63. Sydney
sixty-three
sydney
I don’t know when I lost consciousness, but I come back with a bolt of electricity. My body goes rigid, from sleep to pain. It arcs through me for another second, then stops.
I sag and slowly open my eyes. There’s nothing to see, though. When I drag in a sharp breath, the fabric of the bag presses against my open mouth. My body aches. It takes me a minute to figure out where my limbs are.
My wrists are over my head. I’m vertical—barely. Most of my weight rests on my shoulders. My fingers are numb. I reach for the floor with my toes and just scrape it. I struggle for a minute before I can take some of my weight there.
Immediately, my shoulders burn with the release.
That same chuckle comes back to me.
A second later, I’m doused with cold water. I thrash, losing my footing. Dull pain radiates from my shoulders across my back and up my arms, ending at my wrists. Everything above it may as well be gone.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Blood coats my tongue and grounds me to the present. Chains me here, really. I focus on the copper taste. Not my welling panic, which will overtake me at any moment. Not the bone-chilling cold now prickling at my skin.
Not the way my clothes are roughly stripped off my body.
I kick out. My bare foot connects with something soft, and a wheezing grunt reaches my ears.
Suddenly, the hood is whipped off my head, and the huge guy in the new clown mask looms in front of me.
Bear.
It’s Bear. Whatever his fucking real name is—it flees my mind as pure terror takes over. I try to gain purchase on the floor, to back away from him, but my now-bare feet get no traction on the wet concrete.
He undoes his belt, his gloved fingers slipping it out of the loops too easily. It comes free with a snap, and I flinch. His eyes aren’t blocked by this mask. He’s so close that I catch his pupils dilating at my reaction.
Goosebumps rise on my skin. The horror of knowing what’s coming curls in the pit of my stomach. He steps up closer, until the mask is almost touching my face.
He laughs.
With quick movements, he wraps the belt around my neck. He pulls it tight enough to cut off most of my air. I open and close my mouth, only able to draw in a whistling trickle of oxygen. He moves behind me, finicking with something. The belt gets tighter. My eyes bug out, and I thrash without warning.
It loosens a fraction.
When he comes back around, it dawns on me that he secured it at that tightness somehow.
He reaches around and flips the tail of the belt over my shoulder. “Like a little leash,” he sneers. “What do you think?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The leather pushes at my throat, containing everything.
“It’s a good look on her,” another man says from behind me. “Did she think you were talking to her?”
Bear laughs. “She’ll learn. Pets don’t talk back.”
If only looks could kill—he’d drop dead in an instant.
I choke on my own retort and struggle to bring myself back under control. Bear watches me behind the mask that will undoubtedly feature in new nightmares.
“She still has some spark in her,” the man comments.
He moves into my line of vision. He, unlike Bear, isn’t wearing a mask. He resembles him, though.
Brother .
Older. He’s got a full beard, dark eyes, a cap obscuring the hair. He’s not as tall as Bear—he’s the one I confused for Penn. Or Oliver. Although watching him now, I have no idea how I could’ve made that mistake.
Where Penn and Oliver are lean, their muscles streamlined to be fast on the ice, Bear’s brother is bulky. His shoulders are wide, his biceps straining against his long-sleeve t-shirt. He picks up a small black box. Attached to the top of it is a clamp with red rubber handles.
There’s another one that isn’t attached to anything.
I can’t even fucking swallow. I stare at the brother. Bear moves out of the way, his arms crossing. The brother picks up the free clamp and reaches out.
In slow motion, he touches it to my stomach.
Instantly, agony arcs through me. I want to open my mouth and scream, but every muscle is rigid. My jaw clenches so hard, it’s a wonder my teeth don’t crack.
When he pulls away, I fall. My shoulders scream.
“Again?” he asks. He brushes my hair out of my face, then slaps my cheek. “I said—again?”
I shake my head.
He laughs. “Do you know why you’re here?”
I shake my head again. Beyond the vague idea that Bear has some unfinished business with me—but is it really me, or is it Oliver and Penn who he has the issue with? They’re the ones who stopped him after Oliver dangled me like bait.
“My brother will never play hockey again.” He touches my rib with the metal clamp.
A high-pitched whine fills my ears. I know nothing but pain, like everything inside me is being ripped apart and set on fire. It’s only when he removes the clamp and the noise continues that I realize it’s me.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I can’t catch my breath—it’s like my lungs have vaporized, leaving nothing but blood. There’s blood in my mouth, too.
“He just wanted a little taste.” He reaches down and tugs at the hem of my panties. “And your boyfriends… you have a few, don’t you? That’s what Bear said. You’re pretty enough to pull a few guys, but at the same time? You really must be a slut.”
He sneers.
“Which is why it’s even more pathetic that you can’t open your legs for one more.” He glances back and motions to Bear.
My gaze sticks on the former hockey player. He limps to a far wall in the nondescript room. I only now notice the higher-than-normal ceilings, the fluorescent tube lighting shining steadily above our heads. Up, up, up… my wrists are secured by chains which thread up and over a pipe on the ceiling, then down to where Bear now stands.
He undoes it, feeding the chain an inch, then two.
The balls of my feet touch the floor, then I’m flat-footed. My elbows bend slightly, my shoulders pulsing as they no longer strain to hold me up.
The brother tilts his head, watching me. “Do you know where we are?”
I frown. How the hell would I know that?"
“Bear,” the brother says. “Show her.”
Bear, now clearly reduced to being a lackey, goes to the only door in the room. He opens it wide, exposing the large, open warehouse floor.
There’s even still a circle drawn in chalk in the center.
White spots flicker in the edges of my vision. If I don’t breathe calmly and slowly, I don’t breathe at all. But it’s hard to focus on that when the realization slips into me.
I’m bait once again.
“There’s just one more thing,” the brother whispers. There’s a glimmer of a blade in his hand.
He kicks my legs apart.
No, no, no ?—
The fight bursts back into me, and I kick at him as hard as I can. He twists at the last second, letting my foot glance off his thigh.
He touches the clamp to my side. The pain is an overload. I can barely process outside of the million simultaneous stings.
It stops, and he backs away. I’m once again hanging by my wrists, but I have no energy to try and get my feet back under me.
“Insurance,” he repeats.
Bear jerks, suddenly shoving the mask up to the top of his head. His wide eyes are locked on my body. “What did you do?”
“Nothing she doesn’t deserve,” his brother spits. “Now let’s go.”
He grabs him and hauls him out the door. They don’t even bother closing it behind them. Their footsteps recede, although where they go, I have no idea.
Just breathe .
I take a shallow breath. The belt around my neck feels claustrophobic. It holds all my panic, which rises like an unstoppable tide and stops just short of exploding out of me.
Slowly, I push myself to my feet and take stock of the rest of me.
There’s something wet between my thighs. Running down my left leg.
I look down and whimper.
Blood.
A lot of it.