Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate.
“This'll make the trip easier.” His voice carries the weight of finality—the sound death might make when it comes to collect.
“Where?” I push the question past the terror closing my windpipe, because this man radiates something wrong. Something that makes my bones want to crawl out of my skin.
“Somewhere your sister can't follow.”
The needle breaks skin.
Cold spreads through me—liquid nitrogen in my veins, freezing me from the inside out. Everything narrows. The edges of my vision blur and darken. The basement tips, floor becoming wall.
Millie's voice tears through the air. The words dissolve into noise, meaningless and distant.
Olive.
I'm sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry.
The world goes black.
Light. Harsh and unforgiving.
My eyes crack open. Everything's too bright. Too sharp.
What — I try to move. Can't. Not because of restraints this time. My limbs won't respond. Like someone cut all the wires connecting my brain to my body. Drugged. Still drugged. My mind churns, sluggish, clawing through the fog. What the fuck did they pump into me? I want to scream, to fight, but my body’s a traitor, lying limp like a broken doll.
Cold air hits my skin. All of my skin.
Naked.
I'm naked.
Lying on rough ground. Asphalt or concrete, maybe. Something hard and unforgiving beneath me. It scrapes against my back, biting into raw flesh. I can’t even flinch. Humiliation burns hotter than the chill, searing through the haze. They stripped me. Left me like trash. My stomach twists, but even that feels distant, muted by whatever’s still coursing through my veins.
Voices drift from somewhere nearby. Muffled. Distant. I strain to hear them, my head pounding with the effort. Can’t tell if they’re coming closer or fading away. Doesn’t matter. I’m exposed, helpless, and every second out here feels like a fucking eternity.
I force my eyes to focus. Shapes resolve slowly. A metal fence. Trees beyond it. And above — the gate.
Woodsmen clubhouse gate.
They dumped me at the clubhouse.
My face feels sticky. Wet.
I try to lift my hand. It moves this time, but slowly. Like I'm moving through molasses.
My fingers touch my forehead. Come away red.
Blood. More blood.
The sound of engines roars in the distance. Growing closer.
I try to sit up, my body screaming in protest. Have to. Have to see what they did. Have to — engines cut off. Boots hit pavement.
“Fuck.” The voice is raw. Broken.
Hella.
A moment later, something soft settles over me. Hella's cut. I recognize the leather. The weight of it. The way it smells like him.
Then hands—warm, gentle hands—lifting me. Cradling me against a chest that smells like leather and cigarettes and home.
“I've got you.” Hella's voice cracks. “I've got you. You're safe. You're—fuck, what did they do to you?”
I try to speak. Can't. My tongue feels too thick. The drugs are working through my system.
His hand cups my face. Tilts it up. His eyes—those bright blue eyes I've been trying so hard not to love—stare down at me with something that looks like terror.
“What's on her face?” That's Beast. Somewhere behind Hella. “Is that—”
“Yes.” Hella's voice goes flat. Dead.
“No.” Beast sounds like he's seen a ghost. “That's not possible. They're—”
“Real.” Hella cuts him off.
I force my hand up. Grab Hella's vest. He looks down at me immediately.
“Millie.” The word comes out slurred. Wrong. “They have Millie.”
His face goes absolutely still. “Who has her?”
“Triple Zero.” I struggle to make my mouth form the words correctly. “They took her—” I swallow hard, fighting through the drugs. “They're never giving her back.”
Something dangerous flashes through Hella's eyes.
“What's on my face?” I manage to ask.
His jaw tightens. He doesn't want to answer. I can see it in the way his whole body tenses.
“Hella.” I grip his vest tighter. “What did they put on my face?”
“The numbers zero-zero-zero.”
Triple Zero.
Rage cuts through the drug haze. Hot, violent, and all-consuming.
“We have to get her back.” I try to sit up properly. Hella's arms tighten around me, keeping me still. “Hella, we have to—she's my sister—”
“I know.” His hand moves to the back of my head, pressing my face against his chest. “I know, baby. But right now I need to get you inside. Get you cleaned up. Get you—”
“No.” I push back against him. “No, we don't have time. They have her. They're—” My voice breaks. “They're going to hurt her.”
“Melissa.” Beast crouches down next to us. His face is grim. “We need to talk about Triple Zero. About what they are. What they do, but first, we gotta get you inside before your old man kills everyone for seeing you this way, you hear?”
“I know what they do.” The words come out sharp, Beast’s words of Hella being my man flying well over my head. “Millie told me everything. The trafficking. The nuns. All of it.”
Beast and Hella exchange a look that makes my stomach drop.