Chapter 11
Cami
My head throbs like something's trying to claw its way out of my skull from the inside. Each pulse of pain brings a wave of nausea that makes my stomach lurch. I try to move, but my limbs feel like they're filled with wet sand—heavy, uncooperative, disconnected from my brain.
Where am I?
The thought surfaces slowly through the fog. Everything feels muffled, like my head's wrapped in cotton. My mouth tastes like chemicals and copper, and when I try to swallow, my throat burns.
Think. What's the last thing you remember?
The party. Oh God, the party. Rhett's cut settling on my shoulders. Dancing with him while he whispered promises that made me blush. Being so deliriously happy I thought my heart might actually burst from it.
Going outside for fresh air.
Then hands grabbing me from behind. Something pressed over my mouth. Sweet chemical smell choking me while I fought and kicked and—
Oh God. Oh God, no.
Panic claws up my throat, but I force it down. Freaking out won't help. I need to think. Need to figure out where I am and how to get back to the Hellbound Compound.
I crack my eyes open just a sliver. A single bare bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows. The room is small. I’m lying on a narrow bed. There’s a metal chair in the corner. No windows.
Voices drift from somewhere close by. Male. Unfamiliar. I keep my eyes mostly shut and force my breathing to stay slow and steady. If they think I'm still unconscious, maybe I can learn something useful.
"We got a problem, Viper.” The voice carries an edge of worry that makes my stomach clench tighter.
"What kind of problem?" Another voice responds—deeper, with a tone of authority. A leader, maybe?
“She's wearing a property patch."
The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush me.
"Fuck." The second voice—Viper—curses low and vicious. "She's an ol' lady?"
"Property of Wrath. Hellbound Devils VP."
My heart hammers so loud I'm certain they can hear it through the walls. They know who I belong to. Good. I want them to know whose woman they have.
More silence. Then, “Son-of-a-fucking-bitch.” Viper's voice could freeze lava. "He said they were holding her against her will. Made it sound like she was a victim.”
He? Who's he? My foggy brain struggles to make the connections through the lingering effects of whatever they used to knock me out.
"You think we got played?”
“I don’t know. But what I do know is that we just kidnapped the claimed ol’ lady of one of the most dangerous men in three states.” Viper's tone could cut through steel. “So I’m damn sure gonna find out.”
The pieces start clicking together slowly, like a puzzle assembling itself in my drugged mind. Someone told them I was being held against my will. Someone convinced them I needed rescuing.
Who?
No, no. It can't be.
But I know. Deep in my bones, I know exactly who.
"What do you want to do?" the first voice asks.
"Go get that asshole. I want answers. Now."
Footsteps retreat. A door opens and closes somewhere down a hallway. I'm alone again, but not for long. I can hear movement outside my door, someone shifting their weight.
The door opens slowly. I let my eyes fall shut again, but my heart's racing too fast to convincingly fake unconsciousness.
A man sits on the edge of the bed, but not too close, leaving space between us.
"I know you're awake."
The voice—Viper’s—is non-threatening. Almost...gentle?
I risk opening my eyes. He's maybe mid-forties, with temples gone silver and dark eyes that take in every detail. His leather cut bears patches I don't recognize—some kind of snake design—but the "President" rocker across his chest tells me everything I need to know about who I'm dealing with.
He holds out a water bottle. "Here. You've been out for a while. You're probably thirsty."
I don't move. Can't. Every instinct screams not to trust anyone wearing colors that aren't Hellbound Devils.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He unscrews the cap, takes a long drink himself, then offers it again. "See? Not drugged. Just water."
My throat feels like sandpaper wrapped around broken glass. The chemical taste still coats my tongue, making me want to gag. Slowly, I push myself up to sitting.
The room tilts violently sideways. My stomach lurches, and I have to close my eyes and breathe through my nose until the nausea passes.
“Those effects will wear off quickly once you’re up and moving. Maybe ten minutes or so,” he says.
When I open my eyes again, Viper's still there, still sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding the water, still watching me with sharp, assessing eyes.
I reach for the bottle with shaking hands. It nearly slips from my grip, but he catches it, steadying my hold as he helps guide it to my lips.
The water is cold and perfect. I drink greedily, desperately, until he gently pulls the bottle away.
"Easy. Not too fast or you'll make yourself sick.
The kindness in his voice doesn't match the situation. Doesn't match the fact that his men grabbed me from my sanctuary and drugged me unconscious.
"Why?" The word scrapes out of my raw throat like gravel. "Why am I here? Why did you—" I can't finish. Can't say kidnap because that would make this nightmare real.
Viper's expression shifts to something that might be regret.
Might be calculation. I can't tell which.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out myself.
We were told you were being held against your will by the Hellbound Devils.
Being trafficked." He pauses, studying my face.
"We don't tolerate trafficking. So we looked into it.
Saw you'd quit both your jobs with no notice.
Saw you were at their compound. It seemed to check out. "
The bottom drops out of my stomach. "So you just...took me?"
Before he can respond, the door bangs open hard enough to hit the wall.
Everything inside me goes cold. Not the cold of ordinary fear—the cold of nightmares made flesh.
Because standing in the doorway, face arranged in a perfect mask of parental concern, is my father.
"Oh, thank God." He rushes forward, and I scramble backward so violently I nearly fall off the far side of the bed. My back presses against the concrete wall. "Baby girl, are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
“No.” The word tears from my throat like broken glass. "Don't come near me."
But he keeps advancing, that fake worry plastered across his face. The same expression he wore at the hospital two years ago while I lay there with three broken ribs and a concussion.
"Sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now. I'm here to take you home—"
"No!” I'm shaking so hard my teeth chatter, but I force the words out anyway. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Viper is on his feet now, one hand raised in a gesture that stops my father mid-step. His eyes track between us, sharp and calculating, and I can see him processing. Reading the situation.
"She's terrified of you." It's not a question. It's an observation.
"She's confused," my father says, his voice smooth as poisoned honey.
Too smooth. The voice he uses on cops and social workers and anyone else he needs to manipulate.
"Those biker scumbags have been holding her against her will.
Probably drugging her, raping her, and god only knows what else. She doesn't know what she's saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying." I find my voice somewhere in the terror, find the strength Rhett has been slowly helping me build.
The strength that comes from finally being valued instead of beaten down.
"He's lying. About all of it. The Hellbound Devils saved me.
They gave me a family. A home. Rhett—Wrath—he protected me.
" My voice cracks, but I push through. "From him.
He's the one who hurt me. Who made my entire childhood a living nightmare. "
My father's mask slips for just a heartbeat. Just long enough for Viper to catch the flash of fury beneath the concern, the truth under the lies.
“I’ve seen enough." Viper's voice cuts through the room like a whip crack. He turns to the two Iron Serpents standing guard by the door. "Take him to the basement. Make sure he's secure."
"What?" My father's false concern evaporates into outrage. "She's my daughter. You can't—I came to you for help.”
"You came to us with lies." Viper's expression is vicious, feral. "And we don't take kindly to being played for fools."
"She's lying. You have to see it. She's always been a liar, a troublemaker, turning people against me—"
But rough hands are already grabbing his arms, yanking him backward. He fights them, shouting, but they're bigger and stronger and his protests fade as they drag him down the hallway.
The door slams shut. Silence crashes down.
I'm shaking so hard I can't make it stop. My hands, my arms, my whole body trembles like I'm freezing from the inside out. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together.
"Please." The word comes out broken. Desperate. "Please don't make me go with him. Please let me go back to Wrath. I'll do anything. Just please—"
"Hey." Viper's voice gentles in a way I wasn't expecting. He holds up both hands, palms out, showing he means no harm. "You're not going anywhere with that piece of shit. Not today, not ever. You have my word."
"Then let me go home." My voice cracks completely. "Let me go back to the Hellbound Compound. Rhett will be—" I can't finish. Can't articulate the fear he must be feeling right now, the rage that's probably tearing him apart. "He'll be losing his mind right now. Please. Just let me go home."
“Yeah.” Viper runs a hand over his face, and for the first time I see how tired he looks. "I fucked up. I fucked up bad, but I'm going to make it right."
"How?" I don't mean to sound so desperate, but I can't help it.
He looks at me, and something in his expression makes me think he's calculating odds that don't favor his survival.
"I'm going to call Steel. Going to explain what happened and work out how to get you home safely.” He pauses, his jaw working like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say.
“You don't deserve to be caught in the middle of this clusterfuck, and I swear to you, I’ll make this right for you.
" Then quieter, almost under his breath, “Not sure I’ll make it out of this alive, though.”