Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
River
I watched Layla sleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Hours had passed since our captors had dumped us in this hellhole. The air was thick and stifling, heavy with the scent of our sweat. My wrists ached from the bite of the handcuffs, the metal warm against my skin. I flexed my fingers, trying to keep the blood flowing.
Layla stirred slightly, a small whimper escaping her lips. I wondered what nightmares plagued her sleep. Did she dream of shipping containers and leering men? Or was her subconscious conjuring new horrors to torment her?
My eye traced the line of her throat, lingering on the pulse that fluttered beneath her skin. She was beautiful in a feral way, all coiled strength and barely contained gorgeous violence. Even now, beaten and bound, she radiated power.
I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position against the unforgiving concrete wall. The movement sent a jolt of pain through my body.
My mind drifted, remembering the first time I'd seen her—a whirlwind of rage and sexiness as she stormed into Raul's office. She'd captivated me from that moment, her fire igniting something long dormant within my dead heart. That spark had grown into an inferno.
I'd never cared for a woman before. Had never allowed myself to feel anything besides bloodlust. I didn’t fuck. I didn’t kiss or flirt or encourage any sort of affection. Attachment was weakness, a luxury I couldn't afford, and the thought of hands all over my skin made me want to fucking peel it off.
But not hers. No, her hands could touch me. Her skin under my palms had felt like the softest silk, and not once did it make me recoil. Actually, it was the opposite. When I strummed her clit, making her come on my fingers and tongue, it was like opening my eye for the first time in years. Like I took my first real breath after two decades of drowning.
The creak of the door upstairs shattered the stillness. My muscles tensed instinctively, every sense on high alert. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, echoing off the concrete walls.
Three men in dark suits appeared, their faces obscured by black tactical masks. They dragged a limp form between them—Alex. His head lolled to the side, eyes unfocused and glassy. Drugged.
They tossed him unceremoniously to the floor. The dull thud of his body hitting the ground jolted Layla awake. Her eyes flew open, instantly alert despite hours of unconsciousness.
The men turned towards her, their intent clear. Something primal and vicious clawed its way up my throat as they reached for her.
"Don't fucking touch her," I hissed, barely sounding human. "I'll rip your fucking throats out with my teeth. I'll bathe in your blood and piss on your corpses."
The fury that surged through me was white-hot, searing away all reason. I strained against the cuffs, feeling the metal bite into my flesh. Blood trickled down my wrists, but I barely noticed the pain.
"I'll hunt down everyone you've ever loved," I promised, baring my teeth like a rabid animal. "I'll make them suffer in ways you can't even imagine. You think you know pain? I'll tear you apart piece by piece. Make you beg for death before I'm done."
The men paused, turning to look at me. Even with their faces obscured, I could sense their unease. Good. They should be afraid.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Layla's elbow shot back, catching her captor in the gut. As he doubled over, she brought her knee up hard, smashing his nose with a sickening crunch.
The man's pained howl was music to my ears as Layla's knee connected with his face. Blood sprayed from his shattered nose, staining the grimy concrete. For a moment, fierce pride swelled in my chest.
Then everything went to hell.
The second man's boot slammed into Layla's stomach with brutal force. The air left her lungs in a whoosh. Rage exploded through me, white-hot and all-consuming. I surged to my feet. "I'll fucking kill you!"
The third man turned to face me, his stance wary. Smart. He should be afraid. From the corner of my eye, I saw Alex struggling to his feet. His movements were sluggish, uncoordinated, but fury burned in his glassy eyes as he fought against whatever drugs were in his system.
Layla gasped for breath, curled around herself on the filthy floor. The sight of her in pain, vulnerable, sent fresh waves of fury coursing through my veins. I yanked at the cuffs again. The pain was irrelevant. Nothing mattered except getting to Layla.
The man turned to fend me off, but I was faster. I lunged forward, my teeth bared in a feral snarl. My teeth sank into the soft flesh of his throat, tearing through skin and muscle. The coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth as I ripped and tore, feeling arteries rupture beneath my assault. The man's scream gurgled wetly as his windpipe collapsed.
He staggered back, hands clutching uselessly at the ragged hole where his throat used to be. Blood gushed between his fingers, spattering the grimy concrete. The metallic scent of it filled the air, intoxicating and familiar.
His eyes, visible through the holes in his mask, were wide with shock as he stumbled backwards. The other two men stood frozen, paralyzed with fear. I spat out a mouthful of gore, my lips curling back from bloodstained teeth in a vicious grin.
The dying man's knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor with a wet thud. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the carpet. His chest heaved once, twice, and then went still.
I turned to Layla, my heart seizing as I saw her crumpled form. Her head had struck the wall when she fell, a trickle of blood matting her bronze hair. Her eyes were closed, face slack in unconsciousness.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Alex moving with surprising speed for someone fucked up on drugs. He lunged at one of the remaining men, throwing his cuffed arms over the bastard's head. The chain of the handcuffs pressed against the man's throat as Alex yanked back, cutting off his air supply.
The man's legs kicked uselessly as he struggled, hands clawing at the unyielding metal crushing his windpipe. His mask slipped, revealing wide, panicked eyes and lips turning blue from lack of oxygen.
I could hear the wet, strangled sounds of the man's desperate attempts to breathe. His struggles grew weaker, movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated as his brain was starved of oxygen. A dark satisfaction unfurled in my chest as I watched the life slowly drain from him.
The last man cursed, turning and fleeing back up the stairs. I watched dispassionately as the last tremors wracked the body of the man in Alex’s grip. When he went limp, Alex let the corpse drop to the floor with a dull thud.
I moved to the first man I'd killed, the acrid tang of blood and released bowels filling my nostrils. I fished through his pockets until my fingers closed around cool metal. The knife was a cheap switchblade, but it would do.
The lock on my cuffs gave way with a satisfying click. I tossed the blade to Alex without a word, my attention already fixed on Layla.
Blood matted her hair where her head had struck the wall, the coppery scent calling to the primal part of me that still thirsted for violence. I focused on the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. For now.
I gathered her in my arms, her body feeling small and fragile against my bulk. It was easy to forget how tiny she was when her personality filled a room. Now, unconscious, she seemed almost delicate. The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.
Her skin was cool to the touch, pulse thready beneath my fingers as I checked her neck. A growl rumbled in my throat. Whoever was responsible for this would pay dearly.