Chapter 11
Sierra
The steering wheel feels colder than it should beneath my hands as I drive, my fingers locked around it a little tighter than usual, even though I’m trying to keep myself steady.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I know that. But after those messages, sitting still didn’t feel like an option either.
I check my phone again, the route Cain sent still leading me somewhere unfamiliar.
I know I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about this.
I know how much I’m risking right now, but what was I supposed to do?
Stay home by myself and wait to see what happens?
Not a chance. Maybe I won’t tell Cain everything.
Maybe I keep the details to myself for now, but at least I got out of the house.
And if I’m being honest… he’s been on my mind since the party.
I always told myself I needed a good guy, someone who actually knows what he’s doing, and since he was the one who tried to save Vince—even if it was too late—he still feels like the hero in my story.
And maybe that’s exactly what I need right now.
Besides… he’s too damn hot to just let him slip away.
My thoughts are cut off by a sudden, sharp sound. I glance in the rearview mirror, my brows pulling together as two bright headlights come into view, one on the left, the other on the right, way too close to my car.
“What the fuck…?!” They weren’t there a second ago.
Before I can even process it properly, the engines grow louder and deeper, the sound vibrating through the car as they move closer, almost brushing against me, like they’re doing it on purpose.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I instinctively press the pedal, putting more distance between us.
They don’t fall back. They stay right there. Matching my speed. And then they start pushing.
One of them edges closer, just enough to make my breath hitch, the bike drifting dangerously near my door before pulling back like it’s some kind of game, while the other mirrors the movement on the opposite side, cutting off any space I have to maneuver.
My heart starts pounding harder, faster, the rhythm uneven now as I press the accelerator again, trying to break away, but they follow instantly, engines roaring louder as if they’re enjoying this.
“Stop… just stop,” I breathe out, my fingers digging harder into the leather beneath my hands.
They don’t stop.
They close in.
Closer.
Too close.
One of them swerves into my lane, and instinct takes over before I can think, my foot slamming harder on the pedal as dread crawls in properly this time, so sharp it steals the air from my lungs.
I can’t get past them.
I can’t slow down.
I can’t…
The car jerks suddenly as the wheel slips, the tires skidding for a split second. That’s all it takes, and before I can correct it, I’m forced off the road, the front dipping sharply as the car slides into a ditch with a violent jolt.
My chest rises and falls too fast, my hands locked around the wheel like I can somehow undo what just happened, my ears ringing while I struggle to catch my breath.
I push the door open and step out, my legs shaking as I look around, trying to make sense of where I am.
Trees. Everywhere. Dark, dense, and far too quiet. I’m in the middle of a forest.
The motorcycles come to a stop behind my car, engines cutting out almost at the same time before both of them get off.
For a second, my brain completely blanks. They’re tall. Black hoodies stretch over broad shoulders, the fabric clinging tightly to the shape underneath, but their faces stay completely hidden behind mirrored visors—one helmet white, the other black. I can’t see anything. Not even their eyes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” The words rip out of me harsher than I expect as I take a few steps toward them. “You could’ve killed me!”
They don’t move at first. Just a silent glance between them before the one with the black helmet slowly tilts his head, and something cold twists in my stomach.
“I told you not to tell anyone about our game, kitten.”
My stomach drops.
Oh shit! He found me!
I take a step back.
Then another.
Without thinking, I turn, trying to get back into the car, but the one with the white helmet moves faster, stepping in front of the door and shaking his head slowly.
No.
No, no, no!
My pulse spikes, my chest tightening while panic starts closing in around me, my options disappearing one by one. The one wearing the black helmet moves first, stepping closer until my focus snaps back to him instantly.
“We’ll give you a head start,” he says calmly. “Two minutes. Hide properly, and if we don’t find you… the picture disappears.”
My thoughts tangle together while I try to figure out whether this is real or some cruel joke at my expense.
“And if I don’t?” I ask calmly, even if my nerves are nowhere near as steady as I pretend.
“Then we’re gonna fuck you,” he states coldly.
My body moves before my brain catches up, and then I’m running into the forest without thinking about the darkness or what could be waiting out there.
I don’t look back as I run deeper into the shadows, branches catching on my dress and scraping against my skin while the uneven ground throws off every step, my breathing turning ragged as the full weight of it finally crashes down on me.
This was such a bad idea.
What the hell was I thinking, dressing like this?
My heels sink into the dirt after only a few steps, making it impossible to keep any kind of speed, so I kick them off without stopping, barely noticing where they land as I keep moving, my feet hitting the ground harder now, sharper, the cold and dampness of the earth clinging to my skin.
It doesn’t take long before I stumble over something buried in the dark, and I hit my knees hard, the impact stealing my breath as my tights rip against the rough ground.
“Fuck…” I breathe out, pushing myself back up, my hands already dirty as I steady against the ground, my knee stinging where the skin must’ve scraped underneath.
But I don’t stop—I can’t. Mud clings to my feet with every step, turning each movement slower, heavier, while sharp twigs and scattered stones bite into my skin. One digs deep enough into my foot to make me flinch, but I force myself to keep moving, ignoring the pain as best as I can.
My breathing grows ragged, louder than it should be, and every sound around me suddenly feels amplified—the rustle of leaves, branches snapping under my feet—like the whole forest is betraying my every move no matter how fast I run.
I keep pushing forward, my dress catching on something behind me, pulling tight before the fabric gives way with a quiet rip, and I don’t stop, not caring anymore about how I look as long as I don’t stop.
My legs start to burn, my chest tightening with every breath, but slowing down doesn’t feel like an option, not when I can still feel that threat in the back of my mind.
I can’t let them catch me.
I try to change direction without thinking too much about it, stepping faster, cutting through the trees at an angle that makes no sense other than getting as far away as possible, but the earth gives out beneath me, and I barely have time to react before my foot slips, my balance vanishing in an instant as the darkness ahead drops into something deeper.
Fear crashes through my stomach before a hand clamps around my arm, hard and unyielding, yanking me back with enough force to knock the breath out of me. My body slams into something solid, my heart crashing against my ribs as I try to process what the hell just happened.
The white helmet—he caught me.
Before I can even pull away, before I can think straight, a voice comes from somewhere behind me, calm, almost amused.
“Here you are, kitten.”
“Leave me alone, you psychopaths!” I snap, my voice unsteady despite the rage burning through me.
The guy in the black helmet tilts his head with unsettling patience.
“Rules are rules,” he says, far too calm for this situation. “You don’t get to walk away from this just because you don’t like how it ends.” He takes a slow step closer. “And if he hadn’t caught you…” he adds, almost casually, “you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
My eyes flick to the one with the white helmet, then back to him, my mind racing, trying to find something—anything—that could get me out of this.
“There’s no point pretending anymore,” he continues, his tone lowering slightly, turning the words heavier instantly. “Look at yourself… almost naked and ready for us.”
I glance down at myself and realize just how badly my dress has ripped. My bra is already exposed, my skin covered in dirt, my tights ripped all the way up between my legs, and from the waist down there’s barely anything left to cover me.
Before I get a chance to say anything, the one with the white helmet reaches up and pulls it off his head, and for a split second, despite everything, I catch myself wanting to see who’s underneath. But his face is still hidden, a black balaclava covering every inch of it.
The one with the black helmet moves behind me before I can react, forcing me down into the dirt, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other pins me in place.
I try to wrench myself out of his hold, but there’s no point. He’s too strong.
The other one drops to his knees in front of me, forcing my legs apart with his gloved hands like my body belongs to him more than it does to me. I try to scream, but everything comes out muffled against the hand pressed over my mouth.
Oh, Sierra… you’re so screwed.
Suddenly, I feel his hand slide between my legs, the touch deliberate as he hooks the fabric aside, pushing my panties out of the way like it’s nothing.
He pulls off his glove before pushing a finger deep inside my pussy without warning. The sudden intrusion makes my body jolt against the one behind me, every muscle tightening as I try to pull away, panic rising fast while I fight to get free before this goes any further.
“Shhh… little kitten,” he murmurs close to my ear, his voice low and controlled. “Don’t act like you don’t want this.”
The one in front of me pulls his hand back, bringing it closer to my face, and even without seeing his expression, I can feel the shift, the way he’s watching me.
“See?” the one behind me lets out a quiet laugh against my ear. “You’re already wet for us.”
Fuck…
I really am…
What the hell is wrong with me?
Without warning, my legs are suddenly yanked forward, lifted into the air hard enough to drag my body across the dirt. My back presses against the cold ground while the one behind me shifts his grip, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand as the other stays clamped tightly over my mouth.
“Enjoy the show, kitten,” the one with the black helmet whispers near my ear. “Purr for me… and I might let you speak.”