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Chapter Twenty-One
I hurt everywhere.My face feels like a solid ball of pain that throbs in time with my racing heartbeat. I can hardly open my eyes and my nose, I’m sure, is broken—judging from the amount of blood that I’m wearing down my front. My dizzy vision and swollen eyes stop me from seeing too much, but I know they’ve been taking photos of my pathetic self and sending them onto I can only assume my brothers and Dane.
Their plan is stupid really. They think hurting me will convince Derek to hand over all the Saxons’ businesses and territory to the Reapers. That will not happen. Derek cares about me, I’m sure. He probably on some level loves me, but he’ll never give up the Club for me, and I don’t think I would expect him to either. The Lost Saxons are his entire world and it’s more than a bike club—it’s family. How do you give up family?
A part of me suspects Dylan doesn’t want them to step down. He just wants the satisfaction of destroying my family. Why? I don’t know. He sure as hell seems to have a vendetta against the Club, though, that goes beyond wanting the territory, wanting the drug-running lines. I know the Lost Saxons make a lot of money in selling and moving drugs through the country, acting as the middle point between the north and south of the UK, but his desire to own it is all consuming.
I’m not supposed to know any of this, but all the girls know on some level what the guys are up to behind closed doors. We’re not idiots. We just choose to love the men underneath, in spite of their illegal dealings.
I’m barely conscious, but I can hear the low mumblings of voices. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I know they’re there, just beyond the doors of the common room.
I fall in and out of consciousness as I sit there, my head dipping dangerously far forward. If it wasn’t for the ropes, I’d be face first on the floor.
My hair is roughly grabbed and my head is tugged back.
“Wakey, wakey,” Dylan crows. The psycho is enjoying this more than he should be.
I blink, trying to get my bearings, trying to work out how long I’ve been out of it, but it’s impossible to tell. The lights are on, which they weren’t last time I was aware… were they?
“Fuck you,” I mouth at him, even though it costs me my last inch of energy to say it. I can feel the blood on my face, making the skin feel tight as it dries.
I hate him.
“I’m not well versed in lip reading, but I’m guessing that wasn’t anything nice you just spat at me.”
I try to glare at him. Try and fail because I can hardly see a thing through my glued together lids. I want the pain to stop, I want it to end, but I don’t see that happening any time soon. He has complete control over this situation right now.
“I haven’t had this much fun with a Saxons’ bitch since Paige.” His expression goes a little distant. “She was a good girl.”
I clench my jaw. I don’t want to hear him talking about my friend this way. Paige was traumatised by whatever this bastard did to her when he had her. Weed rescued her, but saving her had let Dylan get away. Knowing Weed, he’ll be beating himself up for that now. He might seem like he never takes things seriously, but he takes more to heart than he lets on.
“Maybe we can have a little fun before this is all over, just like I did with Paige.”
My heart sinks for Paige. Oh my god, what did he do to her? What’s he about to do to me?
My attention is diverted as Dylan cups one of my breasts and my skin crawls. I’m going to be sick. I don’t want his dirty hands on me.
“Such pretty tits…” he murmurs, his thumb running over his bottom lip as he stares at it.
I shake my head and mouth ‘no’, but with no words, I’m helpless. Not that I think this sick fuck would listen even if I could speak.
Internally, I’m screaming.
Externally, I can make no sound but the harsh pants of my breath that signify my fear.
He whistles absently as he moves to the back of the chair and I feel the pressure on my wrists slacken. Is he untying me? I brace, ready to fight, ready to gain my freedom, even if I can hardly see straight. I won’t let this man touch me like that again, even if I have to die to stop him.
Beneath all my panic, a noise catches my attention. I try to ignore it, but it’s like a buzzing in my ear. It takes my muddled brain a moment to realise what it is.
Bikes.
And from the sound of it, there’s a lot.
I try to glance in the direction of the window, but it’s behind me and my neck twinges every time I try, so instead I tilt my head to listen.
The door bursts open and Racket flies in through it. “Fuck, man, we’re fucked. How did I ever let you talk the Club into this crazy shit?” He practically wails the words. “It’s the Devils and the Saxons. Looks like there’s more than a few chapters of the Devils outside.”
My heart surges. They came for me.
