Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #3)

by Shelly Morgan

  “Louie, you’re on the computer. Let me know if you see anything happening on the screen. Mack, you and I are at the window. You’ll keep lookout while I run interference to Toby. Everyone ready?” Blaze asks. He’s damn good at this kind of shit, but I suppose he’d better be; he does it for a living. But I will say one thing; he’d make a hell of a leader. Nothing against Tom Tom because he’s a great vice president, but with him getting older, it might be time to talk to Mack about him stepping down and Blaze taking his place.

  “All right, let’s do this, boys,” Toby says before heading down the stairs and out the door.

  Since I’m at the computer, I can’t see him, but I know he’s in good hands and he knows what he’s doing.

  I listen to Mack and Blaze talk back and forth and communicate with Toby, but my main focus is on the screens. I need to be sharp in case something shows up on the cameras.

  Fifteen minutes later, Toby was able to plant five bugs within the clubhouse without trouble. There was no one inside so he was able to work efficiently and quickly. Now, if something happens while they are there, we’ll be able to hear it.

  Toby is on his way back to the house when I see a truck pull up outside of one of the warehouses the Kings have outside of town. It’s their oldest one and was said to be pretty much abandoned. Word is they never go there anymore but want to keep it in case there is an emergency. We weren’t even going to keep an eye on it because we wanted to put our men where we thought we’d be more likely to see something, but Mack and I didn’t like it. We didn’t want to take the chance of missing anything.

  We didn’t have enough men to place someone out there, but since Blaze thought of the idea with the security cameras, I guess now we’re able to watch it. And lucky we are because someone just showed up.

  “Someone just arrived at Warehouse 34,” I say, but I don’t take my eyes off the screen.

  I can hear Toby coming up the stairs and see Blaze and Mack move toward me out of the corner of my eye. And then I see it; a man I’ve never seen before gets out of the driver’s side door and walks over to the passenger side. He’s watching his surroundings, making sure he’s not being followed or watched.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Blaze asks, looking at the screen.

  “He must be one of the members that showed up from outta town. He’s not one of them from around here, that I can tell.” This is from Toby.

  I keep quiet and watch. I don’t like this guy, there’s just something about him. The way he walks and the general vibe coming off of him in waves. He’s up to something.

  Opening the passenger door, he’s out of view for a few moments, then when he comes back in sight, he’s carrying what looks like a body.

  Sitting up straighter, I lean closer, trying to get a good look at the body. Trying to see if I can make out if it’s male or female. But I know it’s her. And when he opens the door to the warehouse, the movement causes the person’s head to roll a little and a mess of long hair falls over his arm.

  Standing up abruptly, my chair flies behind me, falling down onto the floor.

  I don’t stop when Mack orders me to as I fly down the stairs or when Toby asks if I could tell who it is. It’s Harlow, and we all know it. Now it’s time to go get my girl and kill the fucker that took her.

  It’s time for the monster to come out and play.

  Chapter 18

  Harlow

  I feel like I’ve been in and out of it for days, weeks even.

  I start feeling myself wake up and come back into the present, but then the pain overtakes my body and I slip back into the darkness. It’s better there; no pain, no fear, and no hopes of being rescued. I’ve thrown that hope right out the window. I don’t know exactly when I realized I’m not going to be saved and that no one will find me, but I can feel it in my bones now. I’m going to die here.

  When I slip back into consciousness this time, the pain bombards me but the darkness is elusive. It seems just beyond my reach. I want to be taken away again, go back to the numb black hole I was in, but my mind won’t let me this time. It’s like it wants me to suffer—to feel every bruise, every cut, everything that is broken inside me.

  I’m sitting in a hard, cold chair with my arms tied behind my back. My arms hurt from losing blood flow, my leg and head hurts like a bitch and is pounding, and my chest hurts worse than it did before. If I didn’t have a broken rib before, I definitely do now.

  “Rise and shine, Harlow,” Titus says from a distance, but he’s moving closer, that much I can tell.

  Opening my eyes, I take stock of what condition my body is in. I know I hurt everywhere, but I need to see what I’m dealing with.

  The first time I woke up, my ribs hurt. Then, when I went through the table, everything in my back and head hurt. It still does but I can’t focus on any of those injuries. My face is throbbing from the swollen eye, but what I’m curious about is the cut I know that adorns my forehead. Blood is no longer seeping down my face so either he patched me up or it stopped bleeding. My guess would be the latter. Why patch me up if you’re just going to torture and kill me?

  Then there is my leg. Looking down, I notice a bloody bandage wrapped around my leg and what looks like a make-shift tourniquet. He did patch me up. But why? It wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, that much I know for a fact. It was probably so I wouldn’t die from blood loss before he finished whatever he has planned for me.

  Next, I take in my surroundings. We are no longer in the house we were at the last time I was fully awake and trying to run to save my life.

  I try to take everything in to see if I recognize the place, but again, it’s nowhere I’ve ever been before. We are in what looks like a warehouse or storage shed. It’s big and wide open. There are only a few windows and barely anything inside. There is a workbench to my right with a few tools and a box sitting on it. Other than that, there is nothing besides me and Titus.

  “Where are we?” I ask, barely able to get the words out my mouth is so dry.

  “We are at an impasse, if you will. You see, I’ve come to realize that you will not come willingly to me and no matter how much forcing you would be a thrill, you’ll fight till your death. And me, well, I’m not letting you go. You’re mine. So we are at a stalemate at this moment. I’m trying to figure out what it is I want to do with you,” he says, then he’s contemplative.

  “I don’t suppose if I told you that you either submit to me or die that you’d be more willing, would you?” he asks with an innocent smile, but he’s anything but innocent.

  I don’t even have to think of what my answer would be. “I’d rather die than give myself over to you.” I don’t have the energy to add more contempt, but I put as much loathing and truth into my words as I can. I would rather rot in hell than be with him.

  “Didn’t think so.” He doesn’t sound angry or even disappointed in my answer. He knew what my answer was going to be before he even asked.

  “What are you going to do to me?” I want to know so I can be ready. I know he’s going to kill me, but is he going to do it right now or does he have other plans first? I want to delay and have hope that Louie is looking for me and will come to my rescue, but there’s no use; it’s not going to happen. I’m going to die today and I’m okay with it. Well, as okay as a person can be when you know you’re about to be killed by a psychopath.

  On the bright side, I’ll be able to see my brother again. I’ll be able to hear his voice, feel his arms around me, and see his smile. And even though my life hasn’t been the greatest, I only have one regret; Louie. I regret leaving and not telling him goodbye. I regret not coming back to him sooner. I regret how much time we wasted. And I regret not telling him how much he means to me.

  It’s messed up that people don’t realize their true feelings until it’s too late. I wish I could go back to the last time I saw him and stop him from leaving. I wish I would have told him right away about the flowers so he would have known what was going on.
I would’ve told him about the flowers, the letter, the phone calls, and the feeling of being watched. But mostly, I’d tell him that I love him.

  “Well, sunshine, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet. You see, I want you for myself, but since you seem to fight me at every turn, that makes it difficult. I suppose I could force it on you until you fight to your death for your freedom. Or, I could just kill you now. Which would you prefer?”

  I can’t believe he’s rationally talking like this. Asking me if I want him to kill me. But it’s better than any alternative he’s given me.

  “Just kill me now,” I say, ready for it. I’ve made as much peace as I can and now I just want it to be over with. I don’t want the pain I feel within every molecule of my body. I don’t want to look at Titus and see his disgusting face, knowing he took me from my family. I just want to get on with it.

  Stepping closer so he’s right in front of me, he takes out a knife. Thinking he’s going to follow through, I close my eyes and wait for death. But it never comes.

  “That would be too easy, though. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer and see if I can break you,” he says before slamming his knife deep into the leg that wasn’t damaged from the tempered glass.

  “AAAHHHH!” I scream. I feel every inch of the serrated edge of the knife rip through my skin and muscle. It’s lodged so deep that I think he hit bone.

  Instead of removing the knife, he leaves it in, but does remove his hand so there isn’t so much pressure on it.

  Taking shuddering breaths, I try to think of anything but the pain. If I can get my mind around it, maybe I’ll be able to last longer. He intends to torture me, that much is certain, but I don’t want to pass out again; from either pain or blood loss. I need to be coherent through this or else I have no idea what he’ll do. He hasn’t taken advantage the other times I’ve been knocked out, but who’s to say he wouldn’t now that he knows this is doomed. That I’d rather die than be with him.

  No, I need to stay awake.

  “Change your mind, sunshine? Want to make a different choice?” he asks in a sweet voice. His promise is to take away the pain I feel physically from his abuse, but it won’t make things better. If anything, it would make it worse. I’d rather defy him at every turn and feel the pain of a thousand deaths than let him win.

  “No,” I spit.

  “Hm, that’s too bad. It’d be fun to ruffle your feathers in a different way, but I’ll just have to settle for this instead,” he says, then his hand goes back to the knife and twists it in my leg before he pulls it out.

  A bloodcurdling scream tears past my lips before I can clamp them shut. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. And I won’t beg for my life. I’ll endure it all and just before death takes me, I’ll laugh in his face.

  Titus wipes the blade off on his jeans, then makes his way to the box I saw sitting on the work bench. He takes out a bottle of alcohol, a large gauze pad, and tape before making his way back toward me.

  Unscrewing the lid off the alcohol, he doesn’t give me any time to think before he dumps it over my leg where his knife was moments ago. It feels like he dumped acid in my wound, it burns so bad but I’m able to hold my scream in this time, though I can feel myself getting dizzy from the pain.

  Taking the gauze, he folds it and places it over the bleeding wound roughly, then he wraps the tape all the way around my leg.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask. I’m not meaning the torture, I mean why is he hurting me and then bandaging me up?

  “Because I’m not done with you yet,” he says. His harsh tone is back. Good. I’d rather him be this way than use that sickly sweet voice. He sounded more like a maniac when he was sounding nice while hurting me.

  After putting that first aid stuff back into the box, he comes back with a pair of pliers. I wonder briefly about what he’s going to do to me with those, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s going to hurt and it’s going to be nasty, whatever it is he plans to do.

  Undoing the rope that secured my hands behind me, they fall limply to my sides. Pain shoots up my arms from all the blood rushing back into my hands, but I don’t cry out.

  “There’s really no sense in keeping you tied up anymore. Not like you could make it far if you managed to get away anyway.” He chuckles as if it’s the funniest thing on earth to him. Bastard.

  “Now. Let’s see if we can make you scream. Make you beg for it to stop.”

  Taking hold of my right hand, he positions the pliers around the middle knuckle of my pinky finger. Squeezing the pliers, I feel slight pressure before he pulls harshly out and then to the side, effectively breaking my finger.

  I’m unable to hold in my scream. I don’t think there was any way I could with the amount of pain I feel in my finger. It’s almost worse than the knife.

  “Ah, there’s that beautiful sound,” he says as he releases my finger, only to position it around my ring finger now. “Let’s see if we can continue the beautiful melody of your dying song.”

  Taking a gasping breath, I wait for the pain of the next finger to be broken.

  Clamping the pliers down on the finger, he pulls it out to the point the pressure starts to turn into pain, but he just holds it there. He’s playing with me. Then, when I’m not ready for it, he twists and I hear the pop and crunch of the bones breaking.

  “Ah! Please! Please, just stop!” I cry. I’m angry at myself for begging but I can’t take any more pain. I just can’t.

  “Stop? Sunshine, I can’t. You owe your screams of pain to me for denying me what’s mine. Your torment is only beginning,” he says before ripping the pliers from my ring finger and instantly taking my middle finger and almost tearing it right off my hand.

  And I reach my limit. The dizziness and nausea takes hold and bile empties from my stomach, landing all over me. Some even makes it onto Titus. Good.

  I feel a little better after my stomach empties. It’s like I was able to vomit all the pain and misery out of my body. But making a mess all over Titus has his face turning red and his eyes practically bulging out of his face. If I would have known a little vomit would have pushed him over the edge, I would have done it a long time ago.

  “You nasty fucking cunt!” he roars, then makes a fist before punching me in the face. Blood pours out of my nose and drips down my chin.

  Then, he drives his fist into my stomach, causing me to curl in on myself and fall off the chair.

  This is it. This is where he ends my life. No more torturing me or making me scream. He’s too far gone now. He’s done with me and will finally put an end to all of it. Then I can be at peace. I won’t feel the pain any longer.

  Titus kicks me in the side, then reaches down to haul me to my knees by my hair. Reaching behind him, he pulls a hand gun out and points it at my head. “Say goodbye, bitch,” he snarls, spit flying out of his mouth and hitting my face.

  Before Titus is able to pull the trigger, the door to the warehouse busts open. And there, standing there with fire shooting out of eyes like the devil himself, is Louie.

  Chapter 19

  Louie

  Kicking in the door, the first thing I see is Harlow broken and bloody, kneeling on the ground with the fucker standing above her. And he’s got a gun pointed to her head.

  I feel myself vibrate with a level of rage I’ve never felt before. I want to skin this motherfucker alive, pour acid on his exposed flesh, then watch him burn while he screams and begs for death. I’ve never felt this level of anger before. It’s so much different from when my father was murdered. I feel empowered, invincible, and almighty. I can feel power rage through my veins just begging to be released on this guy. It’s almost scary the way I feel.

  But what scares me the most is the almost peaceful look on Harlow’s face. I can see the pain she must be feeling, but she also looks ready to die—ready to give up and leave me. But I won’t let her. Not this time.

  I hate myself for put
ting her in this position. After all, it’s because of me and the club she’s here. He took her to get to us, to make the Sinners pay. I don’t know why or what they have planned, but I won’t let him take club business out on Harlow.

  The man holding her by the hair turns around to face me, a sneer taking over his face. “Well, well, well. I was wondering if you were gonna show up and try to save the day,” the guy says.

  Taking a step forward, I keep my hands balled into fists at my side. I don’t need him getting jumpy and pulling the trigger on Harlow. If he does, she’s dead.

  “Let her go,” I growl, needing to get him away from her. I want to kill this fucker, but I want to do it with my bare hands. I want to make him feel the amount of pain he made Harlow endure.

  “Now why would I do that?” he asks as if he’s confused about the situation.

  “Your beef is with me and my club, not with her. So just let her go and deal with me,” I say, praying that he has one bone in his body that is prideful. If he is a respectable member of the MC, he’ll handle this confrontation with me, and not a woman.

  He laughs, but he does lower his gun. “On the contrary, I have no beef with your club. Well, besides the fact that you took something that belongs to me. Put your hands all over it. Stuck your dick into it.” His sneer is back, but I’m thoroughly confused. What the fuck does he mean we took something of his? Unless…

  “She was supposed to by mine, not yours! And if I can’t have her, no one will!” He turns around at the same time, bringing the gun back up to Harlow’s head, but I’m quicker.

  Reaching behind me, I pull my gun out from behind my back and shoot him in the shoulder, which causes him to drop the gun and grunt in pain.

  I move quickly toward Harlow, but he recovers faster than I thought he would. Wrapping his arm around her neck in a chokehold, he stands behind her, blocking any chance I had to take another shot at him. I can’t get to him without going through her.