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Rebel opened the back door and helped me onto the back seat. With cold fingers, she picked up my hand and pressed it to the jacket stemming my bleeding head. “Hold this, okay? Don’t let it drop.”
It was easier to agree than to fight her.
Satisfied I was listening, she shut the door and ran around the other side, getting in and then scooting over to sit in the middle seat.
A man got in on her other side and instantly put his hand on her thigh reassuringly.
I flinched at the contact, even though it wasn’t me he was touching.
Not noticing my discomfort, he squeezed her leg possessively, but she didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she put her hand over his and linked their fingers. With her other arm resting on the back of the driver’s seat, she leaned forward, speaking to the two men in the front. “No hospital. But she needs medical treatment. That head wound is bad, it needs cleaning and stitches.”
The big blond man in the passenger seat spoke up. “We can take her to Hawk. He’s no doctor, but his stitches are the neatest out of all of us. We’ve got all the supplies there already. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll do the job.”
Rebel sat back and nodded. “Okay, let’s do that then.” She turned to me. “We’re going to get you some help, okay? And some food, a hot shower, and then we’ll plan how to get your baby back.”
I swallowed thickly. It all sounded so good.
Too good. There had to be a catch. There always was.
But I nodded anyway, unable to find the words to thank her.
She didn’t seem to need it. She let me be, the car lapsing into silence as we turned off a main road, onto one that was lined with trees and thick woods. The sun sat high, shining brightly in a deep-blue sky that didn’t fit the somber mood in the car.
Still, I stared out the window silently, numb from head to toe. A high fence with a barbed-wire coil on top edged the road, and I idly wondered if there was a prison on the other side. Maybe their friend, Hawk, worked at the prison infirmary. They’d said it was fully stocked, so that would make sense. Could they do that? Just walk me inside a prison for medical treatment? I wasn’t sure I wanted to be around criminals, but I did need stitches. My hair, at least what was left of it, was coated in sticky blood.
I didn’t trust anyone anymore, but if Rebel was my sister, surely, she wouldn’t be leading me into danger. I had to believe she’d get me in and out of this prison safely.
My head pounded. It was a strange sensation to be numb everywhere, but in pain at the same time.
It was another ten or so minutes before Rebel pointed ahead, her voice full of worry. “We’re here. Just hang in there, we’ll get you some pain relief really soon.”
I twisted to where she was indicating, searching for the prison signs.
There were none.
A set of thick black gates loomed ahead instead.
In the middle, crafted from metal, a hooded demon wore a Saint View Slayers MC vest, a scythe clutched in his hand.
“No,” I whispered, cringing away in fear. I snapped my head to the man in the passenger seat and his black leather vest.
When he turned to look back at me, the same emblem stared me in the face from the patch on his chest.
He was one of them.
They’d chased the ambulance Caleb had stolen.
He was one of the men who’d killed Hayden.
Panic spiked inside me, clutching at my chest. “No!” The gates slowly opened. I struggled with the door handle, trying to get out, but it was locked, and no amount of switching the locks seemed to do anything. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“Kara, it’s okay. Shh—” Rebel tried to calm me, but I’d seen those men, following us in the dark, pouncing on Hayden when he’d sacrificed himself. They’d wanted him dead. Maybe me too.
There’d been rounds of gunfire as we’d escaped in the ambulance. My friends, the other women held captive with me, had been left behind to die at the hands of these men.
Rebel was the same. She’d killed a man right in front of me, and then they’d covered it up like it was something they did regularly.
Who were these people?
