“Remove your shirt,” One orders.
Reaching up, I grab the back of my collar and rip it up and over my head, tossing it to the corner.
A hand hits my bare back, shoving me forward toward the center of the room. Spun around, I’m pushed up against a wooden post. The smell of blood is even stronger in here. And judging by the drains placed throughout the concrete floor, I’m guessing a lot is spilled. Hoses even hang from the ceiling. I count at least three. Easy to wash a body off. You want a quick and easy cleanup after taking a life.
My arms are yanked in front of me, handcuffs placed around each wrist, tightened to the point it pinches my skin and makes me hiss in a breath. Fuck, my hands will be numb in no time.
I see the other one walk behind me with something hanging from his hand that gets my attention, but it’s too dark for me to see. The next second, a rubber ball gag is shoved into my mouth, prying it wide open. I feel him fastening it in place behind my head.
“This is so you don’t bite off your tongue,” he whispers darkly in my ear. “We like to hear the screams. It would be a shame to make you a mute so quickly.”
Another leather belt is wrapped around my neck, pinning it to the post, before tightening to the point it restricts my air but not rendering me completely breathless. I try to slow my racing heart and breathe deeply through my nose.
The guy in front of me pulls a chain down from a spool on the ceiling. The sound echoing through the concrete room. A link is attached to the end that he places around the chain connecting the cuffs, linking them together. He pulls sharply to unlock the chain and lets go, yanking my arms above my head in the process. The position pins my already immobile head between my arms. The pinch the cuffs cause to my wrists makes me bite into the gag.
My legs are kicked wide open, and each pant leg shoved up to my calves where I feel a cuff wrap around each one, just as tight as my wrists, before they’re shackled to the floor. A third belt is wrapped around my hips, pinning them to the post as well.
I’m unable to move a muscle. Hell, I can barely breathe.
The door opens and I get a glimpse of an older man pushing a cart with him. It looks like medical instruments on it. My breathing is rapid, and my heart is pounding as drool starts to run out of the corner of my lips.
The guy comes to a stop in front of me and pulls on a pair of gloves. Then he takes the stethoscope around his neck and places it to my chest. He listens silently and then looks to one of the brothers and nods. A cold chill runs up my spine when the guy with the snake tattoos around his neck smiles at me.
The doctor grabs a syringe and pushes the tip into a vial, extracting some of the liquid, and then turns to face me.
My body involuntary fights the restraints as he places his fingers on my chest. I feel my skin tear around my wrists from the cuffs before the blood starts to run down my arms.
“You’re going to feel a pinch.” He plunges the needle into my chest, making the room fill with my gagged scream.
ELLINGTON
I WAKE TOfind myself alone in bed, my body is so sore. Sin acted like the world was coming to an end. I mean, he’s always been rough, but he wasn’t holding anything back over the last two days. Hell, this past week for that matter.
I make my way to the kitchen to get a drink and see my dad already sitting at the table. “Have you seen Sin?” I ask him.
“No.” He frowns. “But I just woke up.”
“Sin?” I call out, entering the living room. I yelp in surprise when I see Tyson sitting on the couch, arms out across the back of the cushion. “You scared me.” I smile but it drops when he doesn’t return it. “Where’s Sin?” I ask, looking around as my father enters as well.
“He’s gone,” Tyson answers, his eyes going to my father then back to mine.
“What do you mean gone? When will he be back?” Maybe he had to go to the house of Lords for something.
“He’s not coming back.” Tyson stands and holds out a journal I hadn’t seen sitting next to him until now. Then he sets a Lords ring on the coffee table next to what I recognize is Sin’s cell phone. It starts to vibrate, and I see it light up with a text.
My breath hitches as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He’d never leave his phone behind. I pick it up, noticing there’s no longer a lock on it and open up the message to read it out loud.
UNKNOWN: Nicholas, enjoy your freedom.
“Fuck,” my father hisses, yanking the phone from my hand.
“What’s going on?” I demand. “What does it mean byfreedom?” Why is it unknown? Why would they text it to Sin and not Tyson? I would wonder why they didn’t text my father if it was directed to him, but he doesn’t have a phone that I know of.
“Tyson, may I speak to you for a second?” My father ignores my questions and doesn’t wait for an answer from Tyson. Instead, he walks out of the house and onto the back porch. I open up the journal to the first page.
Little demon,
I’m sitting here next to you in our bed watching you sleep. It’s taking everything in me to not wake you up and tell you goodbye. To see those gorgeous blue eyes look at me one more time. To hear your sweet voice whisper you love me. I won’t do that to you. I’ve already put you through enough.