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I didn’t want to be in here. I’d prefer to face the fucking bullets.
My ears were ringing and my lungs couldn’t get air, loud gasps coming from me as I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating. Shouting and gunfire was all around me so I tried to focus on that instead, the lesser of the two evils in my mind.
I admitted defeat after a moment and tried to shove the door open, but it didn’t move. I was locked in here and I wasn’t getting out.
My face was drenched in tears as I smacked my fist against the door, clawing at it to try and break free. My chest was tight and I was close to passing out when it was yanked open and Cruz was there.
I practically fell out, not caring that my hands were getting cut to shit on shards of glass as I scrambled back, his worried eyes on mine as he followed me carefully on his knees.
He was talking but no words were coming out, the ringing in my ears almost deafening.
I stood and tried to run but an arm went around me to stop my escape, my arms pinned to my sides.
I twisted and turned in a panic, hearing a soothing voice close by. It was coming from whoever was holding me.
“You’re okay, they’re gone.” It was one of the Devils.
I reached out for the bar to steady myself as my vision dimmed, hearing Cruz’s voice.
“She’s not scared of the bullets, she’s scared of being locked in the cupboard. She’s claustrophobic.” Did he really know me that well already?
He appeared in front of me, his fingers running through my hair.
“Penn, baby. Look at me.” He was going to put me back in there, I just fucking knew it.
I started fighting again, making someone curse. I had to get out of here before I was trapped.
Someone suddenly grabbed my throat and slammed me back against a wall, knocking what was left of the air from my lungs.
Their green eyes bore into mine as I struggled, their voice firm.
“Snap out of it. No one’s putting you back in the fucking cupboard.”
“Skeeter!” one of the others growled but Skeeter’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Are you fucking done?” He slapped a knife into my hand, the handle cool in my grip. “No one can put you in there, and if they try, stab them. Now, breathe before you pass out.”
I choked as he loosened his hold on my throat, gripping the knife harder as memories plagued me, my father cramming me into the wardrobe and locking me inside.
His punishment never changed over the years, the wardrobe simply switching to my bedroom as I got older.
I sucked in air, my head thumping as I slid down the wall until I felt the floor under my butt.
Skeeter stepped back, his voice gruff.
“Where the fuck did you find this girl? She’s fucking traumatized.”
The bartender stepped closer with a bottle of water, slowly crouching down to my level to hand it to me while speaking to his friend.
“Short story? They kidnapped her from Kingslake. She’s Louis Whitlock’s daughter.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Get her out of here before the cops show up.”
I lifted my gaze to his, taking in his tattoo covered body and the angry scowl on his face. He had a Bloody Psychos jacket on, my eyes widening.
There were way too many criminals in this room and it was freaking me out a little bit.
I hesitated before offering him his knife back, and he took it with a huff.
