My body? As in my dead body?
These men, they’re going to kill me! But not yet.
I shake my head no, trying to figure out what to do, how to get out of here, as my panties are jerked down my thighs.
It’s too late.
That’s the only thought repeating in my head over and over again. It’s too late for me.
I’ve been kidnapped by at least four men who are planning to rape me before they kill me. The van is racing down the road in the middle of the night. One of them took my phone I couldn’t use anyway with so many hands holding me down. No one will hear me screaming. All that’s left is to try and fight, to get to the sliding door and jump out. So that’s what I try to do.
I get to my knees and lunge back toward the door but only end up getting my head slammed into the side of the van before everything goes dark.
Chapter One
Two months later…
* * *
Verek
* * *
Sunday morning I’m the first one to sit my ass down at the Savage Kings table, waiting for everyone else to slowly file in, my knee unable to keep still as I wait. That’s why as soon as I see Winston, I grill him since Roman banned me from the boathouse where we’re keeping our captive – one of the four men who raped Tessa two months ago.
“Have you heard anything? Has the fucker really squealed already?” I ask in a rush.
“You’ll find out the details as soon as I do,” Winston responds. “Roman did say that Hugo and Marcus were able to get names out of Joey,” our VP adds as he takes a seat and rubs his fingers over his growing black beard. I’m pretty sure he’s even smiling underneath the facial hair, a rare occurrence that I seriously doubt has anything to do with torture.
“Names? All three of the other men?” I demand for clarification.
“Yeah, the other men,” Winston replies. “But that doesn’t mean they’re legit. The asshole could’ve made the shit up just to try and get us off his back, so we’ll finally kill him.”
Winston may have his doubts, but I know in my gut that this is it. It’s taken us a little over two months, but we’re finally going to make the bastards who hurt Tessa and those other three women pay.
“How’s your leg?” I ask when I remember that he took a shot Friday night.
“I’m fine,” he answers with an actual smirk rather than scowl. “Better than fine, actually. Zoe’s moving in with me.”
“Good for you,” I tell him, even though I’m jealous. Not of his stepsister, Zoe, but of being able to go to bed and wake up with the woman he loves each and every day while the woman I care for was hurt so badly that she can’t stand to be touched. At least not by me, a man. It takes every ounce of willpower in me not to wrap her in my arms whenever I see her, wishing I could make everything better.
Finally, the rest of the men hurry in with Roman on their heels, taking his seat at the head of the table.
“Thanks for coming in so early. I figured you would all be happy to hear that we were able to get what we needed out of Joey,” Roman starts. “After…applying a little more pressure yesterday, he didn’t change his tune, insisting that the three names and addresses he gave us will lead us to the last of the bastards who were kidnapping and hurting women.”
“So when are we going after them?” I ask.
“Soon,” Roman answers. “But you know how this works. First, we need to confirm their identities. I’ve asked Reece at our mother chapter to do some digging and email his findings to me. I want to see where these fuckers live, who they know, and the best way to isolate them.”
“How fucking long is that going to take?” I snap at him.
“As long as it fucking takes,” Roman replies with his eyebrow arched in warning.
“What if they’re out there kidnapping other women while we’re sitting here screwing off?” I demand.
“You’re right,” Roman says as he leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes at me. “We should all just hop on our bikes right now, swing by the addresses, and blow the heads off everyone who lives there in broad daylight to end these assholes without any concern for our own lives.”
“You know what I mean,” I grit out.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison. I doubt you and the other eight men at this table want that either.”
“I’m not saying we have to be careless, just quick,” I mutter.
“You’ve always been too goddamn impulsive, Verek. And one of these days, that character flaw is going to bite you in the ass. You know I want these men dead as soon as you do, but there’s a certain way to go about it! We have to be smart, methodical. Consider every option to take them out and everything that could go wrong before we act.”
I get it. I know we can’t go off half-cocked, but fuck, I want to end these assholes for Tessa.
“If they had done this to Charlotte, do you think you would still want to wait?” I ask him.
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” Roman warns, pointing his finger at me. “You’re on thin ice for showing up at the safe house and seeing Tessa after I forbade it!”
“I’m sorry. I forgot you think you’re her father,” I retort as the rest of the table falls so silent you can’t even hear anyone breathing.
“While she’s living with me and Charlotte, it’s my responsibility to keep her safe and happy. Not yours. I’ve told you a thousand times, Tessa doesn’t need you fucking with her head! Now, this is my goddamn table and it’s my decision how we go after these men, unless you want to challenge me for the gavel?” he asks, picking the wooden mallet up by the handle.
I grit my teeth together but don’t answer. I don’t want to be the fucking president, not that I think I would have enough votes even if I wanted to try and overthrow Roman. All I want is to finish this shit for Tessa so she can move on with her life.
I can’t even argue that he’s wrong about letting me see her.
It’s my fault she left the club the night she was abducted. That’s why I have to be the one to make it right, to try and make amends by killing the men who hurt her.
Tessa
* * *
“So, how was your weekend?” Dr. Burgess, my psychiatrist, asks as soon as I get seated on the light blue sofa in her office.
“Fine,” I answer truthfully. Living with Charlotte and Roman isn’t ideal, but it’s better than being alone back in Raleigh. Or with Paul. And I definitely can’t tell her that Friday night, Roman and the Savage Kings were able to find one of my attackers and that he’s currently being held hostage and tortured for the other names.
“Are you still having nightmares?” she asks as her pen moves across the notepad in her lap.
God, I hate that question. What I have are not nightmares. They’re real. Every night when I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, I’m right back in that damn van. I feel the same terrifying helplessness, knowing the horrors that await me but being completely unable to prevent what is coming. I thought I was going to die when I woke up in the storage facility with tape over my mouth. A man I didn’t know and hadn’t seen in the van was on top of me, inside me, biting my breast hard enough to make me bleed while the others held me down. When he finished, they locked my head and wrists in the stocks and…well, that’s when I wanted to die because what they did to me hurt so much. I never knew pain like that existed. I don’t know how a human body can survive such agonies.