Chapter 10
Chaos erupts in the SUV; shouting, swearing. I’m crushed between monsters. Their broad shoulders, their stench of blood and sweat, the click of their rifles—it’s suffocating. Every time Priest shouts, his body tightens beside me.
Raze jerks the wheel, making the tires screech, and the SUV fishtail around a corner.
“Who the fuck are these guys?!” the front-seat Sovereign snaps, his New Orleans accent thick with panic. His knuckles are bone-white on the rifle in his lap.
“They blew up our cars,” the other growls. “Blew up half the damn street.”
“Someone’s got a fucking death wish,” Priest mutters beside me. His gun rests on his knee, fingers twitching near the trigger. “Raze. Vault. Now.”
The car explodes into arguments—orders, insults, chaos.
But all I hear is that one word.
Vault.
The underground Sovereign base. A death sentence for someone like me. I glance toward the door. Just one shot. Just one second.
The SUV slows for an intersection. My fingers twitch toward the handle.
Now.
I lunge for it. But I don’t even get it halfway open. A steel arm slams across my chest, pinning me back with crushing force.
“I don’t think so, little girl,” Priest sneers.
I shove at his arm. “Let me go!”
“You think I won’t shoot you again?” I twist harder, but his weight crushes me into the seat as he leans closer. “Go ahead, give me a reason.”
“Fuck. You.”
I lunge, teeth bared, going for his face.
He moves faster.
His hand clamps around my jaw, fingers digging deep. The pain’s immediate. My head’s wrenched sideways.
“You never fucking learn.” My spine slams into his chest as he yanks me into his lap. His arm locks across me like a vice.
“Get the hell off me!” I thrash—fists flying, leg jerking—but it only makes him laugh.
His free hand moves down my thigh. Straight to the wound. I don’t even have time to scream before the blade touches my skin. Steel slides into the open graze, slicing deeper. Pain detonates through my body.
I scream. I can’t stop it.
“Yeah,” Priest whispers against my ear. “That’s what I thought.”
My entire body shakes. Blood pours down my leg. My vision goes spotty, tears threatening to fall—but I blink them back. I won’t cry. Not for him.
“You like hurting people? You get off on this?”
“Hurting you? Yeah. I fucking do.” His fingers smear the blood along my thigh. “If you don’t learn to sit the fuck still. I’ll carve my name into this leg before we get to the Vault.”
I jerk, a broken noise tearing from my throat. His arm tightens across my chest.
“Keep moving. See what happens.”
My body locks.
The blade drags just slightly—enough to make my stomach twist. Enough to remind me he could push it in deeper. Would, if I gave him a reason.
Raze says something up front. The others bark more orders. But all I can hear is the pounding of my own pulse and Priest’s sick chuckle behind me. He presses a kiss to the shell of my ear, mocking and filthy.
“Good kitten.”
I hate him.
I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anything.
He shoves a stick of gum between his teeth. The scent of mint, leather, and smoke hits me hard, mingling with the copper tang of my blood. It makes me nauseous. Makes me want to puke all over his lap.
The SUV takes another hard turn, tires screaming. My body jolts with the motion, but Priest’s arm across my chest doesn’t budge. His forearm pins me in place, digging into my ribs like a steel bar. Every bump in the road driving agony through my leg.
Voices erupt around me—everyone shouting in disagreement on the destination. The words blur, fractured by the throb in my thigh and the ringing in my ears. I can’t keep up.
Finally, when the shouting dims, I rasp through gritted teeth, “Where are we going?”
“A safehouse.”
I squirm, trying to shift the pressure, but it only earns me a brutal squeeze. My breath chokes off.
“Stop. Fidgeting.”
I clench my jaw, fury bubbling beneath the pain. I’d kill him if I could stand.
The SUV slows as we pull into a shadowed alley. The lights cut out. A warehouse ahead looms like a tombstone. Before I can brace myself, Priest opens the door and yanks me out by the arm. My bad leg buckles instantly, sending a jolt of pain that makes me scream through my teeth.
“Could you not drag me like a sack of shit?” I hiss, barely able to keep upright.
He doesn’t respond. Just keeps walking, yanking me behind him.
We reach the warehouse entrance, and he slams me against the rusted door without warning. My shoulder hits first, then my spine. The cold metal rattles, and the air punches out of my lungs.
“Fucking bastard.” I glare up at him.
He punches in the code and glances down. “You wanna walk or crawl? Keep mouthing off, I’ll choose for you.”
The door swings open, revealing a hallway that stinks of mildew and decay. Priest drags me forward, his grip so tight my fingers go numb. Every step is a nightmare. My thigh’s on fire, my entire leg pulsing in sync with my racing heartbeat.
I trip. My foot catches on uneven flooring. Before I can hit the ground, he hauls me up by the collar of my hoodie, nearly choking me in the process.
“Useless.”
“I can fucking walk.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
We keep moving—his pace brutal, my pain irrelevant. The farther we go, the more I want to collapse. The hallway opens into a room so sterile it feels like a different world. Bright lights, cold tile, and stainless steel. It’s a medical room.
He shoves me through the doorway. I stumble, barely catching myself before hitting the floor.
“Table. Now,” he orders.
“I’m not your fucking lab rat.”
Before I can react, my arm is wrenched behind my back, twisted until the pain shoots all the way up my spine. He slams me face-first onto the metal table. The impact rattling my bones. The steel is freezing against my cheek. I writhe, trying to twist free, but his weight pins me down.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
One hand pins my arm. The other jams into my pockets—ripping out my phones, my wallet, scattering everything across the counter like trash. Then he starts patting me down. His hand slides between my thighs, pressing on the wound.
“FUCK!”
“Quit squirming, bitch.”
My vision blurs with rage. “Get your damn hands off me!”
He applies deliberate pressure to the wound again, and another scream tears out of me before I can swallow it. He finally releases me, but the ghost of his touch burns like acid. My knees shake. My breath saws in and out. I want to claw his eyes out.
“I hope someone guts you like a pig.”
“They can try.”
I’m so focused on my rapidly escalating fantasy of stabbing him that I don’t notice the other Sovereigns slipping in—until Blondie from New Orleans starts rifling through my belongings.
“Jesus.” He holds up the burner. “This thing’s gotta be older than—”
My stomach drops. That’s my father’s phone. The last piece of him I have.
“Get your filthy hands off my stuff, you soft-dick Sovereign parasite.”
The entire room freezes.
His smirk evaporates. His eyes go black.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he snarls, stepping forward. “Say that again, you little cunt—”
Click.
A sound I know by heart.
Priest’s Glock is aimed at his skull.
“You’re out of bullets,” Blondie spits.
“Take one more step, Dalton, and I’ll blow your fucking head into the wall. No one touches her.”
Dalton’s jaw flexes, but he freezes. Something cold slithers up my spine.
What the hell is this?
I whirl on him. “I don’t need your fucking protection. You’re not a goddamn hero.”
Priest slides his gun away, and the second it’s holstered his hand shoots out and clamps around my upper arm. Pain detonates through my shoulder as he slams me into the exam table. One brutal hand on my sternum. The other snatching zip ties from a tray.
“Get off me, you sick fuck—”
“Shut up. You want to act like a feral stray? Then I’ll treat you like one.”
The plastic bites into my wrist as he cinches the first tie around it.
I thrash, and he wastes no time grabbing my other arm, wrenching it down, and securing it.
Within seconds, my hoodie is sliced and ripped off me, my white tank top and shredded jeans are the only things between me and the cold metal.
He steps back, admiring his handiwork.
I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “You’re a fucking psycho.”
His eyes drag down my arms, landing on the ugly bruises blooming from where he manhandled me.
And the fucker smiles.
“That one looks like a handprint.” He trails a finger just above the mark. “Shame it’ll fade.”
I recoil instinctively, which only seems to amuse him more.
He grips my chin, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together. “You think I give a shit about your little tantrums?”
He leans in, and I brace myself for another insult, but instead his mouth brushes close to my ear—too close. My breath stutters, heat prickling beneath my skin. I hate that he gets a reaction out of me.
“You want to keep playing brave, little girl? Go ahead, be stupid. But every time you test me, I’ll leave something on you that doesn’t fade.”
He straightens, but not before dragging his gaze down the length of me. Reaching over to the next table, he grabs my wallet, then starts walking away.
“If you slip out of those, I’ll hunt you down and fuck you with that knife you like so much.” His head turns slightly. “And not with the handle.”
“You’re insane.”
“Kitten…you haven’t even seen the part of me that needs restraints.”
The door slams behind him, echoing like a death sentence. I’m alone. Bound. Sore. And shaking.
What the fuck am I going to do?