not because his big bald head is in the way.

I hear her groan and she grinds against him as Goatee watches, pulling out his skinny dick and tugging on it. He's right beside me, his cock eye-level, and there's no way I'm able to hide the disgust on my face. My top lip is curled, my brows scrunched, and tears are trying to fight their way out.

First Grinder, and now Kincaid. I know what they're doing here. They're protecting me. Fucking me, the one who got us into this mess, and they're putting their own lives and sanity on the line… for me and my baby. I owe them everything for this.

"Release her cuffs from the chain, Iain. I want her on all fours. Keep her hands tied though. I don't trust this dirty bitch." Shaun uses his free hand to reach into the back pocket of his pants and pulls out a condom. His other palm is firmly gripped around the handle of his gun, which is still aimed at Kincaid's head as Goatee—Iain—unclips the cuffs around her wrists from the chain on the ceiling.

Shaun rips open the condom packet with his teeth and haphazardly rolls it onto his waiting cock, which is somehow out already, something I clearly missed with everything going on.

My heart is beating so hard against my chest, I'm afraid it's going to burst. Knowing that Kincaid purposefully drew their attention away from me is the only thing keeping me silent, but I desperately want to demand they stop this. Leave her alone. Crawl in a corner and die. Anything other than what is happening toward the foot of the bed.

A meaty hand, Iain's, grips the back of Kincaid's head, pushing her forward, down to the floor. Next, he pulls a small dagger from the inside pocket of his black jacket, and it's clear his intent is to cut open her pants.

Just as the tip of the dagger is plunging down, Kincaid flips her leg around, taking her body—and Iain's—with it. Iain falls into Shaun, knocking the gun from his hand. The palm wrapped around his cock must've been gripped tightly because the condom flies off as his hands are thrown into the air to try and steady himself. It lands on the bedside table with a splat, and I'm just thankful it's far enough away from my face for it to not be a problem.

Faster than I can blink, Kincaid climbs to her knees and rips the dagger from Iain's grasp, straddling and stabbing him in quick succession in several different places across his body. His side, his chest, his neck… it's brutal, blood spraying all over the prettily-decorated room and cream carpet, but I feel calmer watching this than I did moments ago when the men were in control.

The dagger is still in Iain's throat and I notice Shaun scrambling to get up, reaching for the gun by the wall.

"Behind you!" I shout, but there was no need, because Kincaid's a badass.

Still gripping the dagger with both hands due to the cuffs, she swings her leg up and off Iain and leaps toward Shaun, knocking him back on his ass. There's a loud thud when his head hits the baseboard around the bottom of the wall, and Kincaid doesn't waste a second, stabbing him in all the same places as Iain. More blood sprays up the walls and across the floor, and before my heart can begin beating at a normal pace, both men are dead.

Kincaid doesn't waste any time reveling in the power of what she's just done, but she does grab the wad of keys attached to Iain's hip and quickly works on finding the right one to undo her cuffs. Then she turns to me, in all her bloody glory, and moves to untie the ropes around my wrists and ankles.

"I see what you mean about finding opportunities." I laugh awkwardly, rubbing at my sore wrists as I sit up for the first time in too long. "We need to find Grinder and get the fuck out of here."

"Grab the gun. Let's go." Kincaid nods, determination set across her stern expression.

My legs are unsteady as I stand, and my whole body feels weak from lack of sustenance, but I push through, bending to grab the gun because, out of the three of us, my lack of food and water is the least of our problems.

The door is silent as Kincaid slowly opens it, peering out into the hall before pulling it wide for us both to leave. I think we're inside the Beaufort house, but if the conversation I overheard earlier is anything to go by, he's out of state somewhere. Meaning the fuckboy from before is the son. I also overheard parts of a conversation about a pill shipment, which, if you ask me, is suspicious as fuck considering what's been going on lately. I filed that information away for when we get out of here, because it's literally the only good and useful thing to have happened since we left the compound yesterday.

We make our way down a bright, wide corridor and try the first door to the left from the room we just exited. It's an empty bedroom, so we continue to the next door in the far corner. Kincaid twists the golden handle then pushes, and the stench hits us first. The scent of ammonia fills my nostrils, making me double over and vomit as Kincaid enters.

I'm still heaving when she returns with a soaking wet and bloody Grinder, barely able to keep himself up, even being heavily supported by her. Standing, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and quickly move to the other side of Grinder, draping his arm across my shoulders and holding on to his waist.

"Hey, you got blood too." He laughs, noting what is likely blood on my face from Kincaid's performance earlier. "We're triplets." Grinder laughs again, but it's cut short by a cough that sounds like he needs medical attention.

"Come on, funny man." Kincaid gets us moving and we walk toward the stairs at the end of the corridor.

So far, so good, but I'm not voicing that out loud. Tempting fate is not on my to-do list.

The three of us are trying to stay as quiet as possible, the occasional grunt or groan the only sound mixing with our shuffling feet as we try to maneuver the stairs.

A squeal cuts through the silence, making us stop on the penultimate step, Kincaid and I turning to look behind us. There's a woman in a rose-gold bathrobe clutching at her chest and staring at us with wide eyes.

"I-I promise, I didn't see anything. I won't… I… shit, you're trying to leave, aren't you? Did Preston and those two Irish goons his dad hired do this to you?" The woman goes from timid and scared to pissed off and determined, real fast.

I nod. "Yeah, if that's the fuckboy's name. Are you safe here? You can come with us."

She smiles sweetly at the gesture, but shakes her head. "I'm exactly where I need to be. The code to get out of the front door without setting off the alarm system is 7869. Now go, quickly!" She shoos us away, and I'm not waiting for fucking Christmas. Kincaid must have the same thought because we're moving with Grinder between us, down to the bottom step.

I wouldn't have thought to input a code to leave the house, so I'm thankful to the glamorous woman at the top of the stairs for the heads up. Kincaid presses the numbers on the keypad, then a low beep sounds and she opens the front door.

We're on the home stretch, a hobbling trio on the path leading away from the house toward the stupidly low gate at the end. It's easier to walk across the grass and around the gate than trying to navigate the latch with Grinder between us. The area is pretty secluded, a lot of trees and shrubs surrounding the property and roadside. We follow the road toward the truck, which our kidnappers didn't have the foresight to get rid of, the stupid fucks.

I don't think any of us have the keys, seeing as everything from our pockets was taken, and I'm actually looking forward to using the hot-wiring skills I learned from the Internet.

Once we arrive at the truck, Kincaid reaches forward and opens the passenger door. It takes us a few minutes, but we manage to get Grinder inside.

"You're going nowhere!"

Fuck.

Preston—Fuckboy—is running toward us, gun in hand, and the world slows down. I'm halfway around the front of the car, ready to climb in the driver's side, and Kincaid is by the passenger door with zero protection. The gun is pointing directly at her, but she doesn't try to run, instead she flips the dagger to grip the tip and throws it in his direction. At the same time, Preston pulls the trigger and I don't think. I just run.

Pain slices through my thigh as I push Kincaid out of the way, the burn driving me to the ground, grazing my bare elbows and forearms as I have the foresight to try and protect my stomach.

The annoying yelling has stopped and I take a moment to look back at Preston, noting that he's lying in the middle of the road with the dagger firmly planted in his shoulder. With a deep, fortifying breath, I pull Kincaid up, adrenaline flowing through every vein in my body.

I'm numb to the pain after hearing Grinder moaning when he tries to get comfortable, my main focus right in this moment is getting us to the Sons of Khaos compound. Leaning heavily against the hood of the truck, I make my way back around to the driver's side and climb in.

I rip the bottom of my shirt, all the way around so it's a long strip of fabric, and I use it to tie around my bleeding thigh, creating a tourniquet of sorts the best I can.

The doors slam closed and I pull the wires from beneath the steering wheel. Connecting them in the correct way is a little more difficult than it is in my shitty old heap, but I manage it and we're soon driving down the highway toward Rockford.

Kincaid is holding onto Grinder, protecting him against every bump in the road and corner we turn, and me? My hands are shaking, my breathing is irregular, concentrating on the road is difficult, and my thigh is stinging so badly it feels like it's burning me from the inside out.

I barely remember the journey or how long it takes, but I'm screeching through the tall gates of the compound and slamming on the brakes by the garage when I see Crow working on a car outside.

Thank fuck, because I'm not sure how much longer my adrenaline is going to keep me going.

Opening the door, I almost fall out, only to be caught by a very concerned and relieved looking Crow.

"Grinder. Help him."