AllFreeNovel
Share Us
3
River
I wakeup with a splitting headache.
The side of my face is sticky with blood, dripped down from the throbbing wound at the side of my head, and it takes me a little while to remember what happened. I killed the shitty informant in the alley and then someone came out of the club and attacked me. My head hurts because the asshole hit me over the head with my own gun.
I go to lift one hand to touch the wound and see how bad it is or if it’s still bleeding, but I get brought up short by the chain attached to the shackle around my wrist. I’m chained to a wall, which explains the cold, hard brick against my back. The realization shoots through me like a bolt of electricity, and for just a second, I have a flash of extreme panic.
My breath comes in short, quick pants, and my heart kicks into overdrive, my pulse thundering through my veins. The facts of what’s happening here and now start to blur with old fears and memories, and ice spreads through my chest, keeping me frozen with terror. Even though I’m alone in this room, the vision of a group of men standing over me, leering and laughing at my pain, flashes through my mind, as real as it was back then. A flashback of the hellish time I spent in captivity when I was sixteen years old.
But this isn’t the same as that, I remind myself.That’s over. It’s done. You’re not that girl anymore.
I repeat those words in my head as I drag in one deep breath and then another, forcing my burning lungs to cooperate with me.
Six of the men who fucked with me and tortured me are dead. There’s only one name left to go.
This isn’t the same as my previous captivity.
The rooms are different, for one thing. This is all grayish brick and cinderblocks from what I can make out as my eyes adjust to the darkness. There’s a tiny bit of light coming in from the small crack under the door, and I squint as I try to gauge my surroundings. I can’t see far enough to make out furniture or anything, but it doesn’t feel like a completely empty space.
The room Hannah and I were held in back then was mostly brick, but red and brown and cut with wood. There were tables and chairs and doors that led to rooms with beds and other surfaces those men used to make us scream and hurt.
Those differences are enough to root me in reality, and I blink and shake off the terror as best I can. My blood runs hot and cold, and as I calm down from that first bout of panic, a new kind sets in. This time, my fear has much more to do with mycurrentsituation.
What if I die here and don’t get that last name?
It’s all I’ve lived for, for the past five years. It’s all that’s keeping me going. Killing Ivan St. James and crossing his name off my list is the last thing I have to do before I can die, and the thought of not fulfilling that promise to my sister fills me with a sick kind of dread.
I flex my fingers and shake out my hands, trying to get rid of that nervous pins-and-needles feeling. I need to have my goddamn wits about me if I’m going to handle whatever this is and get out of here.
I refuse to be taken out before I get that last name, no matter who the guy that captured me is.
A larger sliver of light floods the room, making me squint my eyes against it. I hear footsteps on stairs, and when I finally blink away the spots, there are two guys standing in front of me.
One of them is the guy from the club, the one who took my gun and bashed me over the head with it.
He’s tall and well-built, with dark hair and a strong jawline. His eyes are a piercing green that I remember from the alley when he stared at me and demanded that I tell him why I was there.
He’s giving me that same look now, and I look away from him to his friend, giving the other man a slow once over.
This guy is just as attractive as the first, but in a harsh way. Everything about him seems to be sharpened as if to cut. His blue eyes are bright and icy, and he watches me as I look at him. He’s got dark blond hair, buzzed on the sides and long on top, which would probably make anyone else look like a fuck boy, but he just seems to wear it like armor.
Where the first guy looks angry and impatient, there’s no expression on Blue Eyes’ face. He stares back at me, but that neutral expression doesn’t change.
“What were you doing at our club?” the first man demands, and I shift my attention back to him. He looks frustrated, his arms folded and his eyes narrowed. There’s a small scar on his upper lip, and I focus on that for a second instead of answering his question. Just to piss him off.
“Why did you kill that man?” Blue Eyes adds. His voice is as flat as his expression, and I wonder what he’s hiding under all that calm coldness.
“Because he had to die,” I snap, finally giving them something. The longer this night goes on, the more pissed off I get. My lead on Ivan evaporated into thin fucking air thanks to that shitty-ass informant, and I’m ending the night in chains with some assholes poking their noses into my business.
“Why our club?” the first guy asks again, and this time I can hear how pissed off he is.
“The location wasn’t the point,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “But he had it coming. That’s all you need to know.”
The two of them exchange a look, and I don’t even know what Green Eyes can see in Blue Eyes’ expression because it doesn’t change. But there’s some wordless communication there all the same, and I know they’re not happy with my answer.
Too fucking bad.
