The truck stopped and the woman next to her whimpered. Amelia reached for her hand and held it in her own, trying to silently let her know that everything was going to be okay, even if she had a sick feeling that it wasn’t. The back doors of the truck swung open to reveal three big men, all mean-looking and pointing guns at the women.
“Let’s go, ladies,” one of the men shouted at them.
“Where are we?” someone from the back of the truck asked.
“You keep your fucking mouths shut, and no one will get hurt,” another man warned. Amelia didn’t quite believe him that their silence would guarantee their safety, but she also knew when to keep her mouth shut. It was a skill that she learned at an early age.
Her father wasn’t the easiest man to get along with. He drank too much and when he did, he was mean. He liked to slap her mother around, and when she finally took off, leaving Amelia and her younger sister with their alcoholic father, he decided that they’d do in a pinch. She became a punching bag for her old man and took most of the punishment so that her sister could be spared. That was when she learned that silence was golden, even if it didn’t always stop her father from hitting her.
“Now, I’m going to say this one more time, ladies,” the first man spat. “Let’s go.” She stood, knowing that he wasn’t going to give her or any of the other women another chance to comply.
Another truck pulled up next to the men holding guns at the women, and two more men jumped out. The one driving looked to be the one in charge. He started barking orders as soon as he got out of the old truck. The second guy looked the women in the truck over and seemed a little bit green by the whole scene. If she wasn’t mistaken, she noted a hint of pity in his dark eyes and that surprised the hell out of her. None of the other men looked at the women that way. They seemed to look straight through them, not really even seeing them. Maybe it was easier for the men that way. They wouldn’t have to think of the women as human beings, but as objects that needed to be moved at any cost.
“Where are you taking us?” another woman asked as she stepped down from the truck. One of the guards backhanded her and she yelped, falling to the concrete ground.
“Anyone else have a question?” he asked the group. Of course, no one else spoke up. No one dared after the woman was helped up from the floor, holding her jaw, whimpering in pain. The other women were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
“Good, let’s move,” another guard shouted. The women filed into a single line and walked into the warehouse silently. Wherever they were going, Amelia was pretty sure that none of them were going to like their final destination.
They lined up the women in front of cages and she was sure that she had correctly guessed how much she was going to hate what came next. “In,” the third guard shouted. Some of the women cried and shook their heads, but Amelia knew that none of that would help save her from the inevitable. She was going to have to get into the disgusting cage behind her, just like all the others.
Amelia stepped into the cage and the guard with kind eyes looked in at her and nodded, as if actually thanking her for her compliance. She shrugged, “No use in fighting,” she whispered more to herself than to him. “You do have a gun.” She nodded to the semi-automatic he was holding, pointed in her direction.
“Smart girl,” the guy drawled, walking over to the next woman in line, and demanding her compliance. She didn’t give it as willingly as Amelia had. He forced her into the cage next to Amelia’s and she fell to the dirty concrete floor. He shouted at the woman that she needed to learn her place as she scooted across the floor to the back corner of the cage. Amelia wasn’t sure how they had all landed in this hell, but she was sure of one thing—it was going to get worse, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, things probably wouldn’t get better—ever.
Spider (A Halloween Novella- Royal Bastards MC: Huntsville Chapter Book 12) Universal Link->https://books2read.com/u/38nWA6
Did you love Thorne and Rose’s story and want to read more of the Savage Hell MC Series? Here’s a peek into RoadKill, book one of the series!
Savage satin the holding cell, waiting for the officers to bring Cillian in to see him. He knew his old friend would call him for help sooner or later. Cillian James was the one he failed, and Savage lived with that disappointment in himself every damn day. Savage was good friends with Cillian’s dad and had been since they arrived from Ireland when Cillian was just a kid. He promised to keep an eye on him after his parents went back to Ireland and Cillian stayed in the US, but somewhere along the line, Savage failed him.
When Cillian tried to join Savage’s MC, he refused him. Patching in the kid would have been the wrong call. He didn’t belong in that group of military misfits and one-percenters who made up his motley crew. To Savage, they were family but to Cillian, they would mean the end of what he wanted—a chance at a normal life. So, he told the kid that he didn’t want him and even made up some excuse about him being too hot-tempered for their club, just to throw him off the scent. It had the opposite effect though and Cillian became even more determined to find his way in. Even if that meant joining Savage Hell’s rival club—the Dragons. They were bad news and before Savage could step in and save Cillian, he had stolen a car to try to prove his worth to the Dragons. The problem was—they didn’t want Cillian and when it came down to it, they let him rot in prison over a gang prank that went wrong.
Their leader thought it would be funny to set Cillian up to take the fall for grand theft auto and he took the bait and was now serving his time for the crime he committed. It pissed Savage off knowing that he could have prevented all of Cillian’s problems if he had just let him into Savage Hell. But it was too late to go back and change all of that. All Savage could do now was help his friend and he was hoping that was why he was summoned to the prison so early on a Monday morning.
The steel door creaked open, and Cillian walked in wearing handcuffs and a smile. The officer instructed them that they were not allowed any physical contact, they only had ten minutes for their visit and asked Savage if he wanted Cillian’s cuffs on or off.
“Off,” Savage growled. As soon as the handcuffs were removed, Cillian sat down on the other side of the table from Savage and nodded.
“Thanks for coming, man,” Cillian said.
“No problem, Cillian. It’s been a damn long time,” Savage said. “I’ve been here a few times, but you refused to see me—what was up with that, man?”
Cillian chuckled and Savage sat back to cross his arms over his chest, finding the whole thing less funny than his friend.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Cillian said, and Savage just shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I heard anyone call me by my real name. I was starting to forget who I was in here.”
“Yeah, I heard about all of that,” Savage said. “You got into some trouble. I heard you killed a man.” Cillian eyed the guard who stood in the corner of the room, watching and listening to every word they were saying.
“Nope,” he said. “But I got the credit in the yard for it and that’s how I got my nickname—Kill.” Cillian flashed Savage a grin and he shook his head.
“It doesn’t suit you,” Savage growled. “I think I’ll stick with your real name, Cillian.” His friend didn’t seem at all put off by his refusing to use his new nickname, even shrugging it off.
“Suit yourself,” he said, his Irish accent sounding in full. Savage didn’t realize just how much he had missed his friend until just now.