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My head hurt and my lungs burned from holding my breath. As my eyes started to water, I stared into Mr. Big and Mighty’s golden hazel eyes, wishing for him to drop dead at that moment.
He didn’t.
Seconds ticked by and black spots tunneled through the edges of my vision. With a firm shake of my head, I tried to dislodge the cloth so I could get a breath of fresh untainted air, but it was like trying to stop a train from careening off its tracks.
I wasn’t an Olympic diver. I had to breathe at some point, and as much as I tried to stop it, my body decided for me.
The sweet, flowery scent washed over me, and the world started to spin. My vision dimmed as the darkness encroached. Then everything went black and swallowed me whole.
This wasn’t good.
Not at all.
CHAPTER 23
Kaci
Where the fuck was I?
A dull, throbbing pain radiated from my temple, causing me to wince. Was I the one that got punched? Because it certainly felt like it. I didn’t remember drinking much either, so this wasn’t the hangover of all hangovers.
My hands fumbled in the darkness, and I came to the terrifying conclusion that my wrists were bound together. Panic surged as fragmented memories of the drug-soaked rag pressed over my nose and mouth began to come together in my head. The rogues had taken me hostage.
Couldn’t I just have one day off from this shit? Justone?
I groaned as I opened my eyes, but that was too much for me. I closed them again, allowing my head to lull forward as I contemplated exactly how fucked I was.
This wasn’t just a little fucked. This was a whole lotta fucked. Like fucked in the ass with no lube with a big ol’ ten-inch dick kinda fucked.
What the hell could I do now?
Eventually, I worked my eyes open and blinked several times, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Once they adjusted to the light, I realized that I was seated in a hard wooden chair in a confined, dimly lit room. My wrists were bound with coarse rope behind my back while my ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. The air was heavy with humidity and carried a stale, mildewy scent. Nothing about the room was familiar, nor was there anything on the walls or even a window to hint as to where I’d been taken.
I didn’t really know anything about the rogue pack other than the fact that they existed, and they likely wanted me dead, probably because of some turf war between Caelum’s pack and theirs or some dumb gangsta shit like that.
Fuck this week right in the eye socket.
I was grumpy. If Ry saw me right now, he’d probably slap my ass and fuck that mood right out of me. For some reason, thinking about him made me feel better, and I sighed and leaned back in the chair.
It creaked.
I moved, and it creaked again, but it didn’t just creak… I felt it shudder. This wooden chair was in danger of falling apart. Slowly, I rocked the chair back and forth. I gritted my teeth as I tried to loosen my restraints, each wobble and creak enough to send my nerves fluttering with anxiety.
As I struggled against my bonds, the sound of low voices began to drift in from somewhere beyond my tiny prison room, and I stilled. The chair made one last groaning creak, and I closed my eyes, holding my breath and hoping whoever was beyond the threshold of this room hadn’t heard what I was doing.
At first, the words were muffled, but I could tell that they carried an air of hushed urgency. I strained in my chair to listen, hoping for some clue as to my whereabouts and whatever danger lurked for me around the corner.
Hopefully, it wasn’t death. I’d likenotto die today.
As far as I could make out, it was a group of men talking to one another, and the topic of the conversation was me, because of course it was. I’d been the topic of everybody’s conversation for days.
Luckyme.
“The girl is from an ancient bloodline. Silvermane they say,” one voice whispered, his tone bearing an undercurrent of annoyingly awed reverence mixed with a tinge of greed.
I stilled, furrowing my brow in confusion. Ancient bloodline? What were they talking about?
“Silvermane? I haven’t heard that surname in a long time. I thought that shifter line had died out ages ago,” a second voice chimed in.
