Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
PHOENIX
The rope bites into my wrists.
I flex my hands behind my back, testing the give. Nothing. The knots are tight enough that my fingers have started to go numb. I can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since they threw me in this chair and trussed me up like a fucking turkey.
My ankles are bound to the chair legs, the rough cordage sawing painfully even through the thick fabric of my jeans.
The burlap sack is still tied over my head. Every breath I take pulls musty air through the loose weave, coating the back of my throat with the taste of rotted potatoes.
But underneath the discomfort, underneath the growing ache in my shoulders and the numbness creeping up from my fingertips—
I’m furious.
When I get my hands on whoever did this, they’ll be lucky if I draw the line at traumatic castration.
I hear booted footsteps echoing on concrete only moments before the burlap is ripped off without warning.
I gasp, blinking against sudden harsh light. A single bare bulb swings overhead, casting moving shadows across concrete walls. Chunks of hair are stuck to my face with sweat and I’m sure I look like I survived a tornado.
But I’m not going to look terrible and give them the satisfaction of looking scared. All I need to do is channel one of the women I’ve played in movies who always inevitably get captured by the villain.
So I lift my chin and meet Aaron Keenan’s gaze with every ounce of rage I possess.
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
My voice comes out confident, like I’m not the one tied to a chair with three bikers staring down at me.
I guess I’m a better actress than I thought.
Aaron’s mouth curves into a smirk that makes my skin crawl. “Seems to me this is working out pretty well so far.”
He circles behind my chair, the metal fixtures on his boots making an ominous jingle. I track him through sound alone, refusing to crane my neck to follow. Won’t give him the power of knowing he’s making me nervous.
I inject as much boredom into my tone as I can manage. “Assault. Kidnapping. You really want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“Cute.” Aaron reappears in my peripheral vision, still circling. “You think pointing out that I’m adding to a long list of crimes is going to what? Make me let you go?”
“I think it might make you reconsider before you do something even dumber.”
“You’ll be disappointed.”
The other bikers shift in the shadows. I can make out their shapes now that my eyes have adjusted, two of them are the same assholes who were with Aaron at the lobster festival.
The third is younger, maybe early twenties, and he won’t meet my eyes.
He keeps looking at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but directly at me.
File that away.
Aaron stops in front of me, legs spread in an aggressive stance obviously intending to intimidate. His leather vest is open, showing off a burly chest covered in enough hair that just the sight of it makes me want to gag.
“You’re going to fetch me a pretty penny if your rich boyfriend ever wants to see you again.”
I assume he means Atticus and roll my eyes. “I have my own money, genius. I’ll take you to an ATM right now if that’s all this is about.”
Aaron laughs.”Think I’m stupid, little girl. ATMs have cameras and your accounts will be flagged as soon as you’re reported missing, so the cops’ll show up as soon as I swipe your card. Nice try, though.”
I glare at him. “My pack will find me.”
“Your pack?” He slaps his knee, the gesture so theatrical it would be funny in different circumstances.
“You talking about those soy boys you’ve been hanging around with?
I don’t think so. Judah Daniels is entirely dickless and Dominic Romano has been washed up since he was fourteen.
I doubt the two you brought with you could do much better. ”
“You weren’t saying that when they chased you away at the festival.”
The humor evaporates, his expression turning dangerous. “I’d like to be there if they grow the balls to try. Unfortunately for both of us, I won’t get the chance to put them in the ground. No one is going to come looking for you here.”
“They’re coming,” I continue, voice soft and deadly. “And when they get here, you better hope the cops get to you first. Because what Judah, Dom, Atticus and Mason will do to you? Prison will seem like a vacation.”
Aaron’s expression hardens.
The backhand connects with my cheek hard enough to snap my head sideways.
Pain explodes across my face, and I taste blood where my teeth catch the inside of my cheek. My vision blurs with involuntary tears that I absolutely refuse to let fall no matter how much my eyes burn.
I spit blood onto the concrete at his feet and look up at him through the hair that’s fallen across my face. “Big man, slapping a woman tied to a chair.”
“That the best you got?”
He raises his hand again.
“VP?” The nervous biker—the young one who won’t meet my eyes—shifts his weight. “Uh, what if no one pays?”
Aaron’s hand drops. His head swivels toward the kid with a look that could strip paint.
“What?”
“I mean…” The kid swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. “Is there a backup plan? If her people don’t pay?”
“A backup plan? Of course there fucking is.” Aaron’s smile returns. He crouches down so we’re eye level and I jerk my head away.
Icy cold floods my veins and I tear my gaze away.
The other Sinners exchange glances. Subtle, but I catch it. They didn’t all know there was a backup plan.
His hand shoots out to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’ll pump her so full of heat inducers that she forgets her own name, then claim her for myself.”
Not again.
I thrash against the restraints. The chair scrapes across concrete, tipping slightly before gravity pulls it back down. My wrists burn where the rope cuts deeper.
“You’re fucking insane—“
His breath is hot against my face, reeking of cigarettes and stale beer. “Right here. On this dirty floor. Make you mine in every way that matters. Even if someone eventually finds you, you’ll never be free of me.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s the idea, you little bitch.” Aaron’s voice lowers to a register that makes my skin feel like it’s crawling off my body. “The bond will make you crave me, eventually. That’s just biology. You’ll fight it at first. But your omega nature will betray you, just like it’s supposed to.”
“Just if no one pays,” one of the bikers says.
Aaron’s smile is feral. “Of course.”
Pushing past the terror and revulsion threatening to overtake me, I look past at the nervous kid. “We can add sexual assault to the list of crimes. I bet that’s what you signed up for, right?”
The kid flinches.
“Go guard the door, boy,” Aaron snaps. “Before you end up worse off than she ever will.”
The kid ducks his head and scurries away.
“You can still stop this,” I yell. The tense set of the kid’s shoulders is the only hint he might actually be listening. “Before they do something you can’t come back from.”
Aaron scoffs. “Don’t waste your breath. You’re here until I say otherwise.”
When his gaze returns to me, I glare back at him.
Aaron rises to his feet, studying me with an expression that makes my skin crawl. The bare bulb overhead casts his face in sharp relief—all hard angles and predatory satisfaction.
“Can’t decide what I want more,” he muses. “The million dollars? Or the chance to break you.”
I force my voice to stay steady. “A million dollar ransom? You’re dreaming if you think anyone’s going to give you that kind of money.”
The smile that spreads across his face is all teeth and no warmth.
“Guess I’ll have to get you to work the debt off instead.
” He tilts his head, considering me the way someone might consider livestock at auction.
“Wonder how many alphas I can get to pay me for the chance before I’ve made a ransom’s worth off your ass.
Bet there’s plenty who’d shell out good money for a few hours with Phoenix Riviera, especially if you’re all docile and heat-drunk. ”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. My brain has completely stalled, unable to process what he’s suggesting.
He’s going to traffic me.
My stomach heaves.
“That’s what I thought.” Aaron straightens, clearly satisfied by whatever he sees on my face. “Not running that smart mouth so fast now, huh?”
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. The concrete walls seem to press inward, the single bulb overhead swinging wider, casting shadows that lurch and twist like living things.
This can’t be happening.
Aaron heads for the door, boots echoing off concrete. His hand finds the light switch.
“Get comfortable, sweetheart. You’re gonna be here a while.”
The lights go out.
Darkness swallows everything—absolute, suffocating, complete. I can’t see my own hands, can’t see the chair I’m tied to, can’t see anything except the thin line of light bleeding under what must be a door somewhere ahead of me.
The sound of a lock engaging echoes through the space.
Then footsteps. Fading. Growing distant.
Then nothing.
Just me and the dark and the rope cutting into my wrists and the taste of blood still coating my tongue.