by Jessica Ames
“Wasn’t spying,” I grind out.
“What where you doing there then?”
Rescuing a girl. “It was personal business.”
Tat guy snorts. “Would that shit wash with your club?”
It really wouldn’t. Respect has to be shown. I underestimated the Sic Bastards, something I’ll never do again.
“You already know the answer to that, boy.”
I shouldn’t poke the bear, but these blokes are pissing me off. Wannabe gangsters without the first clue how to take on a world that will chew them up and spit them back out.
Tat guy doesn’t take well to my slight. He pulls his hand back and slams the knife into my thigh.
I scream out. It’s an instinctive reaction and one I can’t stop. Pain pounds through my leg as blood bubbles around the blade embedded in my flesh, soaking through the denim. Fuck, that hurts. My body starts to shake as I stare down at the knife sticking out of my jeans, unable to comprehend what just happened. Nausea rolls over me and I swallow down bile, but the steady blood flow tells me he hasn’t hit anything major.
“You fucking cunt,” I gasp out, making the chains wrapped around my wrists rattle.
Tat guy smirks, then without warning tears the knife back out of my flesh. I sag against the chains, unable to put weight on the limb. Fuck.
“Why were you in Bastards territory?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
He slams the knife into my other thigh and I see double for a moment. I’m sure I’m going to pass out from the pain, but I force myself to breathe through it. I won’t show weakness. I’m a Sons. I’m better than that.
When he pulls it out this time, I feel blood pooling down my legs.
“Bandage the wounds,” tat guy tells his friend. “Don’t want this shit over too fast now, do we?”
I glare at him, ignoring the sweat beading on my forehead, ignoring the pain radiating through both legs, ignoring everything but the burn of vengeance that I will have before this shit is through. I’m going to kill both men, slowly, and I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.
26
Briella
By the time I hear the rumble of Harleys, I’m nearly hysterical. It’s only been a few minutes since Daimon was snatched—five at the most—but it feels like an eternity has passed. I push up off the ground where I am sitting and scramble to my feet as Levi and what looks like most of the clubhouse pull their bikes up next to where Daimon’s is abandoned.
Levi is first off his bike. He tugs his helmet off as he rushes to my side, his eyes crawling over my face. A snarl greets me as he takes in everything. I haven’t looked at the damage, but I was hit a few times and I can feel the dried blood against my skin. My jaw and cheek are aching fiercely. I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow, but that’s the least of my concerns. Right now, my only focus is on Daimon and getting him back.
“He’s gone, we have to get him back,” I ramble, gripping my brother’s arms as I try to steady my suddenly wobbly legs.
“Who took him?” Ravage demands, coming up next to us. I want to shrink back from the anger radiating off the man, but I hold my ground. I need to do everything in my power to help Daimon.
“Men in ski masks. They were driving a white van.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us, anything that might help?” Levi asks.
Desperation and frustration battle for the upper hand. I shake myself, trying to push through the fog that’s making my brain feel sluggish.
“I don’t know. They didn’t show their faces.”
“Think, Brie,” he presses.
I calm my breathing and let my head empty of thoughts as my eyes shut. Like a trickle, memories start returning. I try to recall if either of them had any discerning features.
My eyes pop open. “One had a tattoo. It was of a snake around a skull.”
Looks go around the men before Fury, the quietest brother, speaks. “Sic Bastards.” His voice rattles out, gravelly and gruff. He scares the shit out of me. Levi has always warned me to be careful around the man, and while I don’t know anything about Fury, I know he gives me the heebie jeebies.
Titch nods. “It’s their insignia.”
“Fuck,” Ravage growls and I can see the tension in his face as he spits the word. He looks a step from meltdown.
“What the fuck would the Bastards want with Daimon?” Whizz demands.
Titch’s eyes come to me. “He pulled Briella out of one of their clubs a few weeks back.”
Ice fills my belly, fear grips my heart. “This is because of me?” I whisper.
“Daimon knew the risks before he went in there,” Levi tries to soothe me, but it’s not working. My heart is racing and my entire body feels clammy. The cool breeze lapping at my skin is helping, but not enough. This is my fault.
“How do we get him back?” I demand.
Ravage snorts. “You don’t. You go back to the clubhouse while we handle this shit.”
“I’m not sitting on the sidelines,” I tell him, not sure where this show of bravery comes from.
“Yeah, darlin’, you are. This shit is nothing to do with you.”
“I created this mess. The least I can do is clean it—”
Levi snags my arm, shutting me up. “Let us handle it, yeah? Trust me.”
I stare at my brother who has clearly lost his mind if he thinks I’m just going to sit in the clubhouse, twiddling my thumbs while Daimon is in trouble.
His grip on my arm tightens to uncomfortable, though not painful, levels. “Do as I say, Brie.”
I want to argue more, but I don’t. I clamp my mouth shut. I know better than to talk back to my brother in front of his club. I know that I have to respect him in public, and I do and I will. Levi gave up so much for me over the years.
“Levi, you take Briella back to the clubhouse.”
My brother nods, seemingly unfazed by being benched, and moves me out of the way as the men move back to their bikes and climb on. The rumbling of their pipes is loud as they start up their engines and one by one the bikes move into a formation to ride out of the parking area. They look fierce. I can see why people are scared of them. Even growing up here for the past two years, I’m still scared of Ravage and Fury. The others keep their darkness at bay, keep their demons hidden. Ravage and Fury wear them like a badge of honour, for all to see.
Levi waits until they’re out of sight before he pulls his phone out and calls Kyle. He asks the prospect to bring the van to pick up Daimon’s bike then hangs up. My stomach is cramping the longer we stand there in that car park, my fear for Daimon making my body tremble.
Levi notices and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Day will be okay. The others will find him and bring him home.”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “I did this, didn’t I?”
He ducks his head, licking his lips before he raises his gaze back to me. My brother has always given me the truth, even when it hurts, so I expect the same now.
“Yeah, Brie. Know you don’t get it, know you don’t like it, but there are rules in this life. Gangs, clubs—their territory is fucking sacred. Daimon walking onto their patch to get you was a fucking prelude to war. Ain’t saying this to make you feel any shittier than you probably already do, but these are the cold, hard facts. You fucked up going there, but Daimon should have cleared that shit before he stepped a foot within their patch. He knew that. Don’t know why he didn’t. I can only assume he didn’t see the Sic Bastards as a threat. Fuck, none of us did. Never imagined they’d take him like this. Sons’ name usually carries some weight.” He runs a thumb over my bruised cheek. “But I fucked up too. I should have told you who to watch out for. I should have been more fucking open, but I didn’t want this shit to touch you.” He shakes his head. We both know, though, that I’m in the thick of this, whether we wanted it or not.
Guilt gnaws at my gut. This is on me. Every hurt inflicted on him is my fault. I don’t know how to live with th
at. Daimon has been nothing short of amazing to me and I put him in this position. My stupid drinking put him here.
Shit.
Levi moves over to his bike and climbs on the back. He signals for me to get up behind him. I use his shoulders to steady myself as I take a seat on the back of his Harley.
He starts the engine, kicks the stand up and then we’re roaring out of the car park. My thoughts are scattered as we ride. I wish I was riding behind Daimon right now. I wish I’d been more careful and hadn’t flouted the club’s rules. I’ve been such an idiot and it’s Daimon paying the price. I can’t get that look of fear out of my head, then how still he went, his body lifeless as they bundled him into the van.
As soon as we reach the clubhouse, pulling into a parking space near the door, I can’t help but notice the lack of bikes. The clubhouse really did empty to find Daimon, and I hope like hell they do. The thought of something happening to him is like a knife to my heart. I need him, I love him. Without him my life just doesn’t make sense.
When we step into the clubhouse common room, Sasha and Lucy are on me. Bailey, Nox’s sister half-rises from the table, where she’s sitting with Lily-May and her two daughters, but she doesn’t come to me, keeping the kids occupied instead.
“Are you all right?” Sasha demands, her eyes scanning my face. “Luce, grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.”
“What happened to Brie-Brie?” Mollie, the younger of Bailey’s girls, asks.
“Nothing, honey. She just fell over,” Bailey says. “You guys keep colouring in, okay?”
“Was she in an acci-me-dent?” Lily-May’s sweet voice pipes in.
“It’s acc-i-dent, and she’s fine,” Sasha assures her. “Be a good girl for Mummy and do as Bailey says.”
She mutters something under her breath but keeps colouring.
The last thing I want to do is scare the kids, so I move my chair, so my back is to them.
Lucy moves, doing as she’s asked. I’m sure Whizz has a proper medical kit, but no one is ever going to go rummaging in his room for it.
Sasha pushes me into a chair near the bar and I feel relieved to get off my wobbly legs.
“What happened?”
I lick my suddenly dry lips, my mouth as dry as the desert.
“Daimon was taken by a gang called the Sic Bastards.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “It’s my fault.”
Sasha places a hand on my arm. “It’s not your fault.”
“He came to get me out of the bar—a bar that is in the Sic Bastards’ territory—so yes, this is absolutely my fault.”
“They could have taken him for any reason, honey. These men make enemies every day of the fucking week. It might have nothing to do with that.”
She’s trying to make me feel better, but it does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.
Lucy returns a moment later with the first aid kit. “That looks like a hell of a hit you took to your face.”
The blood is no longer streaming down my face, but I can imagine I look like something out of a horror movie. Luckily, my top is black, so it hides the evidence of my attack, but my skin is probably still covered in it.
Lucy heads back into the kitchen and returns with a bowl of water and a cloth. The two women clean me up and cover the cut on my head with a piece of gauze. The entire time, I sit there my back ramrod straight trying not to worry if Daimon is dead.
27
Daimon
Every inch of my body hurts. The torture they’re inflicting is crude, but it’s doing the job. They lack the finesse of Fury, of any of my brothers, in fact, but my chest is covered in slashes and sticky blood, and my torso feels like one big bruise from their fists.
Tat guy has lost his fucking mind. He seems intent on inflicting as much pain as he can on me and I kept my strength for a while, but there’s only so much the human body can take. I’m starting to feel the effects of the torture and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I feel the life starting to leave me with every slash of his knife, pouring away with the blood. Dizziness washes over me in waves.
I hang limply from my wrists, the chains around them digging in and creating fresh ruby trails down my arms. I can’t pinpoint a single wound, because everything hurts so badly. My body throbs viciously in time with my heartbeat and vomit crawls up my throat. I can barely see through one eye and every inhalation is like breathing through shards of glass. I’m not ready to give up, not yet, not knowing Brie is waiting for me, but I know my time is running out like sand in an hour glass. I’m using everything I have left to keep fighting. I can hardly keep conscious, my vision winking in and out constantly as I battle with my broken body to stay alert. I refuse to die in some filthy kill room. I refuse to die like a pig strung up on a hook, and I refuse to be taken out by some two-bit London gang.
Briella’s face constantly dances in my wobbly vision, reminding me to stay strong, reminding me of what I will lose if I give up, but even her image is starting to fade in the waves of agony rippling through me. Her beautiful face is becoming distorted. I can hardly tell what’s reality and what’s not anymore. I hear Briella whispering she loves me, the brothers’ voices telling me not to give up, but it all becomes white noise. I float along, not even sure I could escape if the opportunity presented itself.
I’m going to die. This is it.
The realisation slams into my gut like a wrecking ball. I’ve lived a dangerous life. I expected to die young. Never thought I’d make it to thirty, so passing that milestone was a huge deal, but I’m never going to see thirty-two. This is the end of the line for me. The minutes are ticking down to my demise. I don’t see how I get out of this in one piece. These fuckers are going to kill me before my brothers can save me. Even if they do rescue me, I’m not sure it’s not too late.
I have no clue how long I’ve been here, but it feels like an eternity. I’m trying not to give up on the idea of being rescued. The only thing fuelling me is the revenge my brothers will take when they catch these wannabe gangsters. They will torture them for days, keeping them on the edge of pain so they don’t pass out. Fury will skin them alive little by little and rejoice at their screams. Despair was my first emotion. Brie already lost too much and the brothers have faced so much over the past few years. I know my death will rock them, that they’ll feel it like a blade dug into their hearts, but it’s not in my control.
Now, I’m in the acceptance stage. If this is to be my end, then so be it. I hope it comes soon, because I’m not sure how much more of this I can take and I don’t want to break before the end. I won’t break. I’m a Sons and we’re stronger than that.
I swallow hard, my throat working as tat guy comes towards me with his knife, my blood dripping from the end of the blade like the tears I refuse to cry. The light from the bare bulb hanging in the centre of the room glints off the metal as he twists it in his hand. His smile is macabre, grizzly and a little unhinged. He’s high on the blood lust, I’ve seen it before. He’s enjoying this too much, which doesn’t bode well for me.
“I’m going to give you another chance to answer,” tat guy says, “though, I almost hope you don’t. I want to see you bleed some more.”
I grit my teeth, trying to brace for the pain I know will follow. There’s no way I’ll give up my girl. She’s the only light in my darkness.
“Fuck… you.”
He steps forwards and drags the knife across my abdomen. I squeeze my eyes shut and groan before peering down at the shallow wound to my stomach. It crosses an earlier wound he inflicted and fuck, that shit hurts.
“You fucking… cunt,” I grind out. “You’re dead.” I shake against the chains. They don’t rattle, like they did earlier, showing how weak I’ve become.
“You’ve been promising that since we strung your arse up there. So far no one has come to find you. Maybe they just don’t care.” He spits the last word in my face and I wish I wasn’t strung up. I’d beat his stupid face in. The urge to pound his flesh is not one I can
ignore. He’s lost it if he thinks the Sons won’t seek vengeance for each mark they have made on my skin. Everything they have inflicted on me will be returned double.
“Let’s just kill him and get this shit over with,” his friend with the shaved head says. “Don’t want to be here when his club rides in.”
“You think they have a chance of finding us out here?” tat guy’s eyes slide to mine. “We’re off the grid. I’m enjoying watching him bleed.”
He underestimates the ability of my brothers to find me. They’ll be determined and they have the skills and the connections to find out exactly where I’m hidden.
I take a shaky breath, trying to ignore the fire moving along my abdomen, trying to ignore everything but the steady pull of air into my lungs. My vision darkens for longer this time.
“If you want it to stop, all you have to do is tell us what you were doing on our patch.”
I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, when movement behind both men catches my attention. I blink through the blood occluding my eyes and that’s when I see him.
Ravage.
I blink again, but it’s him. If I could smile, I would. He looks like a fucking avenging angel as he stalks towards skinhead guy on silent feet. For a moment, I wonder if I’m hallucinating. Have I finally lost my fucking marbles? Did these cunts break me? I can’t stop the relief I feel, even if I’m seeing shit. I can’t stop from feeling elated joy that this shit is about to be over one way or another.
I expect Rav to disappear as I blink again. He doesn’t and behind him, Nox moves in like a deadly python, ready to strike tat guy at the same time. The brother’s eyes raise and meet mine and I see the anger flare in his gaze. Now, I know I’m not hallucinating. They’re really here.
