Chapter 11
Iwas stupid, and now it might get me killed.
I should have taken more guards with me.
I knew it didn’t feel right. I’m almost thankful Dodge wasn’t with me to get killed like the others who were cut down in broad daylight.
The parking garage under the hotel I was supposed to have my meeting at was empty, until it wasn’t.
Gunfire lit up the area and screams filled the air as my guards dove at me, trying to get me to safety.
They lost their lives as they tried to protect me with their bodies.
I managed to kill a few of our assailants, but there were so many of them pouring from black SUVs and blocking our car, I wasn’t able to do much.
The last thing I remember is running back to our vehicle before an explosion of fire engulfed it, and I was thrown backwards.
I hit the ground hard, tasting blood, and then . . . nothing.
Until I woke up here.
I must be underground somewhere because the air is stale and slightly damp.
The room is small, more of a cell than anything else.
There are no bars on the door, but the door itself is thick metal.
There’s a stained mattress I woke up on and quickly rolled off of, and now I sit with my back to the back wall with my knees up, my arms resting on them.
My chains clank with every movement, the collar I’m wearing feeding into the shackles on my wrists then bolted to the back wall.
I tugged on it until my wrists bled, my strength no match for my bindings.
I need the key or I’m not getting out of here.
The room is maybe the size of my bathroom, and I don’t know where I am or who took me. It could be any of our numerous enemies. The list is long, after all, but one that’s brave and well connected enough to do this? It reduces the list of suspects.
With nothing but time, I go through those names, trying to figure out why. Knowledge is power, especially in this situation. I’ll get out of here, I have to, but in the meantime, I need to be strong enough to withstand whatever they will do to me.
By the time I hear a noise at the door, I’ve narrowed it down to four possible families, and I’m almost eager to face them when the door opens. Five burly men step inside, clearly guards or workers. They are covered in ink and dressed in a mix of street clothes.
That rules out Grant, since his men exclusively wear suits, and Polly’s men usually wear sparkles, so that leaves two. It could be either of them. I refuse to ask, though, because I won’t show an inch of weakness.
I lean back into the wall, a cocky smirk on my lips as I watch them like they’ve stepped into my kingdom.
It isn’t the first time I’ve been captured and tortured, and it won’t be the last, but one thing always happens.
Everyone who touches me dies.
The idiots.
By now, Zayn and Nero will know that I was taken, and our people will trace what happened and find me. There is nowhere in this city they can hide me where I won’t be found. It will just take time—time I need to stay alive for.
One on the left cracks his knuckles. He has a square, menacing face with tattoos covering every inch of visible skin, his hair styled up in a bright mohawk. He has madness in his gaze, but I always find that those who make themselves look menacing like that aren’t the ones you need to fear.
It’s the ones in sheep’s clothing who are the scariest. I know from experience.
I look like any other businessman, yet I have so much blood on my hands, they will never be clean.
The one on the right, who is dressed in all black, looks too calm. He’s definitely the one I need to watch out for. The other two are low-level thugs, all brawn and no brains. They are used for torture and protection. Every organization has them. They are replaceable but essential.
“Let me guess,” I drawl as I eye the four guards, “you aren’t here for a tea party.”
They remain silent, and I climb to my feet, tilting my head back. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
No matter what anyone tells you about being tortured, there is a moment when any man or woman will break—either from physical pain, mental agony, or outside factors.
I know that moment will come, so I need to hold out as long as I can to give my brothers time to find me.
Besides, there is a reason I am the head of the family.
My shirt is long gone, exposing my old wounds, which they take great care in cutting open. I was right. The silent man in black is the true wolf, especially when he heats up a poker and repeatedly slams it against my back. I hold in my howls of pain, refusing to make a sound.
Once they split my back open, they step over to their table of tools, debating which one to use next.
I watch as mohawk picks up a whip and coils it, a split tongue slipping from his mouth and caressing his lips in a creepy manner.
He definitely has that psychopathic trait down to a T, that’s for sure.
“Lovely,” I joke.
His fist slams into my face, wrapped with the whip, and snarls as he steps back. “Shut it.”
Spitting my blood on his polished boots, I grin up at him. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but torture works better when you tell the victim what you want first.”
“We don’t need to tell you—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I interrupt mohawk. “I was talking to your boss, not you.” I glance at the silent man. I am still deciding between two families, and the more I know, the better. They took me for a reason. Usually when I’m taken, they want money or land—hell, revenge is a possibility too.
The silent man steps forward, rolling his sleeves back, and I get my first look at the tattoos that cover his arms from his wrists up.
Interesting. It means he either feels the need to hide who he is or he is in a position where he must. It’s something to take note of just in case it comes in handy later.
“We are just having fun until he arrives.”
“Ah, so he does speak.” I grin. “You were better when you were silent. I can smell your breath from here. Have you visited a—” The breath whooshes out of me as he punches me in the gut. Grabbing my hair, he yanks my head up and snarls in my face.
“Keep up your jokes, they’ll eventually fade. All that bravado will flee and you’ll beg,” he sneers.
“Begging? Not really my style.” I smirk. “But feel free to try. Many have attempted the same, but they were much bigger and scarier than you, little boy.”
His elbow slams into my face. I feel my nose burst, filling my mouth with blood, but again, it isn’t the first time it’s been broken.
“You’ll have to be much more creative than that,” I say as I cough up the blood.
“You’re letting our side down, giving us all a bad name.
It’s very disappointing. Give me those tools and let me show you how it’s really done. ”
It only enrages him further, and he wraps his hand around my neck, squeezing until I have no air. I smile, knowing he won’t kill me, not yet. If they wanted me dead, they would have killed me in the parking lot with my men. No, they want something, which means they will keep me alive for now.
I tap his hand. “Can’t kill me yet,” I force out, and he snarls as he lets go. “Good dog,” I sputter, and mohawk has to drag him back as I grin and suck in rough breaths.
The door opens, and I lean back in my chains. “Ah, well, this just got interesting,” I admit out loud, my voice rough as I get my first look at the person who captured me.