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He kneeled before me, keeping his head lowered and his neck exposed. “You have a visitor. Luke Grime.”
“Send him in.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I reached for a bottle of whiskey and twisted off the cap, chugging several swallows as the burn slid down my throat.
“Undertaker.”
“Why are you here?” I growled.
Luke and his brother Nick were pests. I didn’t care that one of the Devil’s Murder members had murdered Nick. He was unworthy.
“I brought you a gift.”
Intrigued, I set the whiskey aside. “What gift?”
“I think it’s best to show you.”
The vargulf didn’t like surprises. His anger rumbled my chest.
“I promise this is a gift you’ll enjoy.”
“If you’re wrong, I will feast on your entrails.”
EVERYTHING HURT. EVERYpart of my body pulsed with waves of agony that relentlessly pounded into my skull, stealing my breath whenever I attempted to move.
The pain was what awakened me. It assaulted my senses and lashed at each nerve. Just breathing stole me from consciousness, and I had no idea how many hours or days I struggled and fought to clear the fog in my head.
My eyes cracked open, and I could see the white crescent of the moon’s shape through the window above my head. Stars twinkled in the dark sky but didn’t help me remember where I was or how I arrived there.
Steel bars lined the room across from where I stood, anchored to the wall. Someone shackled my wrists and ankles using long ropes of thick chains. To my left, a dirty cot beckoned, promising comfort, but I didn’t have the energy or the ability to reach it. The chains were too taut.
That was probably a good thing because the chains had to be the only thing keeping me upright. I glanced down the length of my torso, cataloging my injuries. Dirt and dried blood crusted over my skin in multiple spots. My bare chest was mottled with bruises. No shirt and no cut.
Fuck.
I tried to suck in a breath and wheezed. A tiny rattle in my chest followed. And then. . .pain.
The edges of my vision blurred. When my head fell forward, I knew I would pass out again.
The endless cycle continued. I would wake, attempt to breathe or move, and lose the fight, tumbling into blissful rest where the pain couldn’t reach me. In those moments, Gail appeared.
Every single fucking time, I would end up in that barn with her again. Her warmth would surround and comfort me. I would feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips and the plunge of my cock into her welcoming, tight pussy.
Torture. Every time it happened, I woke in the cold, empty cell. At some point, an IV had been stuck into my right arm. The hydration, what little trickled into my veins, kept me alive. I knew I had lost time. It had to be days—maybe weeks.
My stomach grumbled as my head lolled, hanging as I lacked the strength to lift it. Would I rot in here and never see Gail again?
Gail. Beautiful. I need you.
Cold water splashed my face, and I woke with a jolt, staring into unfamiliar eyes.
“There you are, you stinky fucker. Awake now, huh?”
I stared at the asshole with sandy brown hair and cold, dark eyes. “Who are you?” I asked, slurring my words.
“Ah, not yet.”
