Chapter 17 Holley
Seventeen
Holley
The morning starts out so normal it feels like a lie.
The kind of morning that tricks you into thinking the world is steady, that nothing bad is lurking behind the next minute.
Sunlight filters through the kitchen window at the Hellions’ compound, hitting the coffee pot just right.
Tony is in the garage, already cursing at someone for stripping a bolt.
And Tiffany—his daughter—leans against the counter finishing her drink, looking like a woman made of steel and sarcasm.
“You ready?” she asks, lifting her brow at me.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say, adjusting the strap of the tote bag I’m bringing.
We’re going into town for groceries. Simple.
Harmless. A chance for me to get to know her better because—let’s be honest—I have absolutely no idea how to be around people Tony loves.
I want her to like me. Not because that’s required, but because the thought of disappointing Tony in that way feels… unbearable.
She smirks, clearly reading my nerves. “Relax. You’ll be fine. Worst-case scenario, you pick out the wrong brand of coffee beans and he sulks for a week.”
“That’s worst-case?” I squint my eyes at her, “he didn’t drink coffee when we were together. Did I miss a cue?”
She smiles. “You pass.”
“Huh?”
“Look in this world women are a dime a dozen. I brought up coffee to see if you paid attention to my dad for more than the orgasms he gives you. You passed the test.”
“Does he sulk?”
She nods, “that is as bad as it will get unless you do something dumb.” She moves. “Trust me,” she says, heading for the door, “in this family sulking is a cake walk to some of the things these men will do to get a point across.”
I laugh, grabbing my jacket.
The air outside is crisp. Clean. A hint of lingering winter.
For the first time in days, I almost feel normal.
I almost feel safe.
We head into town in Tiffany’s Jeep—windows cracked, music low, her drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. She’s tough the way Tony is tough. Not loud. Not posturing. Just… grounded. Someone who’s been through enough hard things to know she doesn’t need to prove a damn thing.
“So,” she says ten minutes into the drive, “what exactly is going on with you and my dad?”
I nearly choke on my own breath. “Oh—I—um—well—”
She laughs, a full, amused bark of sound. “Relax. I’m not vetting you. Much.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I know,” she grins, “but it’s fun.”
She turns onto the main road leading toward the grocery store. The town is small, the kind where people nod at stoplights because they recognize your vehicle. Not where I grew up.
“You don’t have to explain everything,” she says, her voice softer now. “He likes you. I can tell.”
My stomach flips. “He… does?”
“Please,” she mutters. “The man’s been unbearable since he got back from vacation. Broody. Irritable. Snapping at people who don’t deserve it. That only happens when something gets under his skin.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”
“You aren’t.” She glances at me. “You’re the first good thing I’ve seen him tangled up in for a long time.”
My heart squeezes. “I don’t know what I am to him. Or what he wants from—”
A car swerves into our lane.
“Jesus,” Tiffany mutters, honking once and maneuvering around it.
It doesn’t move.
It slows.
Then speeds up.
Then slows again.
“Okay…” Tiffany frowns. “What the hell is this person doing?”
A cold ripple moves through my spine.
The car in front of us—the blue sedan—has tinted windows. Too dark. Too familiar.
No.
No, it can’t be.
“He’s following us,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
“Who?” Tiffany says sharply.
I stare at the sedan. My breath shortens. My palms sweat.
“It can’t be—”
But it is.
Even before the car suddenly jumps forward, cutting us off so aggressively Tiffany slams the brakes— I know.
My blood turns to ice.
“Hold on!” Tiffany shoutss.
The sedan screeches sideways, blocking the entire road. There’s nowhere to go—ditches on either side, a steep drop beyond that.
“Back up,” I choke out. “We have to back up—Tiff—”
She throws the Jeep into reverse—
—but another car appears behind us.
Black SUV. Dark windows. Creeping forward like it’s waiting.
Boxing us in.
No. No no no—
“Holley,” Tiffany says, her voice dropping into something cold and steady. “Who is this?”
Before I can answer, the sedan’s front door opens.
And my nightmare steps out.
My ex-husband—Eric Colson.
He looks exactly the same and nothing like himself all at once. Same perfect hair. Same well-tailored jacket. Same expensive shoes unsuited for dirty Southern back roads.
But his eyes—
His eyes are wrong.
Sunken. Sharp. Wild.
He’s smiling.
Smiling like he’s found something he lost.
“Oh god,” I whisper. “No.”
His voice carries across the quiet road, cheerful and cruel.
“Holls! You’ve been very, very hard to find.”
Tiffany reacts immediately—hand diving for her phone.
She doesn’t make it.
A man from the SUV slams his fist against her window, shattering glass inward. Tiffany cries out but doesn’t lose grip on the wheel.
“Get OUT!” the man bellows.
Everything becomes chaos.
Hands wrench my door open. Fingers clamp around my wrists. I scream, kicking wildly, but someone grabs my legs. My back hits the pavement. A cloth presses over my mouth—chemical, suffocating, sweet and burning.
Not chloroform.
Something cheaper.
Something worse.
Tiffany fights like hell—because of course she does—but they drag her out too, kicking and punching and yelling curses that would make grown men flinch. She’s tiny at five feet tall, not that I’m much taller. These men easily toss us around.
“Tiff!” I scream, or try to—the cloth muffles everything.
Someone grabs my hair, yanking my head back.
Eric crouches over me.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he croons. “Stop making this difficult.”
I thrash harder. Because I’m not that woman anymore, not the obedient wife he built and broke. A fist cracks across my cheek and stars explode behind my eyes.
It doesn’t knock me out.
But it steals my strength.
Tiffany is shoved into the SUV. She’s still fighting. Still screaming. Someone hits her, knocking her to her knees.
“Tiff!” I cry again.
And Eric laughs.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” he says. “She’s worth plenty. Pretty thing like that? Strong? Fighters fetch more.”
The words don’t register.
Not fully.
Not until he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You owe me,” he hisses quietly. “And I’ve finally found a way for you to pay.”
I can’t wrap my head around it. Then darkness closes in.
I wake to cold concrete against my cheek.
A warehouse.
Dim. Damp. Echoing with dripping pipes somewhere in the distance.
My throat burns from the chemicals. My wrists ache—zip tied behind my back. My ankles too.
A groan nearby snaps me fully awake.
“Tiff?” I croak.
She’s tied to a support beam, blood smeared at the corner of her mouth. But she lifts her head the second she hears me.
“Holley,” she rasps. “Babe, you okay?”
No one’s ever called me babe like that—fierce, protective, terrified.
“I’m okay,” I lie. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine. I’ve had worse,” she mutters. “Not loving the ambiance, though.”
I almost laugh. It comes out a broken sound.
Footsteps echo.
Tiffany’s jaw clenches.
He steps into view.
Eric.
Still smiling.
Two men flank him—one adjusting brass knuckles, the other checking his phone like they’re waiting for lunch orders.
“Good,” Eric says brightly. “You’re awake.”
“What do you want?” Tiffany spits, her eyes burning.
Eric chuckles. “Oh, sweetheart, I don't want anything from you. You’re just a bonus.”
He turns to me.
And his expression shifts—grows darker, colder, meaner than I’ve ever seen.
“You owe me, Holley.”
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t owe you anything.”
He crouches in front of me, tapping my cheek gently where the bruise blooms.
“Oh, but you do. I invested years in you. Then you left me to deal with the fallout. The debt collectors. The judgments. The humiliation. Made it out to be my fault. You didn’t work hard enough.”
“You did that to yourself—”
He backhands me.
White-hot pain explodes.
Tiffany lunges against her restraint, snarling. “Touch her again and I’ll tear your throat out!”
Eric wipes his hand casually. “You Hellion women really are something. Fiery. Loud. Very marketable. I learned a lot when I went on a deep dive on the dark web.”
He strolls toward her, examining her like she’s livestock. “Your family has enemies. There are people who will pay big money to punish a Hellion.”
I feel sick.
“Tiffany,” he says slowly, “you’re worth far more than Holley ever was. Beautiful. Strong. Defiant. Some very wealthy men prefer a challenge. Then there are the ones who want to get at Smoke.”
She spits in his face.
He wipes it off, unfazed. “I could break you,” he murmurs. “But that reduces your value.”
“What do you want?” I choke out. “Money?”
“Oh, sweet girl,” he laughs, turning back to me, “I want freedom. I want the debt erased. I want the men I owe to stop breathing down my neck. And lucky for me…”
He gestures between us.
“…you two are more than enough to cover everything.”
My stomach drops.
He’s not threatening us to scare us.
He’s making a business transaction.
“Eric,” I whisper, trembling. “Please—don’t do this.”
“Oh, Holley. You always were too gentle to survive without me. But don’t worry—this time I’ll make sure you don’t run.”
A sob tears from my throat.
He cups my chin again.
“You should never have left me.”
Then he stands, brushing off his hands like he’s finished with paperwork.
“Prepare them,” he tells his men. “We leave in thirty.” I don’t know who they are or where he got them from.
Tiffany swears under her breath. “Holley,” she says urgently when they move away. “Holley. Look at me.”
I do.
Her eyes burn with fury and something else—fear, yes, but also iron.
“We’re not dying today,” she says fiercely. “We’re not disappearing. We’re not letting that psychopath win.”
“Tiff, we’re tied, we’re outnumbered, we’re—”
“Holley.” Her voice sharpens. “My dad is going to burn the world down to find us. Do you understand me? He’s coming. The Hellions are coming. We just have to hang on.”
A sob shakes my chest.
Because I believe her.
I really do.
“He’ll find us,” she says again. “He always does.”
But even as she whispers it, I hear Eric laughing in the next room.
And I know—Tony is running out of time.