by Jessica Ames
“You’re bleeding like a pig.”
“I know,” I grit my teeth, my frustration flaring to life. What the fuck is his point?
“So, take a moment to get patched up. Then we’ll worry about Lucy.”
Time might not be a luxury she has. I have no idea what Isaac Blackwood will do to her and that makes my stomach roll. If he harms one hair on her fucking head, I’ll gut him. I don’t give a fuck if it starts a full-blown war. Blackwood already lit the first flames when he fucking shot me.
“I’m worried about Lucy now. Blackwood ain’t exactly well rounded. We should be following her.”
Whizz pushes me back onto the bed.
“Sit your arse down. You can’t do shit if you’re bleeding out, can you?”
I scowl, irritated that he’s right, and frustrated by the inaction.
“We know where he’s going,” Rav says. “We’ll get her back.”
In what condition. That’s my worry.
25
Lucy
The drive up to the house has my skin crawling. It’s as ostentatious as I remember and while it should represent freedom, all I see is a cage, trying to keep me locked away. The building is huge, whitewashed with numerous latticed windows on the front and two large columns holding up the roof over the doorway. The circular driveway is filled with sleek black cars that are parked neatly, giving us enough space to move past them and pull up outside the double front doors.
Isaac climbs out of the car as soon as it stops and he drags me to the edge of the seat before tugging me out.
I stumble out of the car door, falling onto the gravel and I throw my hands out to protect my fall. Sharp edges slice through my palms and I can’t stop the gasp of pain that escapes from my mouth as old fears arise, tumbling in my belly as Isaac grabs me by my nape, pulling me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
His grip on the back of my neck has my shoulders moving up to my ears, as if I can protect myself. When he finally releases me, I let my shoulders relax and I peer up at the house. Ice settles in my gut as I get closer to it, fear dancing along my spine. This is the last place I want to be. It’s the last place I thought I would ever be again. Memories of the past assault my mind, making my hands tremble as my dread claws its way up my spine.
Isaac’s heat burns through my skin, and his grip is iron-clad as he tugs me towards the house. I shuffle after him, shock of what is happening making my legs leaden, my movements sloppy. I have no idea what will happen when we get behind those doors, but the roiling of my stomach tells me instinctively it will not be good. He’s already hurt me. The throb in my cheek matches the frantic pounding of my heart, and my lip is swollen, blood trickling down my chin onto my t-shirt like bloody rain. I can feel the skin tightening over my bones, hot and stretched as my cheek swells. I will have to look the devil in the eye and beg his forgiveness. I also know that forgiveness will not be granted.
I’m pushed inside the house and directed to the left, towards the informal sitting room—the one we didn’t use when guests came around.
“Check for casualties,” Isaac snaps over his shoulders to Leon, who is walking behind us, “and prepare for war. I want those bikers destroyed like the cockroaches they are.”
My heart skips a beat, cold filling my veins. Fear makes me stumble and he jerks on my arm to right me. The pain that shoots up my shoulder has me biting on my bottom lip to stop from crying out until blood pools in my mouth. The metallic tang of it is weirdly reassuring. It tells me I’m still alive and that I still have breath in my body to fight him.
And I will fight him this time. I’m not the meek little girl who left him. I’m changed, different. I have shit to live for this time.
He shoves me and I sprawl onto the floor, my knees jarring as they hit the wooden floorboards. This time, the cry escapes and I’m helpless to stop it.
But I don’t give myself time to recover, twisting so I’m facing him. Having my back to him always makes me anxious. Isaac is a man who needs to be in my line of sight always.
“So, you whored yourself out? Left me for some filthy biker?”
His words piss me off. I want to spit out that Nox is twice the man he is, but I can’t.
“Nox has got some kind of hero complex. He didn’t touch me.” The lie falls from my lips so easily, twisting the dagger further into my heart, but I’ll die protecting Nox and the club. Isaac will never get the truth from me.
I watch as his lips pull into a snarl, like a wild animal tasting blood for the first time. His hand flicks out, striking me across the face and my head snaps to the side. My tongue rattles against my teeth and I feel something warm running from my nose. I don’t care what he does to me. He no longer has the power to keep me scared.
I hate him.
I hate him with a fiery rage that burns through my body, destroying everything it touches.
“I’m not lying. I just had a job there, working in the bar,” I grind out.
Isaac peers at me, uncertainty crossing his face and I internally smile at the fact he’s falling for my lies, or so I think.
Without warning, his foot lashes out, catching me in the ribs and I cry as pain explodes through my chest. I struggle to get up, to protect myself, my arm wrapping around my middle.
“Lying bitch.” I groan as I cradle my ribs. “Do you know what a humiliation it was losing my wife? I looked for you for years.”
“I bet you hated that I outsmarted you,” I gasp out, trying to draw air around my bruised lungs.
He bends at the middle, so he can get closer and roars in my face. “What the fuck did you say?”
I shake my head, letting the rage run free. “Threats don’t work anymore, Isaac. I’m not the same Natasha who left you.”
The snarl returns, marring his ugly face even more. Then I’m roughly dragged up and pushed face down onto the sofa.
“You stupid bitch.”
I feel his fingers at the waistband of my jeans and I thrash against him, but his hold is too secure. I can’t move as he tugs them down my legs, my underwear coming with it.
I fight him, because what else is there to do? I won’t allow him to take another piece of me again, not when all my pieces belong to Nox. I won’t allow him to defile me, to take what he wants. Not without a fight. It doesn’t matter that I’m going to lose this one. He’s bigger than me, stronger, always had the advantage—even in the past. But I’ve never fought him before when he tried to take what he wanted. I would lie there, paralysed with fear. Now, I’m like a wild cat, thrashing beneath him, trying to claw at any piece of skin I can find. I don’t know if I meet my mark, but I continue to fight against him.
One meaty hand comes up and captures both my wrists behind my back, taking all my power from me. Face down, I can do nothing as he pulls his trousers down.
“Boss.”
I recognise the voice. Elijah.
“What?” Isaac growls, still on top of me. His aftershave tickles my nostrils, making me feel sick.
“It can wait, Sir.”
Isaac looks down at me, a sick, sadistic smile curling his lips.
“We’ll finish this later, wife.” He gets off me and I hear the clanging of his belt as he does his trousers back up. “Get fucking dressed,” he snaps out when I don’t move and I jump, ignoring the way my ribs scream as I quickly shift, so I can tug up my jeans.
I barely have them in place when motion catches my attention. I glance up as Isaac’s fist comes towards my face, smashing against my temple. My vision blurs as my ears ring and darkness starts to overtake me. Nox’s smiling face dances in front of me before the darkness swallows me.
26
Nox
The wound to my shoulder hurts like a fucker. Thank fuck it just grazed, my bicep taking most of the damage. Rav gives me a bottle of whiskey to numb the pain, but I don’t drink it. I need to be clear headed. My driving need to get to Lucy is already clouding enough of my judgement without adding booze to the mix.
“Hold this while I get the lidocaine,” Whizz says as he presses a piece of gauze over the top of the wound, pushing my hand against it.
Fire blazes through the area the moment he touches it. I have to grit my teeth to keep my groan locked behind them. It’s nothing compared to the pain gnawing at my gut, the pain of having Lucy taken from me, of her betrayal, of loving her but hating the lies she’s told.
“That’s not going to knock me out, right?” I sound a little breathless as I speak. The smell of my blood in the air is clogging the back of my throat.
“It’s just a local anaesthetic, brother. I don’t think you want me cleaning it out and sewing you back up without it.”
I nod, telling him it’s okay to proceed and he steps over to one of the cabinets. Inside, there’s enough drugs to rival a fucking pharmacy. I watch him rummaging for a moment before I bring my gaze to Rav who is eyeballing me like I’m a feral animal. I do feel on the edge, but I’m not in danger of going over it.
“We need a plan here, Nox. Know you want to go in there all guns blazing, but I ain’t burying you.”
I understand his hesitation. If I was in the right frame of mind, I would share it, but all I can think about is what Isaac Blackwood is doing to Lucy. It makes my stomach churn and my mouth feel like I have cloth stuffed against my tongue. I’ve seen my share of demons in men’s eyes. Hell, half of my brothers have them reflecting in their own, but the darkness in Blackwood is something else.
Whizz moves to my side and draws up a syringe with the lidocaine. He pulls my hand away and blood spurts down my arm, adding to the dark stains already there.
He meets my eyes, and I can see he’s in full doctor mode as he says, “This might sting a little.”
Without waiting for me to say anything else, he sticks the needle into my flesh. It more than stings. It fucking burns through the already sensitive area. I roar out a curse.
Gritting my teeth, I try to keep grounded as he injects around the site of the wound. Every stab of the needle is like a knife sliding through my flesh. The pain helps me stay focused, helps me remember what I’m fighting for.
Taking a steadying breath, I turn back to Rav.
“I don’t want to go in guns blazing, but I’m getting Lucy back. Come, don’t come—it’s up to you.”
I watch the irritation sweep over Rav’s face, watch as my best friend tries to keep a lid on his anger.
He manages to grind out, “We need to be smart about this,” although I can see it’s taking everything he has not to lose his shit.
Join the club. My patience is hanging on by a fucking thread. If it wasn’t for the fact I’m bleeding everywhere, I’d already be halfway to Blackwood’s compound.
“How?”
Rav scrubs a hand over his beard, his rings glinting under the fluorescent lighting. “This shit is bigger than her just being married to that fuckhead. He fucking shot you. If we weren’t at war before, we sure as shit are now.”
He’s right. This isn’t just about Lucy anymore. It’s bigger than that. Isaac Blackwood came to our house and put a bullet in an Untamed Sons patch, and not just any patched member, but the VP. We have to retaliate or risk looking weak.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it right,” he continues. “I don’t want this cunt coming back in a couple of months and razing the clubhouse. I don’t want us watching our backs either.”
I know what he’s suggesting and it’s a dangerous—not to mention difficult—plan.
“I’m going to start now,” Whizz says, cutting through the pregnant silence building between me and Rav.
I wave a hand, telling him to get on with it. The sooner I’m patched up, the sooner I can go after Lucy.
“You want to get rid of our Blackwood problem permanently?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. That’s more than a motion to war. It’s annihilation. What he’s talking about doing won’t be easy and it could drag us into a drawn-out battle that could span years—longer. It could put us in more danger, but Blackwood is never going to let Lucy go and if he thinks I touched her, he’s going to keep coming back at me to seek revenge.
“He’s a threat.”
“To me,” I counter. “Not the club.”
“You are the fucking club.”
I rub at my chest, which suddenly feels tighter. My lungs burn fiercely as I draw in air through my teeth.
“We go after Blackwood, he’s going to rain hell down on us.”
Rav’s face contorts. “And we’ll rain it back twice as hard.”
I wipe at the layer of sweat covering my brow before I say, “So, we need a plan.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. If you weren’t acting like such a pussy over a little bullet you would have heard it.” Rav smirks, making my own lips twitch.
“You’re lucky it’s just a fucking graze,” Whizz mutters as he tosses a balled up blood-soaked cloth into a metal bowl on a small wheeled table.
Whizz grabs my uninjured arm, his grip hard, unyielding. His eyes are as serious as I’ve ever seen them.
“Whatever happens,” he says, “we’ve got your back, brother. You ain’t facing this shit alone.”
My words stick in my throat, and I can hardly swallow past the lump forming there. This is what club is. Solidarity, loyalty, even in the face of disaster.
I swallow hard and mutter out, “You done?”
Whizz stares at me a beat before pulling his gaze. “Need to stitch you up first. You might feel some tugging, but tell me if you feel any pain.”
“How long’s that going to take?”
“As long as it takes. Quit bitching.”
I scowl as frustration fizzles through my veins. Itchy need makes me anxious to leave, but I sit like a good patient and let Whizz do what he needs to, even though my heart is fluttering in my chest, getting stronger as the minutes tick by.
“Had my doubts about her,” Rav says and my anger flares at his words.
“The fuck?”
He holds up a hand. “Had my doubts. Don’t have them anymore. That woman stood between you and Blackwood. Lied to fucking save you.”
She’d lied and said there was nothing between us. It had hurt like an axe to the chest at the time, hearing her denying us, but I knew why she did it. I know why she made out she was just here for a job. I’d thrown a gun at her and told her to put a bullet in me before her husband did. Lucy had done what she could to protect me. If her eyes didn’t tell me, her actions did. Lucy fucking loves me, and I love her. I won’t leave her to whatever fate that sick cunt has planned for her. Even if I hated her, I could never leave her to him. Fuck it would be easier if I did, but she fucking claimed me in a way I never thought was possible.
As soon as the last stitch is in place, I slide off the bed, my legs buckling for a moment before I’m able to steady myself. I’m like a day-old fawn, trying to walk on spindled-legs. Whizz reaches out, but I brush him off. I don’t need coddling.
“As your doctor, I’d suggest you rest that arm, but I know there ain’t a chance in hell you’re going to listen.”
I snort at his correct assumption. I turn to Rav and he surprises the shit out of me when he says, “Let’s go and get your girl back. What the fuck she sees in your ugly mug, I don’t know.”
Fuck, it’s good to be on the same side again.
27
Lucy
Leon takes me upstairs to my old room, the one I used to share with Isaac. He gives me a savage smirk that makes the scar on his face look more sinister before he locks me inside. I don’t fight. What would be the point? There’s nowhere to go and I’m already hurt from Isaac’s temper lashing out earlier. Every inch of my body aches and every time I suck in air, it feels like shards of glass are ripping through my chest.
I take in the emptiness of the room with a sombre glance. I feel as if the walls are closing in. A chill races up my arms and settles at the base of my spine as the silence shrouds me.
Our former bedroom is
the last place I want to be. I left my nightmares behind, or I thought I did. Right now, I’m in a waking night terror. My stomach churns viciously as I move to the door and try the handle, even though I know it won’t open. Unsurprisingly, the door doesn’t budge. Desperation stalks on my heels as I stand there, staring at it helplessly, realising once again I’m trapped under Isaac’s force.
I move to the window and shove the curtains aside. It’s not an ideal plan, but if I have to shimmy down the drainpipe, I will.
Metal bars greet me, beyond that there’s a tantalising view of the sculpted front gardens, the driveway, the gate beyond—and freedom.
I swallow hard, my fingers trembling on the silky material of the curtains.
He put bars on the fucking windows of our old bedroom.
He’s insane.
I stagger back, my heart hammering in my chest. Why has he brought me here, to our old room? He’s clearly angry with me, so why doesn’t my accommodation reflect that?
I can smell Isaac in this room. His aftershave and the scent that is just him lingers in the air, a reminder of where I am and who has me. It makes my stomach roll and bile climb up my throat. I want to vomit when I think about the fact that I’m trapped again. After so many years breathing free air, the monster has finally caught the little bird and put it back in its gilded cage.
I rub up my arms and feeling small, I peer around the familiar décor. It hasn’t changed since I was last here. The same furniture sits in the space—a king-sized bed with pale blue coverings, curve legged bedside tables, and a dresser in the same style on the opposite wall. There’s a luxurious love-seat at the end of the bed and a huge walk-in closet in the far corner that was once filled with mine and his clothes. As I wander over and look inside, I see my dresses are still hanging up, left just as they were when I escaped this hell.
He kept it all, like a shrine to what we once were.
