Chapter 5

TRINITY

My eyes burn, dry now after all the tears. My heart thunders in my ears, beating the same tempo as the vibration of the vehicle floor under my chest. With my hands taped behind my back, I'm completely useless. Stuck. The coppery stench of blood permeates the back of the van, making the cramped floor space that much worse, and I try to clear my head.

I've never been afraid of the dark, but the blindfold completely blocks out any light, and the inky blackness becomes all-consuming. I spiral into the depths of loneliness—the unknown pressing down on me.

Who is this?

Where is he taking me?

Will Legacy ever find me?

The duct tape over my mouth is sticky, and I lick at it, trying to loosen it enough to scream while the van flies … somewhere.

Sawing my jaw back and forth, I gulp deep breaths of air when the tape finally pops free.

"You really must be fucking stupid," I snarl at the mystery biker. "They're going to kill you."

A deep chuckle floats from the front, and I twist my hands, searching frantically along the floorboards. There has to be something in this fucking van. Something sharp enough to help.

The tape burns against my skin, but I keep pulling and curling my wrists, trying to loosen the binding even a fraction.

"Oh, little bitch, no one's gonna kill me. Not sure what they're gonna do with you, though." His voice sounds familiar… too familiar. It niggles at the back of my mind. I know this man. But who is he?

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong. But my dad's the Demon Breakers' VP. People are going to come looking for me. I haven't seen your face—you could still let me go," I try to reason with him. This masked maniac who I assumed was my boyfriend when I saw the motorcycle. Stupid. So stupid.

"Ain't letting you go. Know just who you are. Now shut the fuck up," he snaps, sending a shiver down my spine. Who could this be? Is he from a rival club? Is he from my dad's club?

Why oh why did I get out of the car? When I saw the motorcycle break through the fog, I leaped out of the van. Eager to help Legacy, I opened the back to start unloading the materials from my dad that would help us fake his death. How did I not realize?

"Well, if you know who I am, then you know what Venom is capable of. You don't want to piss him off," I say, faking a bravado that I don't feel. Rubbing my face along the floor, I try to dislodge the blindfold, the loss of my sight making the panic worse. Adrenaline spikes through my veins, rushing through me like wildfire, and my breathing becomes shallow.

The masked mystery biker laughs once again mockingly, the sound fueling my rage. I am not going to just lay here.

"Told you to shut the fuck up. Had to leave my bike in the fuckin' desert because of your ass. Keep yammering, and I'll put a bullet in you myself," he roars, and the van makes a sudden sharp turn, sending me slamming into the harsh rim of the barrel.

The sharp edge ... Yes. Finally.

Even when a grunt escapes my lips and pain shoots up my arm, the discomfort matters less than the sudden hope that blossoms deep within my chest.

"Touch me, and you're a dead man," I snap back, trying desperately to keep him occupied.

Wiggling against the blood barrel, I slip my taped wrists over the jagged piece and saw frantically. Drops of sweat dot my brow, and my arms scream in agony—but I don't stop. I can't fucking surrender.

"Your daddy ain't gonna save you. Blood in, blood out," he says the words like a mantra. And it is. A shudder of dread rolls down my spine as the van slows to a stop. "Wait right here, little bitch. I'll be back for you real soon."

The door slams after he jumps out, and loud bass music thumps all around me—so loud that I'm surprised the van isn't rocking.

Straining my ears, I can hear people talking and laughing. It sounds like a party—the kind of place where I could get lost in a crowd. Back and forth, I work my hands against the knifelike edge, gasping in relief when it suddenly loosens.

It's not off yet. But it's a start.

Hurry!