Chapter 16
Sierra
I wake slowly, still clinging to that soft space between sleep and consciousness where none of this has to be real.
Before I even open my eyes, I pray it was only a nightmare.
I pray I’m in my own bed, tangled in clean sheets, sunlight slipping through my curtains while some ordinary, beautiful morning waits for me on the other side of sleep.
I pray the forest was just a bad dream. The two bikers.
The gun. The hand around my neck. All of it.
But the sharp pain biting into my wrists tells me otherwise.
Something rough digs into my skin every time I move.
My shoulders ache like they’ve been pulled too far back, and cold air brushes over my body in a way that makes dread rise fast and ugly through my chest.
No…
I force my eyes open.
Blue water glitters beside me, calm and bright beneath the morning sun.
I’m sitting on a chair positioned so close to the edge of the pool that one wrong shift could send me straight into it.
My wrists are bound behind my back, ankles tied to the chair legs while the rope bites painfully into my skin. And I’m completely naked.
Humiliation burns through me so suddenly it almost competes with the fear. I instinctively try to curl inward, to hide something—anything—but there is nowhere to go. The ropes only cut deeper when I struggle.
My pulse starts to race. Then I look up. That psychopath with the helmet is sitting across from me, a gun resting in his hand and pointed casually to the side—at Cain.
My head jerks toward him. He is on his knees a few feet away with his wrists tied in front of him.
His jaw locks hard enough to twitch, every muscle in his body drawn tight while he studies the gun in silence, like whatever’s going through his head has already turned ugly. Fear crashes through me all over again.
“What the fuck is this?” My voice comes out rough and shaking. “Please… just stop.”
I swallow hard and force myself to look back at his visor. “Let us go.” My throat tightens around the words. “Please. Just leave us alone.”
Silence.
My mind scrambles for something useful, something men like him always understand.
“If you want money, I’ll give it to you.” I rush the words out before I lose my nerve. “Whatever you want. Just tell me how much.”
He says nothing at first. A low laugh slips from behind the helmet, dark amusement curling through the sound until my skin prickles. He cocks his head, the gun never wavering.
“I don’t need your money, kitten.” he growls at me, the gravel in his voice dragging down my spine. “That would be too easy.”
My throat tightens. I hate that stupid nickname. Hate the way it sounds coming from him, like he owns it now.
“Then what do you want?” I snap, fear sharpening the words before I can stop them. “Because if this is your version of fun, you’re even more fucked up than you look.”
“There she is.” He tilts his head. “I was wondering how long it would take before the claws came out.”
“Untie me.” I yank uselessly against the ropes. “Take the helmet off and say whatever you have to say like a man.”
Cain shifts beside him, subtle but tense, and the gun instantly presses higher in warning. The psychopath doesn’t even look at him. His attention stays on me.
“You don’t get to ask for dignity after what you left behind.”
My stomach knots. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“Lie again.” His voice drops, quiet and vicious. “Please. Give me a reason.”
“I said I don’t know you.”
He rises slowly from the chair, the movement so calm it sends a colder kind of fear through me.
He takes one step closer, then another, until he’s standing right in front of me.
I hate that I have to tilt my chin up to look at him.
I hate that I’m naked and tied down while he stands there fully dressed, fully in control.
“You know enough.” His gloved hand closes around my jaw, forcing my face higher. “You know what happened. You know who paid for it. You know you ran.”
My breath stutters. “Let go of me.” His grip closes tighter around my throat, cutting the words off into a strained sound.
“You don’t give orders here.”
“Go to hell!” I choke out, trying to sound braver than I feel.
“I came from there.” He pauses just long enough to let it sink in. “Pretty sure Satan still has a restraining order against me.”
His hand drops away from me as he steps back, the gun already rising toward Cain. He goes still, jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle jump. The sight tears a sound from my throat.
“Stop!”
Finally, the visor turns back to me.
“There it is,” he breathes out. “Something you care about.”
My chest heaves. “Please… just leave him out of this.”
“No,” he says it simply, like the answer was decided long before today. “You’re going to choose, kitten.”
“Choose what?” I ask, every instinct telling me I won’t like whatever comes next.
“You become my toy…” He lets the words hang there, slow and deliberate. Then the gun steadies on Cain’s chest. “Or your boytoy bleeds to death.”
My breath catches. For one horrible moment, everything inside me locks up before my pulse starts hammering so hard it hurts.
“Tick tock, kitten.” He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t have all day.”