Chapter 58 Red
Chapter fifty-eight
Red
It’s dark by the time Clarrisa pulls up in front of a small white building—the kind that gets shipped on the back of a truck and set down at a building site. I snatch my purse from the floor and tuck it under my arm, so the bulky part sits at my back. In the shadows, Clarissa might not notice.
“I need to pee,” I demand as she opens the door and waves me out.
“Go right ahead.” The bitch waves at a tree trunk looming out of the dark.
A shudder works through me. Not because I’m a princess who can’t pee in the woods, but because of the memories her unfeeling tone sparks to life; memories of people who didn’t care if I pissed or shit myself while strapped to a bed.
As I bend to roll my sports tights down, a fiery pang runs down my neck, and I gasp. Fuck, I’ve definitely pulled something, but the fact I’m walking around says it’s not a broken spine. Probably.
I breathe through the pain to squat and empty my bladder. Right now’s the perfect time to make a run for it and disappear into the darkness, but I don’t think my body’s going to cooperate.
Not to mention, I don’t know a thing about wilderness survival.
“How long do you need to take a bloody piss?” Clarissa calls, leaning against the car. “And if you’re thinking of running, think again.” She pulls something from her pocket, and an ominous click rings through the air. “I’ll put a bullet through your leg before you take two steps.”
I don’t know if she’s toying with me, but I’d prefer to live through the night. “Yeah, I’m done,” I call, clawing at the tree trunk to haul myself upright. The pain steals my breath every time I turn my head to the right, but if I hold myself rigid, it’s manageable.
In this state, better the devil you know, as the saying goes. Leaves crunch underfoot as I cross the small clearing, and a heated wind gusts around my ankles as I return to the car.
“Get inside,” Clarissa hisses, shoving me toward the shack.
“What’s the rush?” I snap back. “You got an appointment with the president or something? Oh wait, he wouldn’t meet a loser like you.” I chuckle as I set my hand on the wall to balance myself before climbing the wobbly step. “Your son doesn’t even want to see you, so what does that say?”
A cold object bumps the back of my head. “Think you’re clever, don’t you, girlie?”
I freeze, every instinct screaming that my kidnapper really has a gun pressed to my scalp.
She pushes harder, guiding my head to the wall as she leans in. She’s shorter than me, but the real venom in her words shrinks me down. “I may need you alive to get the ransom, but that doesn’t mean I need you in one piece.”
A shiver works down my spine, but when it rises, it’s full of fiery anger.
Who wrote the script for my life and determined I get to be some punching bag for absolute bastards?
And it’s money, always money. What’s so fucking elusive about money that she can’t get a job and work hard, like I’ve been doing?
She flings open the door and taps the side of my head to guide me inside.
Shivering with suppressed rage, I hop up on the step and into the pitch-black interior. Now’s the moment. I spin, intending to kick her onto her back out the doorway, but the devil beats me to it, smashing her fist into the side of my head.
I tumble to the floor with an agonized gasp as my right shoulder spasms, landing awkwardly on my purse. White dots prickle my vision, lancing painful pinpoints through my head and down my neck. Fuck!
I roll with a groan, clutching my shoulder. Yeah, no, I’m getting real sick of this shit.
Clarissa clatters into the room, and a moment later she strikes a match. The orange light flickers and grows, revealing a glass lantern, and more chillingly, the black gun sitting on the bench beside it.
A car engine sounds outside, along with crunching gravel. My initial flash of excitement dies as my bond connection doesn’t get any stronger.
Clarissa goes to the door. “Get the note delivered?”
“Yeah,” a male voice answers. I faintly remember seeing Rickon’s dad at the courthouse after Ricky’s case against Hudson, but he didn’t talk as much as his wife. Burning with pain, I ease myself upright and shuffle back until I hit the wall.
“Any issues?” he asks.
“Nope.” Clarissa glances over at me, her face shrouded in shadow. “Girl’s got a sewer mouth but nothing else.”
“Right. Make sure you tie her up, just in case. Give me the keys and I’ll dump the car,” he says, swapping keys with Clarissa through the doorway.
I’ve got nothing else? I scoff to myself. This bitch hasn’t a clue what I’m capable of. I gently stretch my arm out and massage my fingers through my knotted muscle running up into my head to stave off the nauseating agony. I just need enough movement to get those keys off her.
Red Hawk will take care of the rest.
In fact, my other persona, unneeded since I broke my alpha out of prison, surfaces now. My eyes flick from side to side, assessing the options. One exit doorway. One woman to overpower. An injury to overcome, and a man who’s going to be gone long enough to dispose of a car.
First things, I need some contingencies.
I ease my purse onto my lap and dig out my cutlery set, wincing as I open the plastic case while praying it doesn’t make a noise.
The fork fairies must be with me because it opens soundlessly.
I slide the cold metal up under the sleeves of Rickon’s borrowed knit pullover and gingerly press the steak knife up my right sleeve.
If I get knocked over again, I’m definitely gonna cut myself, but at this point I have little choice.
Clarissa slams the door and throws her new car keys next to the lamp. She grabs a plastic packet from a box, and peels the flaps open, revealing long cable ties sticking up inside.
Just great.
She comes over. “Hands,” she demands. I don’t want her grabbing my sleeves, so I offer my wrists and she zip-ties them together. Next she does my ankles, leaving me trussed like a roast chicken. She hisses as she discovers my purse and snatches it away.
“Such wonderful hospitality,” I drawl, determined to keep her distracted.
Clarissa shoots me a glare and sets the purse on the bench, checking inside. She pulls out my wallet and grabs the bank cards. She smiles bitterly as she finds the purple and silver card linked to Callisto’s bank account.
“You’ve got Callisto Wren under your thumb as well?” she crows. “Aren’t you a pretty little gold digger?”
“Says the woman trying to blackmail her son,” I say with an eye roll.
She ignores me as she pockets the card and turns away to pull a laptop out of her box of stuff. She connects it to a heavy charging brick and flips the top open, illuminating her face like a campfire horror story. Not far off, to be honest.
“So, what are you going to do with the money?” I ask.
“What?” she snaps, jerking upright.
“The money. You said you’re ransoming me, right? You must have some grand plan to spend millions of dollars. Although, you really should’ve waited a few weeks until I got paid for my acting role. I hope you weren’t counting on that being in my account?”
Come to think of it, how much am I worth? I have an apartment in my name, but it’s probably Callisto’s wealth she’s chasing. “How much did you ask for in the ransom?”
“One hundred million,” she says.
I choke. “Have you fucking lost your mind? Who’s gonna pay that much money?”
She smiles tightly and spins the laptop around, hitting a play button on a news clip. A reporter in a floral blouse stares at the screen as she announces her story.
“In breaking news, the Omega Crimes Bureau just announced a recent raid on a Laversham garage uncovered an illegal haze distribution operation. Agents on site seized unregistered haze estimated to be worth half a billion dollars.”
My mouth falls open. One, that’s a lot of money, but two, why does she think I have access to any of that? “What’s that got to do with me?” I ask tightly.
“It’s all yours, right? The haze.” Her deceptively sweet smile chills me to the bone. “I’ve been following all the court cases and your cute little media articles, and I put two and two together.”
I grit my teeth. “Even if that haze came from me, the OCB has it now.”
Clarissa nods. “True, but I don’t even care about that haze.” Her eyes narrow as her gaze falls down my body. “The more I read, the more I wondered how much the stuff still inside you might be worth.”
I freeze. Is she fucking serious right now?
“I’d be a fool to settle for a hundred mil when your haze is worth five times that.” She grins. “Well, that’s the offer one of your old friends made me.”
I sit frozen as she dials someone on her laptop. This isn’t happening. Rejection poisons my blood, steals my breath and blanks my mind.
“It’s me,” Clarissa says. “I have the omega.”
“Good. Transport’s on the way.” The familiar female voice rears out of the abyss of my past, full of nightmares and death. One of the two bitches who dragged me into that hellhole nest time and time again and handled the needles.
My throat clamps, and tears blur my eyes. I knew some of the staff got away, and the OCB was hunting them down. Not everyone was at the hub during the raid. But to come full circle like this? That’s unthinkable.
The mountain I’ve been climbing crumbles under my feet. Ray’s all but dead, but his operation’s growing back like mold. And they think they can drag me back into their pit? Like hell.
I lean over as vomit pushes through my throat, everything within me panicking.
I won’t go back. No matter what, I won’t. Even if I die here. My alphas will understand, and they’ll take care of each other. My body squeezes so violently I’m not sure I’ll ever draw breath again.
Clarissa swears and stalks over. “You’re a bloody mess,” she hisses, dragging me by the back of my sweater away from the stinking pile of vomit.
I gag, but my stomach’s empty. She throws a rag over the mess, and while her back’s turned, Red Hawk consumes me. Now or never. My alphas are coming, but they might not make it before that bitch en route.
From the very beginning, I’ve been a fighter.
With my thumb on my opposite hand, I tease the knife down inside my sleeve until the tip pokes out by my wrist. The serrated blade scrapes my skin, but I ignore it, sawing the tip through the plastic bonds.
“What the fuck?” Clarissa catches the noise and turns just as the tie around my wrist snaps. I lurch forward, knife fully in hand, to saw my ankle restraints apart.
Clarissa leaps onto me, knocking the knife out of my grip. It skitters across the floor to land in a pool of lamplight, but I already cut halfway through my restraint. I kick furiously and the last of the cable tie snaps apart.
“You bitch!” Clarissa screams.
Pain flares up my neck, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I dive into my other sleeve and pull out my glorious Fabby McStabby 2.0. Her glass handle slides smoothly into my hand.
I can’t say if I aim. All I know is I refuse to let this woman drag me anywhere. The sharp, silver tines descend. Screams break the quiet night air; could even be mine since my neck feels like it’s tearing apart. Hot blood splashes over my hands.
Gasping with effort, I lurch upright, skidding and tripping until I reach the bench.
My hands close on the cold metal of the gun.
Clarissa shrieks, and a force slams into my back and I spin, knocking the lamp onto the floor.
Darkness descends as the flame disappears behind the cupboards, but the screaming woman punches my back and yanks my hair. Agony shoots up my shoulder.
I fall, but my hands lock around the weapon.
I’ve seen this countless times in movies. Alpha Spy lives with one of these in his waistband. Pierce and Josef cleaned their weapons on my kitchen table, and I carried a fake one when I rescued Zack.
I slide my thumb until it catches. The click echoes loudly in my ears until my back hits the floor. Fire blazes to life near my head, reflecting off pieces of shattered glass as the lamp oil seeps across the floor.
The gun goes off, burning in my eardrums and echoing in my head. The shrieking woman falls limply across my chest, weight pinning me as she gasps and grows silent.
For a moment, my rasped breaths are the only noise in the room.
And then the fire explodes into ferocious life, slurping up the shelves and reaching burning fingers toward my hair.
I scream and roll away, shoving Clarissa off me and crawling toward the entrance. As I fling the door open, headlights sweep across the shack. Friend, or foe?
The bond surges with fear and joy, and I go limp, one leg dangling out onto the step. A crazed smile lifts my lips.
My alphas came for me.