Chapter Twelve

Hadley

The last three days have been hell. Knowing that Wolf—because I can't call him Brandon anymore—is sleeping in his truck is driving me insane. All I want to do is go down there and drag him to my bed. But I don't and I won't. After our fight on Monday and crying myself to sleep after he left, I can't go back. Hardening myself to him and doing my best to ignore him is all that I have at the moment. Many times, I've thought about explaining to him why his controlling behavior set me off the way it did. The way I grew up and being cut off from everyone isn't something I want to go through again.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I contemplate calling in sick to work just so I don't have to see him today. Just as I grab my phone from the bedside table, a text comes through. Seems I don't have to go into work after all. It's a text saying the girl I'm supposed to cover is feeling better and back on shift.

Pulling my robe over Wolf's shirt—because I now sleep in it—I make my way outside. He's standing beside his truck, waiting on me, looking better than anyone should after sleeping in their truck.

"What's wrong?" Wolf strides toward me with concern covering his face. Immediately, I fall back a step.

"Nothing." Holding my hand up, I stop him from getting any closer. "The girl who was out is back so I don't have to work today. You can leave."

Turning around, I haul ass away from him.

"Blue." He waits for me to turn around before he continues.

"My shirt still looks good on you." He smiles at me but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Looking down, I see that the front of my robe has parted slightly, showing that I am indeed wearing his shirt. I pull the sides together, turn away, and head back to my apartment. After I crawl back into my bed, I turn off the alarm and go back to sleep.

An hour later, my phone rings for the third fucking time and I finally answer it.

"What?"

"Where are you, girlie? Your shift started twenty minutes ago," Maurice queries from the other side.

"Someone sent me a message saying I didn't have to come in today." Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit upright in bed.

"Goddammit. Okay. I'll sort this shit out but I need you to come in. Please?"

"Sure, give me thirty minutes and I'll be there."

After jumping out of bed, I fly through the shower in record time.

Making my way out of the apartment, I have my heels in my hand because I can walk faster in my flats. As I walk down the street, I consider calling Wolf and letting him know what's going on but decide against it. There isn't a chance in hell that I want him thinking that I need him, that I'm dependant on him.

I walk past an alley, and a hand shoots out and grips my arm, pulling me into the darkness. Before I can scream or try to defend myself, a fist connects with my face.

****

Upon waking, I realize I'm most definitely not where I should be. My hands are bound behind my back while I'm sitting upright in a chair. It takes me a moment to pry my eyelids apart although the action does me no good at all.

Darkness surrounds me. Turning my head to either side, I try to identify a source of light but find none. I'm sitting in the chair, and I inhale the moldy scent around me. The smell triggers a memory and immediately I know I'm in some sort of cellar or underground room. The smell reminds me of the cellar at my grandmother's house from when I was younger.

My shoulders throb from the position they have been holding me in for only God knows how long. I have pins and needles from my elbows to my fingertips. Panic slowly starts to settle in.

Where am I?

What happened?

How the hell do I get out of here?

As these questions run through my mind, I have a flashback of a fist sailing through the air and connecting with my face. A large snake tattoo was prominent on that arm and realization dawns on me. I've been kidnapped. My blood runs cold and the icy hand of fear takes hold of me. My throat feels constricted and I have trouble breathing as my body betrays me. The first panic attack in five years consumes me and darkness envelopes me.

****

When I wake for the second time, it's because of a noise. Stairs creak somewhere close by. A key rattles in the lock before the door swings open on creaking hinges. The light filtering in from the hallway blinds me momentarily but it's nothing compared to the glare of the overhead light my captor flips on.

Scanning the room as quickly as possible, I try to find an escape route. I quickly return my gaze to my captor, cataloging the room in my mind. Four bare, dirty walls with paint peeling in places, the ceiling sagging in the back-right corner, and no other doors. No windows. Besides myself, the chair which I occupy firmly in the middle of the room is the only item, except for the bare bulb swinging above my head. There's no other exit than the one directly in front of me, and in that doorway stands no other than Viper himself.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he drawls. "Did you have a good nap?"

Refusing to answer, I ignore him. Fear claws its way up my throat, and if I open my mouth and say one word, I'll choke on it.

"Are you going to answer me, bitch?" He glares at me and the pure hatred that shows in his muddy brown eyes is enough for me to recoil as if I've been slapped in the face.

A sound erupts from deep in his chest. The sound grates on my already frayed nerves. Watching as his belly jiggles, I realize he's laughing at me. This man—no, this monster—is taking pleasure in what he's doing to me. He's an asshole for enjoying this and anything I do, any movement, anything I say will just further motivate his crazy ass.

This man with his dead eyes, ugly tattoos, and beer belly is going to break me. Of that, I'm certain, but I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing it happen. I have lived through worse.

He stalks over to where I'm sitting and stares at me. Averting my gaze from his, I can try to hide the unadulterated fear that I know is shining bright in my eyes. He wraps my ponytail around his fist and yanks my head back. There's nothing I can do but allow him to look me straight in the eye. There's no way he can't see the fear or the unshed tears. A smirk forms on his lips.

"You are one tough bitch to get alone. Do you know that?" He tilts his head to the side and curiously watches me for any reaction.

"First, Storm comes to your rescue at the diner, then all those damn muscle-bound bouncers at the titty bar." He exhales loudly. "Wolf doesn't leave your apartment after you go inside. Can't start a war with them even though I could kill any one of them with my hands tied behind my back. I watched, and I waited. I waited, and I watched, and I saw something real interesting. Want to know what I saw?"

He has a manic look in his eyes that I know all too well. He's tweaked out of his goddamn mind and that realization only fuels the fear clawing at my throat. Still, I don't answer him.

He tugs sharply on my hair and smiles. "I saw Wolf. I saw that damn enforcer track your every move. And then I knew, I knew I had to take you. I couldn't just grab you and have my fun in the alley for what you did in the diner. No, I had to have you here, in my clubhouse where I could take my time. Do you want to know what I am going to do to you?"

He laughs a grating, maniacal laugh again and I know the question is rhetorical.

"I'm going to break you. I'm going to take my time and fuck every hole you have until I'm tired of you and then I'm going to walk your ass upstairs and give you to the rest of my club as a party favor."

He releases my hair and takes a step back, studying me. All the blood drains from my face and I start to shake uncontrollably. Wolf is going to be so pissed off when he finds out. If I had only called him, none of this would have happened. If only I had listened, I wouldn't be in this fucking mess.

"When we're done, we're going to drop you off at the Iron Disciples clubhouse. King has a nice reward out for you. Bruised and broken, I can blame it all on the Gypsy Bastards. The Iron Disciples will ride in and exterminate those fuckers and they won't even know what hit them. Like lambs to the slaughter."

He looks intently into my eyes, showing me the truth of all that he has just spoken. Understanding dawns on me. Thus far, I have feared for my life, but I keep forgetting there are worse things than death. Death would be welcomed above what he has planned for me.

"But, if you are a good little whore, I'll let you live after the Gypsy Bastards are dead. I'll bring you back to the club and you can continue to service us. Earn your keep, in a manner of speaking."

He walks over to me and grabs my shirt in his right fist. With a tug, he rips it down the center of my torso, exposing my bare breasts to his eyes. My nipples shrivel in the chill of the room as he watches. He releases the shirt to leave it hanging around my middle with the sleeves still hanging on my shoulders. Wolf's words about wearing a fucking bra plays in the back of my mind and for the second time today, I regret not listening to him. He grabs his crotch and adjusts his cock in his jeans. After lifting his hand to my neck, he runs it down the front of my chest to my right breast. Willing myself to sit still, I can't stop the flinch as soon as he touches my breast.

Goosebumps break out on my skin and an involuntary shudder of revulsion works its way through my body. The slap catches me off guard as my head snaps in the opposite direction.

"You fucking whore!" He rages at me." You can let the goddamn Gypsy Bastards put their hands on you, but I disgust you?"

His chest is heaving with the anger he directs at me. The second slap splits my lip open and is just as jarring as the first. He takes my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twists it. A scream rips free from my lungs and at that moment, I know I'm not strong enough not to beg.

"Please," I whisper hoarsely. "Please don't do this."

He throws his head back and roars in laughter. "You don't have a choice. I'm going to take what I want."

In the wake of that declaration comes another fist straight to my face. It hurts like a bitch but for some reason, I remain conscious this time. My right eye is completely swollen shut but I watch him through the left. After unbuckling his belt, he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down. With a clarity I didn't think I possessed at this moment, I realize this room is where I will die. Alone with this maniac, I will breathe my last breath and there is no one to save me.

As he pulls out his cock, he starts working his hand over his prick in short, quick movements. The realization that I am going to die is quickly replaced by another. Before death comes for me, I'll be raped and beaten beyond recognition. His breathing speeds up and then a groan escapes from him as his cum splatters all over my torn shit and exposed breasts.

"Kaiya," he bellows into the hall outside while tucking himself back into his pants.

A young woman who couldn't be any older than eighteen scurries into the room. Her head is bent forward and her eyes are downcast.

"Bring a mattress in here from next door and a bucket with water. Get this whore out of the chair and cleaned up. I'm going for a drink with the boys and when I get back, I want full access to my new toy."

The girl nods her head but says nothing. Viper reaches into his back pocket and produces a syringe which he effortlessly sticks into the left side of my neck. Squirming, I try to get away, but whatever the syringe is filled with is already saturating my veins. My limbs go weak and a feeling of floating envelopes me. The last thought that crosses my mind is that I'm beyond fucked.