Onyx Realm (Dynasty of Queens #2)

Chapter 1 – Serena

The hard piece of plastic under my head bumped and thumped as the vehicle rattled over the road.

My skull cracked only to jump and drop again.

A groan of pain whispered deep inside. The sound was trapped, unable to creep up my throat.

My eyes were glued shut. I couldn’t find the strength to peel them open.

Another rut in the road sent me jolting, but my limbs were rubber and unresponsive.

Whatever they’d given me was strong enough to make me lose consciousness.

But not before I fought with every drop of drowsy strength I had.

Vivid images of my fist colliding with some goon’s smug face flashed through my mind. Right before his hand cracked across my cheek.

On cue, the damaged area pulsed.

I can’t believe this happened—again.

Clearly, Fate enjoyed playing this cruel trick a second time.

Lucky me.

Voices murmured in an Eastern European-sounding dialect.

There was too much fog in my mind to pick out the words, not that I knew many aside from the bad ones.

Besides, the radio was loud, And the engine of the vehicle gurgled and spluttered.

My ears rang with a deafening buzz that probably meant there was some internal damage.

I remembered being thrown into the back seat, and they’d—

Slowly, I reached for my upper arm. Tender, the skin was tender. That was where they jabbed me however long ago.

I have to make a run for it.

Eye crusties and dried tears stuck my tired lids together. The natural lubricant turned the makeup into a caked mess, making the already tired muscles work twice as hard to open. It took a momentous effort, but I did it.

It was light out.

Even with the heavy tint of the windows, the amount of sunshine burned my retinas. The world spun. The unpaved road made the vehicle vibrate and shake. A wave of nausea pushed through me.

Oh, shit, I’m gonna puke.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I fought it with every drop of strength left in my aching muscles.

If I threw up, I would lose the element of surprise.

That was my biggest advantage with these criminals.

I prayed to any saint listening that there was someone out there to help me.

This wasn’t a situation where saving myself was possible.

The vehicle began to slow and turn.

I had to move!

This time when I looked, the rush of adrenaline kept back the sickness.

My clutch was still across my body, although some of the contents had spilled onto the floor.

I grabbed for the nail kit. While the file was just a flimsy emery board, the clippers had an extendable metal scraper, barely over an inch.

It wasn’t a lot, but if I struck the right place, it would do some damage.

The vehicle stopped.

A war cry rang through my mind as I surged forward, arm extended. The slim piece of metal sank into flesh. I did it!

The passenger yelled and swatted at me.

The driver reached back, and the vehicle jerked as his foot lifted from the brake. I struggled and fought, stabbing at the soft flesh until the nail clippers was taken away. That didn’t stop me. My nails scored their faces. Back and forth, I continued to attack!

Stars exploded across my vision as pain bloomed along the side of my face. The blow landed right on top of the first one.

I crumpled.

“Pull ahead, pull ahead!” the passenger shouted at the driver.

“My eye’s bleeding!” the driver protested. The vehicle lurched.

A satisfied grin twitched on my lips. It was hard to judge how fast or slow the SUV was traveling. But I was fairly certain we weren’t speeding at cruising altitude.

The last-ditch effort was to run for it, and hope we weren’t in the wilderness.

I gave myself a few more breaths to recover.

And then I grabbed the door handle and jumped.

Jumped onto solid, stationary ground.

In my disoriented state, I didn’t realize the vehicle stopped again. I pitched forward. The flat earth might as well have been a narrow balance beam from the stint when I trained as a gymnast. I swayed and tilted. Muscle memory had my abs clenching tight to recover.

Squinting into the light, I looked for something—anything! A building swam in a blurred haze somewhere in the distance. A desperate sob choked me. Big red letters proclaimed it to be a bait and tackle shop. It was maybe thirty yards away, if my judgement was reliable.

I ran.

Behind me, doors slammed. The goons bellowed. Gravel shifted under their feet.

The desperate hope in my chest pounded wildly against my ribs. On the front porch of the shop, two men sat around a bistro table, which was dwarfed by their large bodies. They looked in my direction, just as the men behind me shouted again.

“Please! Help me,” I called out, voice cracking. I fought past the raw pain, swallowing hard, before trying again. “Please! I’ve been kidnapped.”

To their credit, the men pushed from their seats.

They didn’t rush to my aid, but they did begin moving cautiously in the right direction.

No...not cautiously. Their movements were predatory.

My steps faltered. Some deep, primal warning fluttered in my chest. But it was either rush into the arms of these strangers or be at the mercy of the kidnappers.

I stumbled forward. How much worse could these men be compared to the ones chasing me? It was worth the risk.

Somewhere in the beyond, laughter cackled. Fate was mocking my naivety.

Damn, I was losing it. My mind was playing tricks on me, and my heart pattered wildly trying to keep up with the surge of adrenaline.

Pain sizzled over my scalp as one of the kidnappers tugged me back by my hair. I screamed, twisting around and attacking. It was useless. I was petite and drugged. There was no chance of beating him.

But I fought.

I struggled.

I broke free.

Instead of running, I launched at him, landing a kick to his groin. Only then did I spin around and dash away.

Or tried to.

The earth swayed. I blinked hard, but it didn’t help clear my surroundings. The day grew dark and then blinked bright. I was going to pass out again.

I can’t! I...can’t.

The toe of my shoe caught on a stone.

I plummeted forward, but there was no catching myself.

The pavement rose to meet me. The kidnapper pounced.

Spittle flew from his mouth, accompanied by Slavic expletives.

Absently, I recognized the F-word. Two years of Russian as a modern language at the end of private school, and that was all I could show for my education.

Fucking hell... . This was how I died.

A roar exploded through the air.

The pain stopped.

I sagged to the ground. More would come, but my muscles didn’t have the strength to brace against the assault. I lay there as a little voice in the back of my mind giggled that my brother was right. I should never have left Chicago.

Two black boots appeared, and a large form squatted before me.

Struggling through the fog, I lifted my gaze.

The most vibrant pair of blue eyes, bright and deep, stared back at me.

There was something wrong with his face, something marring the Adonis qualities.

But I couldn’t focus on that. Only his eyes. So wild and turbulent—so very blue.

Like the ocean.

Not that I’d seen it in person, only pictures on my digital dream boards.

“Ack, rotten luck, your bride’s face is a mess,” a voice muttered somewhere above me.

Reality faded.

Just before unconsciousness swallowed me, two shots were fired. I braced for the pain. I’d never been shot before, but there should have been pain.

The last thought that formed before the blackness swallowed me whole was a delusional cackle. Shit...I hope Death is kind.