by Bella Jewel
“I have it. I’ll give it to someone you trust, if you don’t trust me. You know how much she means to me, Enzo. Just because you’re a piece of shit doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’d lay my life on the line for that girl, and you know it.”
“You’re not givin’ him a fuckin’ cent,” I growl.
Chantelle looks to me. “While I appreciate you being here, this is between me and Enzo. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, and if you fuckers had taken care of her in the first place, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Be very fuckin’ careful,” I warn.
“Or what? You’ll get me in the shit too? I have the cash; if that’s what they want, that’s what I’ll give to them. Saskia is my best friend, do you understand, my best friend in the whole wide world. That might not mean much to you, but it’s everything to me now.” She looks back to Enzo. “I will pay to get her out. It’s up to you if you trust me or not.”
The two of them lock eyes for what seems like forever, and then he finally mutters, “Give you twelve hours to get the cash to my guy, if I find out you don’t, I will come after you, Chantelle. I know everything about you, and I will make you wish you were never fuckin’ born.”
She stares at him, then nods. “Fair deal. Give me the details of your guy, and I’ll have the cash delivered. Now, where in the hell is Saskia?”
The stupid fuck gives us the details of the men chasing him for cash, and then the details of who he wants the cash delivered to.
When we step out the door of the prison, I fall in step beside Chantelle. “You’re not givin’ him the cash, are you?”
“Oh, hell no,” she says, flicking her hair. “Enzo doesn’t scare me. He’s stupid. I knew he was stupid. It worked. You getting angry at me made it even better because he believed I was serious. Now, let’s go get my girl back. We’ll deal with him later.”
Yeah.
I think I fucking like Saskia’s best friend, too.
~25~
SASKIA
Everything hurts.
I don’t say that lightly.
It’s been one day, which, in the scheme of things isn’t a long time at all, but to me, it feels like an eternity. One whole day of sitting down here, chained up, in agony, unable to stop the pain and wondering when the next blow is going to come. No food. No water. I’m tired, but there is no way I’d dare shut my eyes. The moment I do, I’m scared of what will happen. So, I sit here, trying to think away the pain, and praying someone finds me soon.
They have to know by now.
They have to.
Chantelle would have figured it out, and she would have gone to them, right?
She’d be smart enough to do that, wouldn’t she? God, I pray that she would, but I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. I mean, I did sit there and tell her I never wanted to see Mason or that club again. But surely, in times like this, she would think they’re the only people who might know where I am.
Maybe she went to Enzo.
I hope not, because that would get me in more trouble if he decided to cause a scene.
I wonder if the club still has Yolanda, and I wonder what they’re doing to her.
Whatever it is, I hope it hurts.
I hate to say that about my own sister, but the fact of it all is, she doesn’t care about me, not even a little. We might be two halves of one egg, but we’re nothing alike. She’s missing something. Maybe I got the emotional part of the egg, the one that cares and is kind to others, and she got the empty shell, the emotionless pit, the broken part. Because why else could someone be so cruel to someone? Especially when that someone is family.
Her twin sister.
I might dislike her, but I would have never gone out of my way to hurt her or get her into trouble.
Not ever.
My heart aches. It aches because outside of Chantelle, I suddenly feel like there isn’t a single person out there who truly cares for me anymore, and that’s an empty, rather lonely feeling.
I’m here, chained up, hurt, and so incredibly alone.
So, so alone.
That hurts the most.
The door opens, and I jerk my head up, my heart racing, my body going on instant alert. Blondie walks in, alone this time. He stares at me on the ground and narrows his eyes. “Your little boyfriend has said he’ll have the cash, and more, to me in twelve hours, so I’m going to keep you alive until then. Usually, I wouldn’t allow this, but I need the cash so he gets to stay alive, and you, for twelve hours more. When I get what’s owed to me, I’m going to put a bullet in his skull when he’s let out of prison, but he doesn’t know that, and you’re never going to get the chance to tell him, because once the cash is in my hands, a bullet is going into your brain, too.”
I didn’t know what I’d expect the day I was told I’m going to die.
You hear it in the movies—people have cancer, or an illness, and they get told that heart wrenching news—but I never thought I would hear the words.
Never.
Not me.
But that’s always the way, isn’t it? You never think it’s going to be something you hear.
It’s always something you think will never happen to you.
But it is happening to me. Twelve hours. I even got a time frame.
I’d like to go into denial and think it isn’t going to happen to me, that someone will rush in and save the day, but the fact of the matter is that twelve hours is not long, not really, and if they don’t find me in time. I know, I can one hundred percent guarantee, that I’ll die at the end of it.
These kinds of men, they don’t mess around. You’re crazy if you think they do.
I swallow the thick lump in my throat and try not to show any sort of fear or reaction, but I’m certain he can see it on my face.
“I might even enjoy you a little bit, first,” he murmurs, running his eyes up and down my body. “Really send a message.”
Vomit rises up in my throat. That thought probably scares me more than dying. Dying is quick, it’s over when it’s over and that’s the end. But torture like that when you have no control, when you can’t stop it, that’s terrifying. Having someone take control of my body and me being unable to stop them makes me physically ill.
And more scared than I’ve ever been in my life.
What if nobody finds me in time?
That reality is harsh and scarily the more likely scenario. Even if they have been made aware that I’m gone, I could be anywhere, anywhere at all, and they wouldn’t find me. Or, if they did find me, it could take them days. Even if they got a name, they’d still have to track these men down. I know how this all works, and it isn’t a process that comes quickly or easily.
My fingers are trembling, and even though they’re completely numb, I can feel it to my very core.
I’m so afraid.
And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about it.
I’ve always been a fighter, but how do you fight when you’re given such a short amount of time to do so?
“Scared, little girl?” Blondie laughs. “You should be. I won’t make it quick, I’ll make sure everyone knows never to mess with me. Should have thought twice before involving yourself with a piece of crap like that.”
He’s right.
I certainly should have.
But that’s neither here nor there.
“I bet you’d have a sweet little pussy, too.”
I cringe and my skin prickles.
I might not be able to escape death, but I will fight as hard as my weak body will allow when it comes to him trying to take something that is absolutely not his to take. If he even tries to remove my clothes or put his filthy hands on my body, I will do everything I can to stop him. I don’t care how much it hurts. Hell, I don’t even care if it kills me, because god knows they’re going to try and kill me anyway. I won’t go down letting their greasy hands touch me.
Never.
Not fucking ever.
“I bet,” I cro
ak, my voice hoarse from lack of water, “that if you even try and put your filthy hands on me, I will make it burn, one way or another, I’ll make it burn.”
He snorts and crosses his arms. “How do you suppose you’ll do that when I’m holding you down?”
“I don’t know, but I assure you, I will.”
“You’re getting a bullet in” —he glances at his watch— “eleven hours and forty two minutes. Does it really matter what happens before that?”
I glare at him, and my eyes don’t waver when I say, “Kill me, suck the life out of me, but I won’t go down without a fight, I promise you that. If you put your hands on me, I will do everything I can to stop you.”
He grins, evil and sick. “I like a good challenge. I like it even better when they fight, it turns me on. So, fight away, little lady. We’re going to have some fun with you.”
I will fight. God dammit. I’m so scared I can’t feel my own body, my heart is racing, and the fear is clutching my heart like a damned pair of angry hands, but I will fight.
If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it knowing I gave it my all.
Because that’s what I do. I give everything my all.
I’m Saskia.
And I do not back down.
Ever.
~*~*~*~
MASON
“We’ve got twelve hours, because when they find out Enzo has done them wrong again, they’ll kill Saskia without hesitation,” I say, crossing my arms. “We told Enzo we’d have the cash, which means they’ll inform whoever has Saskia, the money is coming. If they spare her, that’s our timeframe, we need to move quickly.”
“We’ve got names, we’ve got all our men out on the street lookin’ for a location,” Malakai tells me, “We’re goin’ to find her.”
“And when we do, we’re takin’ this bitch with us,” I growl, glaring at Yolanda who is cuffed and sitting on the sofa at the club. “They might like the idea of a trade.”
Her face whitens, just a touch. “You wouldn’t give an innocent girl to someone, to die...”
I grin at her, and I know it’s cold and heartless. But, when it comes to Saskia, I’d happily hand this bitch over. Without even blinking.
After what she did, she deserves nothing.
“You underestimated this club, that’s going to come back and bite you, Yolanda. Because, we will, happily, hand you over. If you think that the fact you’re a girl makes any difference, you’d be wrong. It means nothing to me, or anyone else in this room. You choose to cross us, then you choose to take the risk that you might have to suffer the consequences. When it comes to Saskia, do not doubt your life means nothing.”
Her mouth drops open slightly, and she looks to Malakai, then to Maverick and Koda, then finally to Boston and three of the other club members standing in the room. Nobody flinches. Nobody defends her. They all just stare at her, in full agreeance with me. She’s nothing to us. We’ve done far worse for the people we love. Saskia, she’s one of us now, and this girl didn’t think twice when throwing her in front of a bus.
“But...but...” Yolanda stammers.
“Hope you learn somethin’ from this, if you live to tell the tale. That’s your sister. Your fuckin’ twin sister. What you did to her, is the lowest of the low. It makes you scum. It makes you one of the ugliest people I’ve ever come across, and I’ve come across a few in my time.”
Shame washes over her face, the first I’ve seen from her. I hope she finally feels remorse for her actions. I hope, if she lives through this, she learns something about being a good person, because the things she’s done to Saskia, are disgusting. It’s not the actions of a kind human, and especially not of family.
She deserves nothing.
No pity.
No sympathy.
Nothing.
“You don’t...you don’t know the full story. You don’t know me. You don’t know our relationship.”
“I know,” I say, stepping closer and holding her eyes, “that Saskia would never do that to you, no matter what your relationship is. And that’s all I need to know. She wouldn’t fuckin’ do it to you. Makes you a piece of shit, that you’d do it to her. End of story.”
Her cheeks flare red and for a split second, it gives her a look of innocence, and she looks exactly like Saskia. And that hurts, it slams me like a fist to the chest, because I should have been better to Saskia, I should have seen what I had right in front of me, because now she’s in danger, and I could lose her. That thought terrifies me.
To my fuckin’ core.
I want her.
And if I get her out of this alive, I’ll fuckin’ well have her.
Forever.
Mine.
One of the club members, Ramon, comes walking through the front doors. He’s an older member, who mostly just joins in for times like this, when he gets some action. Otherwise he spends most of his time at the club house, drinking beer. He has full respect for Malakai, and always does good by us. He’s been out, helping with the search.
“Think I got a lead,” he says, walking over to me and handing me a slip of paper. “Big shipment got delivered here, not too long ago. Managed to get the address after some gentle persuasion,” he grins.
I grin back.
By gentle, he means he fucked someone up until they gave him what he wanted.
“Think it could be where she is, big house, out of town, not many people know where it is. Gotta be at least a place to start.”
I stare down at the address. “Let’s ride, if she’s there, we don’t want to waste a second more of our time. Fuck knows what they’re doin’ to her.”
Malakai nods, and waves a hand, giving everyone the go ahead to move. We all do, Koda grabbing Yolanda and hauling her up to her feet.
“No! You’re not taking me to that house, it’s awful there, no.”
Her voice is high pitched, and hurts my fuckin’ ears.
But it’s her words that hit me the hardest.
I stop and turn, staring her right in the eyes, then I lunge forward and grab her around the throat. “You know where she is?”
She gasps, and then shakes her head. “What? No. No.”
“You just said it’s awful, which means you know. All the more fuckin’ reason’ to throw you in the dragons pit, you bitch. You’re comin’ with us, your time is up.”
“No,” she struggles when I let her go, but she’s no match for Koda. “No please. I’ll tell you anything you need to know, just don’t hand me over to them. No.”
Nobody listens to her.
She knew. All along. Just like we suspected she did.
And she still chose to let Saskia suffer.
So now, it’s her turn.
It’s her time to burn.
~26~
SASKIA
I try to fight them off.
I try so hard my body aches. It burns. It screams.
I squirm, I bite, I thrash, I do anything I can to stop the filthy hands groping at my body. I’ve connected my teeth with flesh more times than I can count, but it hasn’t stopped anyone. I’m helpless, I’m bound, and they’re going to take what they want before they kill me in the morning.
There is nothing I can do.
The agony in my body is out of this world, but my determination is so much stronger. I’ll keep fighting, no matter how much the pain threatens to take me down.
Sweat coats my body, and runs down my face, from the sheer willpower it is taking not to pass out. I am slowly weakening, my body begging me to just stop, to let it rest, to let it sleep, to let it go and give it a break.
But I know if I do that, I’ll never wake up again.
And my strength, everything I’ve ever fought for, will die with me.
I won’t let that happen.
A hand grabs my breast, squeezing angrily, so hard it burns. I spin my head to the side and latch onto the hand that is groping at me, trying to touch what is not okay to touch. My teeth sink into flesh, and I bite so hard the roar
that fills the room gives me a small moment of satisfaction. Just a small moment. Blood pours from the wound on the man’s arm, and it feels good. It feels good to know I caused that.
Another hand grabs hold of my shoulder, trying to force me down onto my back. I swing my head the other way, trying to bite, but the arm is too low. A man leans over me, and I slam my forehead into his, hitting him so hard I nearly knock myself out. It deters him, but only for a moment. Blood runs down my forehead, I know I just split my skin, but I don’t care.
“Get off me,” I hiss. “Get off.”
“You’re a fighter,” Blondie says, standing, watching it all happening. “I’m impressed by that. You’re stronger than any other girl they’ve played with.”
The fact that they’ve done this to other girls, makes me so angry I launch both my bound legs up and hit someone, I don’t know where, but a pained grunt fills the room. I thrash and squirm, until a fist connects with my eye, sending my head spinning to the side. I scream out in pain, and more blood coats my vision. I’m weakening, and I’m so damned afraid of what’s going to happen next.
If I stop fighting, that’s it. It’s over.
A hand reaches for my pants, and jerks them down, until my panties are exposed.
No.
They’re too close.
My heart is racing.
I can’t breathe.
Someone help me.
I thrash and squirm, kick and bite, but the hands keep tugging at my clothes, pulling and jerking, tearing and ripping.
Then there are voices, out of nowhere. My blood-filled eyes open when all the hands suddenly leave my body, and I’m being launched upwards. Blondie has me, there is a gun to my temple, and I’m trying to blink past the blood to see what’s happening. There is yelling, gun shots, and then, a voice I know.
A voice I’ve dreamed of.
A voice I’ve wanted to hear for the last twenty-four hours, so desperately.
I focus, and I see him.
Mason.
Standing in the doorway with Malakai, Koda, and Yolanda.
But he’s all I can see.
Just him.
