“No!” I screamed, my voice so loud it felt like it would rip my vocal chords.
Both his eyes were already swelling, blood pooled in his mouth as he coughed and fought for consciousness. I saw the struggle in his body, but I couldn’t get to him. I flexed each muscle, using my strength to fight my way out of their grip, but they were too strong. And when I finally saw where they were carrying me, I screamed again. I couldn’t let them take me to their car. If I did, I was as good as dead.
I twisted and jerked, thrusting my body up and down while bending my knees and kicking out to break free. All the while, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
I tried to look for help, to let someone, anyone, know that I was being taken away. But there was no one to hear my screams.
Twisting to get one last look at my guys, I watched in horror as a bearded man pistol whipped Godfrey, and he went down hard. The men carrying me stepped over Bonham’s body. He was passed out, likely from the pain and blood loss from the gunshot wound to his foot. I couldn’t see Luis.
Oh god. What were we going to do?
I shot my head back, hitting the man behind me in the jaw. I heard his teeth crack at the intensity of my hit, and although my head was ringing and my face was cut up, it made me regain a little bit of the power they’d stolen.
“Fuck you!” I screamed, when one of them tossed me into the back of the town car. I lunged for the door, trying to crawl out before they could shut it, but I wasn’t fast enough. Clutching the door handle, I tried to open it, but the child lock was on, keeping me locked inside.
“You’ll live longer if you sit quietly,” a small, resigned voice said. I whipped my head around to look at who’d said that, and gasped when I saw a skinny blonde around my age wearing a sequined dress sitting on the leather seat beside me. She had black circles under her eyes and track marks trailing her arms. I didn’t have time to assess who she was though. I had no idea if she was dangerous, or if she needed my help. The front door to the car opened and Johnny Jack, who was sporting a black eye and a shredded arm, slid into the passenger seat.
“Fucking knife-wielding bastard,” he seethed, while poking at the meat of his arm where debris and blood clung to the skin that was peeled back. Did Luis do that?
The driver started the car, and I jumped forward to attack Johnny. I knew that if I let them take me away, there would be no hope. Wasn’t that what Mama always heard on the nightly news? Don’t let them take you. Once they take you, your chances of survival nearly disappear.
I plunged my thumb into the wound on his arm, making him scream so hard that spit collected his lip, dripping down his chin as his face turned bright red in agony. Using his uninjured hand, he reached over and circled it around my neck, even as I struggled to move my torso over the seat so I could hurt him more.
I touched the bone of his arm with my thumb nail, nearly gagging at the sensation, but forced myself to keep doing it. The adrenaline surging through me was making me shake as I flailed, but I didn’t dare stop fighting for my life.
“Fucking bitch!” Johnny Jack roared, before leaning forward to bite my finger, digging into my digit with his sharp teeth.
I snapped my hand back, taking bits of his torn skin with me,
“Get goin’!” Johnny Jack snarled at the driver, and the man gunned the gas.
While he was distracted, I tried to dig my bloodied hands into his eyes, but he shoved me so hard that my head snapped back, and my teeth bit down on my tongue. I didn’t give myself a moment’s reprieve. I scrambled forward again just as I saw him try to go for the pistol strapped to his hip.
The traffic zoomed past us, and I bumped into the driver, deliberately trying to get him to swerve and lose control of the car. I could survive an accident, I couldn’t survive Johnny Jack.
But Johnny was fast. In the next second, he had a painful hold of my hair, and I was looking down the barrel of a gun. I could practically taste the gunsmoke on my tongue.
His manic eyes were locked on me, and I knew I was gone. This was it.
I thought of Rogue, of the Heirs. I remembered Mama and Daddy before they’d started hating each other. I saw the guys and me playing. I thought of my balance beam. I imagined lips at my neck and a calloused but gentle hand wrapped around my throat. I saw it all. My life flashed before my eyes and all I could think was how much I wanted more time with my best friends.
My inhale was a sharp gasp as I tensed, prepared to choke on the bullet headed for my throat. If this was it, I’d die with pride. Fuck him for what he did to those girls. I wasn’t going to beg. He was a sadistic monster, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
But then the driver cursed, and the world shifted. Suddenly, the only thing I could hear was crushing metal and screeching tires and gravity seemed to bend. The car was rolling, my head bouncing against the roof as shattered glass brushed along my bloodied lip.
I was weightless, floating in the car as we moved. Johnny Jack went limp, his head rolling as the gun dropped from his grip. I knew everything was happening fast, but it felt so slow. The force of our rolling pushed me into the lap of the girl who was sitting in the seat beside me. As soon as I crashed into her, she wrapped her arms around me, screaming into my neck as the loud noise echoed in my ears.
I thought the world would never stop churning. It felt like we would be caught in this current of noise, blood, and broken glass forever as we continued to flip. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, and I held onto the girl as tightly as she held onto me.
And then finally, the car came to a stop. Even once the car was done moving, the girl’s shrill pleas for help seemed to go on forever. My ability to process it all was slipping. I couldn’t see. Losing awareness wasn’t a gradual thing. One moment I knew I was going to die, and the next moment, I was certain that I was dead.
Thirty-Eight
Rogue
Goddamn, everything hurt. I felt like I’d been hit by a freight train.
Every time I tried to get up, O’Banion delivered another blow. When his boot connected to my ribs, I choked on my own blood and spat it back out at him.
He knelt down in front of me where I writhed on the ground. “Would you look at that,” he said with a grin. “These blue-blooded boys bleed red just like everyone else!” he cackled, and I heard several other of the lackeys chuckle with him.
I heard Scarlett scream, and the sound stabbed into my soul. It was the worst fucking sound I’d ever heard. I struggled to sit up, but I only managed lifting up onto one elbow before he was on me again, pressing his shoe against my neck as he stood up to hover over me.
I couldn’t get to her. I couldn’t fucking get to her, and it was killing me.
“Scar!”
A kick landed to my face, catching me in the cheekbone and making me see stars.
I heard a car door slam, and Scarlett’s screams were cut off. That sound was worse.
O’Banion tsked at me from above. “You know, your boy Luis Salvador over there—he cut Johnny Jack. No one fucking cuts Johnny and lives to see the day.”
He looked over his shoulder to talk to someone else. “Line these boys right up. The Heirs like to stick together, ain’t that right?” More chuckles sounded, and then Godfrey, Luis, and Bonham were dumped onto the ground next to me. “It’ll look bad, killing them all. But we can plant some drugs in their car. Rob ‘em. Make it look like a drug deal gone bad.”