“Don’t worry, Preacher. Your time is nearly up. You won’t even be around to see the war.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t help my fucking club. The only thing I can do is lie here in agony and pray that Boo is okay, and that she found a way to contact Judge.
Even his life may depend on that.
BOO
The darkness slips away,but I can’t open my eyes. A thick crust sticks to my eyelashes. I try to wipe it away, but it takes several attempts before I can peel my eyelids apart. I blink once. Twice. Light flickers back into my vision.
Raising my hands, I stare at the dried, crumbly blood covering them. That’s what was crusting my eyes closed. Trailing my fingertips along my face, I find more trails of dried blood. God, Alan had gotten me good this time. He’d been out for blood. This was not the sick torture he liked to call foreplay.
My body aches as I try to shift. My muscles scream from lack of movement and the need for more rest, all at the same time. How many hours or days had passed, I didn’t know. But the waves of agony and the damp feeling of piss between my legs tells me it’s been days.
It’s not until I try to stand that I notice the thick chain around my ankle and the collar around my neck. New accessories I don’t remember adding to my outfit. Alan’s handiwork, no doubt. He’d threatened me once with a punishment of this sort, by chaining me to his bed and never letting me leave. I guess it wasn’t a threat after all.
I tug at my bonds. The chains are heavy, making it impossible to move in my weakened state. My heart plummets as despair fills my soul. I’m well and thoroughly trapped.
“You’re awake,” Alan’s voice calls from the doorway. “About fucking time.” Sauntering into the room, his sinister grin grows the closer he gets, like a cat stalking its prey.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I snap, my hope at escape so diminished, I no longer care to keep up the facade of being a willing participant in this fucked-up situation. Alan had caught me red handed with that phone, and I knew the consequences if I got caught—death, or being sold. Two options that honestly don’t seem so bad, given the situation I’m in right now.
“You always did have a mouth on you.” Pausing in front of me, he snags my chin between his fingers. “You could burn a man to death with that glare of yours.”
Alan would be ash in the wind if that were possible. They would all be.
“Tell me, does your head hurt?”
I glare at him.
“Answer me,” he growls, spittle spraying across my face like a rogue shower nozzle. He digs his fingers deeper into my flesh.
“Yes,” I hiss, just wanting the added pain to go away.
“Good,” he smiles before releasing me. “Be a good girl, and tell me who you were trying to call.”
“Nobody.”
His fist slams into my cheek. The impact forces me to stumble back, the chain around my throat and foot clanking with the motion. I fall to the ground, but don’t stay there long, as Alan hauls me to my feet and tosses me onto the bed.
My back hits the mattress with a bounce, and I watch Alan through narrow, tear-filled eyes, Alan straddling the lower half of my body that’s hanging off the bed, keeping me in place like he’s done so many times. I doubt his cock will come into play this time, though. He’s here for blood—my blood.
“Tell me the truth, you lying bitch.” He punches me again, this time in the stomach. I try to curl away from the impact to protect myself, but Alan stops me by grabbing the chain connected to my collar and jerking it. “Who. Were. You. Calling?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I choke out, the collar pressing against my windpipe. I know my response will piss him off, but if these are to be my last minutes on earth, I’d rather spend them fighting back than submitting like I’ve done since I was sold to this godforsaken club. No more. I’m done pretending. I’m done letting shit happen to me because that’s the way it's supposed to be. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. And even if I only have a few precious breaths left, I’ll take them while fighting this cocksucker.
“Your little mouse disobeyed you. How does that feel, Alan? The betrayal of trust. I bet you’re wondering how many times it’s happened. Would you like to know that answer? Dozens. With all of your fucking brothers. That’s who I was calling. I was begging one of your brothers to come and save me from having to deal with your pencil dick.”
It’s a lie. They hadn’t touched me, but he didn’t know that. It’s clearly been days since the call, and Alan’s inquisition leads me to the fact that he doesn’t know I called Priest’s club. I have no idea how, but it’s clear he doesn’t. And if he doesn’t know, they could be on their way to get Priest, to get me—ifI survive this.
And if I don’t survive? At least Priest has a chance to escape, and his club could put an end to the Screwballs MC once and for all. That in itself would be worth the price I paid.
“Fucking bitch!” Alan’s hands clench around my throat, squeezing and blocking air from entering or exiting my lungs. I thrash, my hands and knees flailing, trying to make a connection with his balls. Alan just presses his body into mine, using his weight to squeeze my legs together. “Tell me!”
“No,” I wheeze, the word barely audible.
He squeezes and squeezes, his eyes bulging from his head as he stares down at me with rage and hatred. The world grows dimmer, but just as the light completely fades away, the pressure disappears.
I gasp, choking on gasps of air as I claw my way up the bed, away from him.