Chapter Four – Evelynn #2
My hands clench at my sides as I force myself to walk to the chair and sit down. Once I’m seated, one of them comes over and ties straps around my wrists and ankles, securing me to the chair.
My heart thunders in my chest as my breathing becomes erratic, and ice-cold fear cascades over me.
My gaze is wide. “What… what are you doing?” I ask, my voice wavering as I try not to scream and call for help.
The one with the golden eyes takes a step forward. He bends down and stares into my eyes.
“Maybe when you are in here, you’ll feel more encouraged to answer our questions. If at any point we think you are lying, Talon here will find ways to make you tell the truth.”
My gaze flickers to Talon, the silent one, the one who fixed me up. Was this their plan? Make me comfortable, let my guard down, and then torture me?
“I’ve told you the truth,” I say, my tone pleading. I am not ashamed to beg for my life. I was always taught that everyone has a good nature, but some take longer to find it than others.
“Who are you?” I ask. Maybe if I get to know them personally, they won’t kill me.
He points to his chest. “Crimson Covenant. President.”
“You’re bikers?” I breathe.
I’ve heard stories about bikers from my town; ones that kill, rape, and steal. I assumed the older folk were being dramatic. I mean, when I got my small symbol tattoo behind my ear, Mrs. Wallows threw holy water at me and yelled about me being in a devil cult.
“You’ve heard of us,” the one with black eyes states.
I nod. “I live in the next town over.” I pause. “Melville,” I clarify.
They exchange a look. The silent one, Talon, takes a step towards me. I catch a glimpse of a needle in his hand, and I vigorously shake my head back and forth.
“Please, no. I’m telling you the truth,” I plead. Tears fill my eyes. I look to the club president, pleading with my gaze, shaking my head. “Please. Please,” I whimper.
His jaw tenses as he stares back at me, unmoving.
He isn’t going to stop it. Why would he? He’s the president of the club. He probably ordered it.
I grit my teeth and brace for the inevitable. The sharp jab of the needle pierces the top of my arm, and cold liquid spreads through me.
I blink, keeping my gaze steady. I can feel all their eyes on me. As I look around at each of them, I see they’re all watching me, but specifically at my arm.
I look down and see a small droplet of blood slowly trickle down my skin.
The president of the club steps forward, crouching down beside me. His amber eyes are almost glowing as he leans in and licks the trail of blood from my arm.
My lips part in shock.
He closes his eyes, savouring the taste of my blood, a low moan vibrating from him.
What the fuck is happening?! I scream internally.
He stands, opening his eyes, hunger burning deep within his gaze. My head begins to feel woozy, and the room spins slightly. My muscles start relaxing, and a long sigh escapes me.
“Man, what did you give me?” I ask. My mind is at war with itself; the rational fear is trying to fight whatever drug they’ve given me. But I feel calm. I feel drunk.
“Ask her,” one of them says. I try to look around the room to see who spoke, but as I do, everything blurs, and it’s as if the floor shifts beneath me.
“Whoa,” I mutter.
Their leader crouches before me. I blink, looking at him.
“You have really weird eyes.” I giggle.
I hear a grunt of amusement behind me.
“See, he thinks so, too.” I grin.
President Amber Eyes doesn’t laugh.
“Jeez, tough crowd,” I snort. My mind is screaming that this is not the time to joke, but I can’t help it.
“Where are the Crawley brothers?” he growls.
“With their mamma?” I chuckle.
“Why were you at their warehouse?” he presses.
“Suzie dragged me to it. She was hoping to ride one of the guys there. She’s got a thing for the bad boys. She would like you. Terrible taste in men,” I tut.
I hear a few cough a laugh, but then a pang of pain hits me in my chest.
“Well, I don’t think she would like you much anymore since you killed her,” I sigh.
“We didn’t kill her,” he says.
“Oh, you did. Everyone was partying until you turned up. Shot her straight in the head. In cold blood,” I accuse, frowning. “Why is it called ‘in cold blood’? Because isn’t blood warm? Like, it’s in your body, so surely, it’s warm.”
“It’s more tepid. Like a glass of water with no ice,” one of them answers.
“Clutch,” President Amber Eyes snaps.
“Clutch!” I repeat, mocking him. “Like a clutch purse?”
He grins. “Nah, baby doll. Clutch in a car.”
“There are clutches in cars?!” I gasp.
Clutch’s grin widens. “I like her.” He winks.
I grin back. “I like you, too, Clutch.”
“Enough!” President Amber Eyes barks, the sound echoing off the stone walls. I flinch.
“No need to be jealous, President Amber Eyes. If you weren’t so shouty, I’d like you, too,” I assure him.
He glares at me. “Keep your eyes and attention on me, and only me,” he orders.
“Okay, bossy pants.”
“Do you know where the Crawley brothers are hiding?” he asks sternly.
I lean forward, keeping my gaze on him. “Nope. Nope. Nope!” I sing. “When can I go home?” I ask.
“What did you see when you were at the Crawleys’ warehouse?” he presses.
“I saw…” I pause. “I saw boobs. So many frickin’ boobs!”
“Boobs?” he asks, his brows furrowing. He almost looks cute like that.
“Yeah. Tits. Tits and nipples.” I chuckle. “One even went in a drink. I didn’t drink that, though.” I shudder.
“What else did you see?” he asks.
“Hmm.” I pause. “Oh, yeah! They shut me in a room with a guy who had some weird injury. It was rotting. Sooo gross.” I mock gag.
“Why did they put you in there with him?” he presses.
“Because they found out I’m a nurse. Some guy with awful breath put me in there,” I sigh.
The room goes quiet for a minute.
“I’m thirsty,” I say, opening and closing my mouth. “And hot. Is it hot in here? Have you turned the heating up?” I pant, sticking my tongue out. I fight the restraints, trying to get them off. “Too hot, too hot,” I breathe. My body feels like it’s burning up.
“Get the restraints off,” he orders.
I feel sweat trickling down my face. As soon as the restraints are gone, I get to my feet and rip at my clothes, unbuttoning and sliding my jeans down my legs before yanking my bodysuit over my head and throwing it across the room.
I turn. The room is spinning, and my vision is blurring as I struggle to focus.
“What the fuck is happening?!” I hear barked.
“Bad trip,” a deep voice answers.
I try to stand still, trying to gain focus. It’s impossible. I’m on fire. My heart is beating like a stampede.
“Can’t breathe,” I gasp. “Hot. Can’t breathe,” I rasp. “I can’t—”
I grasp at my throat, clawing at my mouth like there’s something there restricting the air around me. It’s too much. My body can’t cope.
The room spins a final time before I fall into darkness.