Chapter 47 Leeva
Leeva
Guerilla has been getting increasingly agitated, pacing and mumbling to himself.
We’re no longer in the bedroom where I had woken up, but out in the kitchen of the rundown apartment. The windows are boarded up, and there’s a thick slab of wood across the door, keeping the door shut and locked.
My whole body still hurts from the car accident. My head throbs and my heart aches as I quietly panic, wondering if Keifer, Ursula, Barrett, Jacob, and Drake survived.
And Hayes…
Is he searching for me? Does he even know that something has happened? If he does, are they letting him look for me, or is he being held prisoner while the MC votes?
Or has his punishment already been carried out, and he’s dead?
I damn near hyperventilate thinking of that possibility. I hadn’t wanted to leave the compound after I was finished being on display like some freak. In fact, it took all three of Ursula’s boyfriends to get me into the SUV while I screamed and fought them.
Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them back. Thoughts like these won’t help me.
I scan the small apartment again, looking for any way to escape, but defeat threatens to overwhelm me.
There’s no way I’d get that thick, heavy slab of wood on the door lifted and out of the way before Guerilla stopped me.
If the windows had glass, I could at least break one and try to get out that way, but the boards over the windows are thick, and long spikes, rather than nails, hold them in place.
I’ve tried shouting for help, but no one came. They either don’t care or there’s no one else here. I’m leaning toward the latter because I don’t hear any noise coming from the other units.
Guerilla mutters angrily to himself. His phone is pressed to his ear as he tries to call someone again, but they don’t answer, like all the other times.
My eyes slide to my only chance of escape: a shotgun propped up against the counter.
When Guerilla had dragged me out of the bedroom, he shoved me into the single kitchen chair, then proceeded to give me a tutorial on the gun.
He was trying to intimidate me as he lovingly wiped the barrel with a cloth and loaded it with buckshot; called that because it was commonly used to shoot bucks.
I would’ve rolled my eyes at him if I wasn’t in the situation I currently am.
I know all about the shotgun; what it’s used for and how to operate it. My grandpa, Livewire, taught me how to handle and clean it and took me down into the MC underground shooting range to teach me how to shoot it. He even took me hunting once until I begged him never to do that again.
But I didn’t tell Guerilla any of this, because if he thinks I’m clueless, then I have a better chance of getting my hands on the weapon and getting the hell out of here.
I eye the shotgun again, wanting to lunge for it, but Guerilla is too close to it. Instead, I ask him, “Who are you trying to call?”
If I can get him talking, I might find out some information that could help, or it might distract him enough that I can scoot my chair closer to the gun.
He lowers his phone from his ear and stabs at the screen, disconnecting the call attempt. “I don’t like this bold, brazen version of you, little lamb.”
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from antagonizing him further. If he seemed unhinged or psychopathic before, his inability to get a hold of whoever he’s trying to call is making it worse.
His fist closes around the phone as he regards me. “But if you really must know, I’m trying to reach my contact in the death ring.”
Right. That fucked-up ring. Sorry, I asked.
I force myself to remain calm and not dissolve into hysterics.
He smiles, malevolent and vicious. “And I’m also trying to get a hold of Thunder.”
“Why?”
My heart hammers, suspecting the answer, though.
“Thunder and Razor have been my source of intel the past few years as I planned a way to get back at my brother.” Guerilla grins. “And Thunder, right now, is supposed to be calling about our last step in our plan against my little prick brother and the rest of the Council.”
If Hayes is still alive after the MC’s vote, he, along with the rest of them, could end up dead because of Thunder’s treachery.
Guerilla cocks his head and smiles. “You returning was the icing on the cake, little lamb. Proof I can have my cake and eat it too.”
Dread swirls in my gut. “Why do you hate Hayes so much? And why would you do this?”
He’s working with people involved in a death ring.
I study him, trying to see if he was always this man, and I had just been so young, na?ve, and blind. And how he and Hayes could be so entirely different. “Don’t you care about destroying people’s lives?”
“And what about my life that you destroyed?” he shouts, reminding me how close to the edge he is.
But I still lift my chin, refusing to cower. “I didn’t do anything.”
He tuts like I’m a child. “You loved my brother, not me. You always have.”
We’ve been over this already, and I shake my head. “If you knew that, and you feel like your life was destroyed because I never loved you, then that’s on you, Guerilla.”
“You willingly became my old lady, little lamb.” He comes over and leans down. “You bounced on my dick before his, even though you loved him. So, what’s that make you, babe?”
I try to turn away from him, but he grips my chin, getting closer to my face. “You thought you could substitute, didn’t you? You didn’t know my brother loved you, so you thought the other Cartwright brother would do.”
He’s right, and shame fills me. “I was young and stupid, vulnerable.”
Losing my parents affected me deeply, and all I wanted was a family. Hayes wasn’t an option, or at least I had thought, and I had been so goddamn foolish to think Guerilla could fill the hole that losing my parents had made.
“You wanted a family,” he says softly, almost tenderly, and strokes my hair. “I would’ve given you that. I put a baby in your belly.”
Pain lances my chest and tears fill my eyes.
“If only you hadn’t constantly whispered Hayes’ name in your sleep.” He pushes away from me. “If only you had listened and not come to the compound that day, our child would still be alive. We’d still be a family.”
Agonizing grief and pain at the loss of my baby girl rush at me, and tears blur my vision as I stand from the chair and slap his face. “How dare you put your cheating fucking ass behavior”—I slap him again—“on me!” Tears streak down my face as I hit him again. “How fucking dare you!”
I scream and purge all the toxicity out of me as I hit, slap, and scratch him. Until I’m done, and I shove away from him. His face is red with scratch marks. Both of us are heaving, and I wipe the tears from my face.
“Don’t you dare put all this on me,” I say more calmly, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. “I know I made mistakes—the biggest one was being with you—but you need to take responsibility for your actions.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.” He swipes his hand over his chin. At first, he looks pained, but then that dark, malicious gleam is back in his eyes. “You’re with me again now. I’ll put multiple babies in you; don’t worry, little lamb.”
“No, you won’t.” My hands curl, digging my nails into my palms. “I won’t be with you, Guerilla, and you’re not touching me.”
He smirks, spreading his arms. “Look around. Like I said before, ‘We ain’t in Kansas anymore.’ You’re mine to control and do whatever the fuck I want with.”
“Including raping me?” Dread swirls in my guts, and my eyes dart to the shotgun before coming back to a man who might just be my worst nightmare.
He shrugs. “If that’s what it takes. You’ll come around, eventually.
” His eyes glint with sadistic malice. “After your spirit is broken from being forced to watch your sweet Hayes kill people, rip them apart with his bare hands to survive, becoming nothing more than an animal before someone ends up killing him.” He taps his lip, looking like he’s envisioning it.
“It’s quite a spectacle; an experience unlike anything else to watch. ”
“You’re sick,” I choke.
He shrugs again. “But I need Thunder to get Army out of the MC compound before they vote.” He claps and rubs his hands together, looking gleeful. “I can’t wait to be my brother’s owner in the ring.”
“You said you’d only give Hayes to that death ring if I didn’t do what you wanted.” Panic damn near takes me to the floor. “Leave him alone. I’ll give you whatever money you want, Guerilla. Whatever you want, I promise!”
His sadistic smile grows. “I lied, little lamb. I’m quite committed to the idea of owning my brother and watching him fight for his life.”
I back away from him. With our position now, I’m close to the shotgun. So close, if I moved my hand to the left just a little, I’d be able to touch it with my fingertips.
The ringing of Guerilla’s phone makes me jump, and my heart kicks in my chest. Anyone calling him isn’t good news.
“Thunder,” he answers with a glower. “It’s about fucking time. Tell me you’re on your way here with my brother.”
He looks my way, seeing that I’m reaching for the shotgun.
And all hell breaks loose.