Chapter 30
THIRTY
NIC
My shoulders are on fire. I’m not sure when I lost traction in my legs, but all my weight is hanging on my wrists now. The pain pulsing through my joints is the only thing keeping me conscious.
I watch Morozov through swollen eyes as he paces back and forth. He’s been doing that for a while now, muttering to himself.
Unravelling in real time.
This isn’t control. It’s a man trying to hold something together that’s already broken.
My split lip twitches into a smug smirk. Fucking prick.
“Monty got shot, Demetri,” one guy is growling. “Payment now. Not later.”
Monty is sitting on a crate, his shoulder wrapped in gauze after the thick-necked guy stitched him up. There’s a sheen of sweat on his upper lip and his eyes are heavy with pain.
I hope you choke on your own blood, fucker.
Morozov stops pacing to look at the four guys who took me. Mercs. Men for hire who are about to disappear unless money starts appearing. “This is not the agreement,” he snaps, then forces a breath in through his nose. “In business, there’s a process.”
“I don’t give a single shiny shit about process.”
Morozov mutters something in Russian under his breath. His gaze flicks back to them again, then to me before going back, like he can’t decide which problem to deal with first.
I give him a blood-stained, toothy grin when he looks at me. Dazed, probably. I can barely see straight.
He steps in close to me, dropping his voice low. “You’ve made my life very challenging, brat.”
“Then I fucked up,” I push the words out. “Was meant to ruin it.”
His smile is thin. “You certainly have proven a worthy opponent, Phoenix.” His eyes roam over me. “Did you enjoy your early morning wake up?”
The raid where Keeley was dragged through my clubhouse half fucking naked.
Don’t react with anger. Keep calm.
I curl my fingers around the chains holding my wrists above my head. “About as much as you enjoyed wakin’ to all zeroes in your accounts.” His mouth curves into a snarl. “These idiots think you’re gonna pay ‘em and we both know you can’t.”
His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing until stars spill through my vision. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get hold of Miss West is make you watch while I fuck her.”
Heat floods through me, hot and vicious. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“And yet, you’re the one hanging from a hook. Not me.”
He lets me go with a shove and air rushes back into my lungs. It only lasts a second. Morozov slams his fist into my gut so hard I taste vomit in the back of my mouth.
I swing on the chains, my feet struggling to find purchase against the ground. My shoulders scream and I almost give in to the dark pull at the edge of my vision.
“You’ll be hangin’ in my place once your boys realise you ain’t gonna pay up.”
His eye twitches, the muscle in his jaw too. He drags a hand down his face, then laughs under his breath. It sounds brittle and wrong.
“They’ll get paid.” A beat passes. “They will get paid.”
“With what? Hope doesn’t pay the bills, Demetri.”
His nostril flare as he glances back at the men. They’re still patching their friend up, preoccupied.
“You’ve left me in a terrible position. I had to move tonight, even though I didn’t want to.
I wanted her,” he bites out like it cuts him.
“Not you.” I taste blood in my mouth that has nothing to do with the beating I’ve had and everything to do with how tight my jaw is.
“You made me rush, and I don’t like rushing. ”
He paces a few steps before stopping in front of me. “But maybe this was the better outcome, da? Now, I get to watch your face while I fuck her in front of you and then hand her to my boys to play with. Maybe they’ll take her in payment instead since you cleaned me out.”
Fury burns through me so violently I surge forward, the chains yanking me back before I can reach him. “You won’t touch her! I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
Morozov gives me an ugly smirk.
I close my eyes, Keeley’s face dancing through my mind. I hold on to the last time I tasted her, how she felt when I kissed her tonight, or was it last night? Time’s stretched and warped, lost under the haze of pain.
Sharp pain cracks off my face. Morozov’s palm, I realise. Fucking cunt. This would be a different fight if I wasn’t chained and bruised in places I can’t even see.
“My club’s gonna come for me,” I rasp. “Your guys are gonna ditch you the second they realise you can’t even buy ‘em a beer right now. That’s the difference between you and me. I didn’t have to buy loyalty, Demetri. I earned it.”
He starts muttering in rapid Russian, or maybe it’s English and my brain’s too fucked to understand anymore. “You think you’ve won,” he says eventually. “You’re wrong.”
I drag in a breath that feels like glass is scraping up my airways, and somehow I still drag out a laugh. “Tell them you can’t pay. Then we’ll see who’s winnin’.”
His laugh is sharp, wrong in every way. “Don’t need to. You’ll give me that money back.”
I open my mouth to say I doubt it, but the sound of a car breaks through the fog enough that I lift my head in that direction.
“Ah, at least someone is good at following instructions.” He pulls a gun from under his jacket and taps it against the side of his leg over and over like he can’t stop doing it.
I see Mace first, and my chest loosens. My family’s here.
His eyes come to mine, hard and unreadable, but I see the flicker of concern. Riot and Diesel step in after.
And then my heart stops.
Because she walks through the door with Dash. Her hands are bound in front of her, her eyes wide with terror. There’s a piece of cloth covering her mouth and she’s whimpering behind it.
Not one ounce of pain in my body compares to the fear climbing inside my skin right now.
No, my brothers would never do this. They would never trade her for me and yet she’s here in ropes.
Not my girl. Not my Keeley.
My gaze slides to my vice president, my best fucking friend, searching his face for the lie here. But I don’t see it.
My stomach drops to the floor.
I’m hallucinating. I have to be.
I yank the chains, tugging against them so hard the metal bites into my wrists. They don’t move, not even when blood trickles down my forearms.
Her eyes find mine, and for a moment everything tunnels to her. Her lips part just a fraction, lips that I had mine on only hours ago. Her brow furrows, anguish written in every inch of her as she takes me in. My breath wheezes out of me as I try to calm my racing heart.
This can’t be real. There is no part of this situation that can be real. Mace would never do this. The club has a code. Women and children are off limits. You don’t hand over another brother’s old lady.
You sure as hell don’t hand over your president’s old lady.
But you never made her yours officially.
That’s fucking bullshit. Every man wearing this patch knows she’s mine.
“Sunshine.” I don’t know if I get the name out. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say beyond that.
Morozov moves closer to me, his gun pressing against my ribs. I can feel the bite of the metal and the tremor working through him, but none of that matters. Just her.
My vision wobbles and I blink so I don’t lose her as Dash stops behind the others, angled just in front of her. His grip on her arms isn’t supportive or friendly.
Morozov’s mercs have armed themselves and drifted closer—except Monty. He’s still on the crate, though he has a gun in his hand.
I thought I felt fear in my life, but it is nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now.
Morozov lifts the gun and points it right at my chest, but his gaze is on Keeley. “Miss West. You’ve caused me a lot of trouble.” He pulls his lip between his teeth before glancing at Mace. “You can leave.”
“Him for her,” Mace says. “That was the deal.”
Mace still hasn’t looked at me, and I don’t know what the fuck that means.
“Da, you’ll get him, but not like this. I’ll have him delivered to your clubhouse in an hour.”
“No,” Mace growls. The mercs step in. My boys don’t move.
“I don’t care about the girl.” Mace steps in front of Keeley. “I just want my president back. You can do whatever the hell you want with her.”
I growl under my breath, and Mace slides his gaze toward me. To anyone who didn’t know him, he looks cold, but I’ve known him since we were kids.
He’s… concentrating.
Planning.
What the fuck is going on?
My brain is scrambled. Every thought is like trying to wade through cement. But something’s off.
I lift my gaze slowly, dragging it around the warehouse. Then I see it. Movement so small in the shadows I think I imagine it. A glint of metal I haven’t imagined.
We’re not alone.
The pressure in my chest eases just enough for me to fill my lungs.
“You really wanna die here?” I push the words through thick, swollen lips. “One girl worth your life?”
Morozov arm shakes a little, the gun lowering a fraction. “I didn’t want her at all. I wanted what he promised.”
He being Blade.
“And what was that?”
“Territory.”
Fuck me. He’s an idiot. An actual fucking moron. He thinks Blade would have just handed over control of whatever he won?
“It could have been amicable. But now, I’m going to kill you, your brothers, sell Miss West to the highest bidder and liquidate your club into nothing.”
He presses the gun into my ribs. “If you have any last words, say them now.”
Dash has moved himself in front of Keeley like a shield. Diesel drifting closer to Mace. All my brothers are shifting into positions only they seem to know.
I don’t know what is coming, but I brace for something, anyway.
“Money,” I grind out the words, “doesn’t buy loyalty.”
An arm wraps around Morozov’s throat, a gun pressed to his head. The barrel against my side pulls back before it disappears completely.
“Breathe and I’ll redecorate the walls,” Howler snarls as he pushes the barrel harder into Morozov’s head.
Blackjack steps into view, grinning. “You look like shit.”
I laugh, wobbly and choked. “I feel worse.”
What the fuck are they doing here?