Chapter 4
FOUR
Devlin
At first, I’d waited for the big man to come back. The lion king. I’d sat on that cot, hands bound behind my back, cock a painful spike in my pants, and I’d waited. And waited… I’d waited until my shoulders ached and my dick gave up and wilted.
Then rage kicked in like a boot to the balls. I’d hollered and screamed until my chest had heaved and my throat was raw. Until fatigue finally set in and I’d slumped onto my side and drifted off to sleep.
My nightmares had shifted over the years. I used to wake up to the sound of my father’s taunts in my ears, the phantom burn of his hands twisting the skin on my arms, the taste of bile in my mouth.
But ever since I’d woken up in that hospital bed a year ago, my nightmares had narrowed to the same one, playing over and over again. And this time, the imagery was even more vivid than usual.
I was in an empty room with no windows and no doors.
I beat my fists against freezing metal walls, while the floor beneath my bare feet was lava-hot.
Invisible hands tossed me around the room.
Smashed into my face and my ribs as blood splattered the floor.
But there was no one here with me. I was alone. So utterly alone. Confused. In pain.
“Please, let me out,” I begged, voice breaking. “Please stop. It hurts. I’m dying.”
Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared.
And I hated what came next.
One wall rippled, and a door appeared. Hope—that bitch—surged in my chest as freedom materialized right in front of me.
The floor seared my skin, leaving bloody streaks behind me as I crawled toward the exit.
I reached up toward the doorknob with a blistered hand, despair already clogging my throat.
The wall rippled again, and the door in front of me disappeared.
Just like it always did.
The death of that hope in my chest hurt worse than any beating ever could.
My body jolted from a different kind of pain, and my mind clawed its way back to consciousness.
I blinked in the dim light and realized I was in a much different room than the one in my head.
I’d fallen off the cot onto the floor, and my chains rattled as I struggled to sit up and take in my surroundings.
The cot pillow had landed nearby, and my shirt was twisted around my torso.
My face felt wet, and I shook my head, easing myself back onto the cot as I struggled to free myself from the nightmare’s lingering grip.
Sometime later, the door finally opened.
I straightened immediately, expecting the lion king, but all I got were two more minions.
Really? Sending in minions? I was the Detroit Devil, for fuck’s sake.
I deserved the attention of the man in charge, not these idiots.
Still disoriented and angry, I asked, “Where’s the big guy? ”
No answer. Not even eye contact.
“Hey!” I barked, kicking at their legs. “Where is he?”
The closest minion sidestepped my attempt, and his brown eyes met mine for a split second before he looked away like he’d been burned.
They’d cuffed my hands in front of me and chained them to the side of the cot, leaving me just enough slack to walk around the small room. They gave me a protein bar and a lukewarm bottle of water. They kicked an empty bucket in my direction.
And then they left. Just like that.
No words.
No fucking nothing.
I ripped the wrapper off the protein bar with my teeth, then bit into it angrily. What the fuck was this shit? Where was the physical torture? When were they going to take a hammer to my knees, rip out some fingernails, or pull a molar?
Hours passed. How many, I couldn’t be sure.
I drank all the water and pissed in the bucket.
Fiddled with the cuffs. Slept. When the two grunts returned, they were wearing different clothes.
Had it already been a whole day? Had the sun set and risen again?
They gave me another protein bar, but this time I threw it at them.
What the hell were they doing—fattening me up for slaughter?
“Get me the big guy! The one with the lion on his throat. Where the fuck is he?” I wanted him back. Now.
When I wouldn’t accept the protein bar, they tossed it on the cot and left. Again, not a word. No eye contact. Total shutout.
“Fuck you!” I yelled at the closed door. And then I raged—flailing my limbs and kicking the cot and toppling my bucket—acting like a fucking toddler until I grew winded and had to sit down. “Fuck!” I screamed again. Just for good measure.
All in all, I had to admit my captivity should’ve been way worse.
Maybe this was just the warm-up. Maybe they had all kinds of fun tools they were lining up before the main event.
Maybe I should have been shitting my pants with dread at the thought of pain.
Not that I was going to be shitting my pants anytime soon if they kept feeding me those protein bars…
At this rate, I’d already be backed up for weeks.
But the only thing I dreaded was not seeing the lion king again.
I wondered what his name was. I thought back to any conversations I’d had with Patrick, trying to remember if he’d ever told me he had a son.
But I could only recall having a few face-to-face meetings with him, and they’d all been strictly business.
Sometimes he’d traveled with a few men, but never him.
Not once. Patrick might have been a big man, but he hadn’t been as big as his son.
His eyes had been a lot less intense, too.
When he’d interacted with his men, he was more of a bully than a leader.
And to me, he’d been a means to an end. Just another cog in the wheel of my empire.
But that didn’t mean I’d wanted him dead.
I took the time to explore my makeshift prison.
I stood on my cot and searched the corners for cameras.
Then I teetered on top of my upturned bucket at different spots around the room, repeating the process.
I still wasn’t sure where I was. All I knew was that whenever the door opened, I caught a sliver of sky, some grass, and a looming building in the distance.
So I was, what, in a shed? A garage? A storage container?
My cell looked like it had been built to hold a captive.
A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, the only source of light.
The walls had to be soundproofed, since I couldn’t hear any outside noise.
My cot was screwed into both the floor and the wall, so there was no moving it.
And there were no windows. No sharp objects.
Nothing. Just a cot, a bucket, and my body.
Which was well on its way to smelling at this point.
I sniffed my armpits and sighed, wondering what I looked like. Probably like ass.
I lost track of time. I lost count of how often the men came to feed and ignore me.
I slept a lot—the nightmare sweat like a permanent film on my skin.
I etched grooves into the metal on my cot using the cuffs on my wrists.
I stared at the wall. I lost my mind at one point. Got it back. Ate another protein bar.
Then, I made a plan. When the men came back, I was going to be ready.
I was going to attack. I obviously wouldn’t get far, since I was chained to this damn cot, but I was ready to fuck some shit up.
They were going to pay attention to me. I was going to kick and flail and scream until they were forced to get the lion king.
They’d make him come handle me personally.
I licked my lips, wishing I had more water. So fucking ready.
I sat on my cot and stared holes through the door, teeth bared.
It finally opened, and I braced for the two minions I’d dealt with before.
Instead, a different shadow stretched from the doorway across the floor of my prison, backlit by blinding sunlight.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting, and realized my prayers had been answered.
My lion king had come back.
He shut the door behind him, and the click of the lock made my heart race. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stood with his feet braced apart, unmoving. I’d noticed his tattooed hands before, but now I saw them clearly—massive lion paws, claws stretching down each finger.
“Where have you been?” I snapped, because I had no self-preservation skills.
I waited for the blow, but it never came. Instead, his expression remained carefully blank. Not even the twitch of a claw-covered finger.
“What route did the Bonnams use when they ran guns for you?”
Really? He’d finally shown up after days of silence, and this was what he said to me? I narrowed my eyes. Fuck him. Now that he’d brought up business, I felt like I’d been drenched in ice water.
I snorted. “Fuck off. Just kill me and avenge your father. Let’s get this over with.”
“Don’t act stupid. No one in my position, in this entire country, would kill Devlin Walsh without getting information first.”
Well, that was too bad. I wasn’t going to give him shit.
The longer I held out, the more time he’d spend trying to get information out of me.
Him. Not his minions. He was the type of man who had others dump my piss bucket, but he would never assign the all-important job of torture-for-information to anyone else.
He wasn’t that type of leader. I just knew it.
“I don’t know any Bonnams,” I lied.
He drew closer, and something in his blue gaze set off a warning flare in my head. Which I ignored. Anything to break up the monotony of captivity and keep him in my sights.
“Is this really the game you want to play, devil?”
Yes. Yes it was. This was the exact game I wanted to play—at least, I was pretty sure it was… I might feel differently once he brought out the hammer and pliers.
Then again, I’d had my jaw shattered a year ago, and the physical pain was nothing next to the hollowness in my chest I’d been living with ever since.
So, yeah. Bring on the fucking games, lion king.