Chapter 9
The next stretch of time passes in a blur. A dark, wet, horrifying blur.
I fight back. Of course I do. I kick out at the guy who grabbed me and make jabbing motions toward his face, hoping to get his eyes.
I’m not sure what part of his body I hurt, but he howls and clobbers me hard. After that, I can’t do much of anything.
But at least the details of it don’t fully penetrate my brain.
I’m convinced—absolutely positive—that I’m going to be gang-raped right there on the side of the road. Right next to Pete’s dead body.
It’s a miracle I’m not.
But one of the guys, one who sounds like he might be a leader, says there are too many people hereabouts, and it’s not safe to hang around right here any longer. Besides, he wants to get me somewhere safe and dry to get me cleaned up so they can see what they’re dealing with.
The other guys grumble but don’t argue. My feet and hands are tied with ropes, and I’m bundled into the back of one of the pickups, surrounded by three gross-looking guys—all armed and staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.
I curl into a ball, trying to make myself as small as possible.
And I start to mentally prepare for what’s about to happen.
I’ve fucked men I don’t like before. A lot of them. I’ve had sex when I didn’t really want it. But while I never would have done it had I not been hungry and desperate, it still felt like it was partly my choice.
Nell always let us choose from the guys who bought tags for the evening. I never had to fuck the very worst ones.
This is different. This is all the worst ones. All at once. With absolutely none of Nell’s boundaries or protections. Without Trevor and Rick with their bulk and their weapons, ready to step in if things get bad.
This is… hell.
But I’ve lived through everything else life has done to me—from the time I was a toddler and my mom walked out, leaving me with my grandfather.
I can live through this too.
I think of a female duck with her small head, fragile neck, and the muted coloring on her feathers. Closing herself off to the sperm of any duck she doesn’t want. Resisting in the only way she has available.
That’s me.
I am her.
I’m going to survive this—whatever it is—and any avenue I have left to resist, I will.
I have no idea how long we drive. It’s got to be a couple of hours. Maybe longer. The trucks are bogged down by the intensifying rain, so they’re probably driving slower than they normally do.
There’s a lot of grumbling from the men. A lot of dirty talk aimed at me. But I stay curled up the whole time, processing the throbbing ache on my cheek where the one guy punched me and trying to desperately make a plan.
But there is no plan.
There are some situations that, as hard as you try, there’s nothing in the world you can do.
It feels like a lifetime of nothing changing except the rain getting harder and harder. Then the truck I’m in comes to a stop so abruptly I’m propelled against the front edge of the truck bed.
The impact really hurts.
I rub my head where it got bumped with my bound hands, screaming at myself that something is happening so now’s the time to make my move.
But what exactly can my move be? Jumping out of the truck while tied up and somehow escaping a couple dozen brutal men who will chase me down?
There’s a lot of shouting from up front. I do manage to lift my head to see.
The front pickup has somehow plowed into a huge hole in the road. How the hell did they not see it?
“Ambush!”
That’s one word I do recognize. There’s suddenly a whole lot of gunfire and even more screaming. All the guys in the back with me start aiming and shooting.
And I do what any reasonable person would do in my situation.
I huddle back down into the smallest ball I can make myself and hope I don’t get shot.
From the shouting and a few different words I pick up in the chaos, I end up with a general sense of what happened.
The Silver Wolf.
He and his crew must have hit this gang.
Maybe they’re transporting enough food and supplies that it’s a worthwhile target. He usually only hits the militia, but these guys aren’t any better than them, so maybe they’re close enough to be worth attacking. What the hell do I know?
All that matters is that, one by one, the guys in the back of the pickup with me are shot. Killed. One of their bodies almost falls on top of me, and I push back against it with both my bound feet so it doesn’t keep touching me.
I’m still scared. Terrified. I have no idea what the Silver Wolf and his crew will do to me. I’ve never heard stories of them victimizing women, but that doesn’t mean they won’t take advantage of a convenient one.
But I’m not sorry the first gang is getting destroyed. If anyone deserves it, it’s them.
Eventually the gunfire peters out. Then the shouting does too. It’s weirdly quiet when I lift my head again and try to peek over the edge of the truck to see what’s happening.
People are milling around, checking the bodies of the gang who captured me. They’re all wearing Zorro-style masks. Maybe to protect their identity or maybe to add to the Silver Wolf’s mystique. They’re not all men. I do notice that much.
That’s a hopeful sign.
Maybe.
“She’s here,” one masked guy says, surprising me by coming around the other side of the truck from me. “I got her. She’s here.”
She is evidently me.
I’m more confused than ever.
The man is smiling as he opens the back flap of the truck and drags out two of the bodies that were blocking the exit. “Come on, darlin’. You can come out now.” He gestures with his hand. “It’s safe now.”
I raise myself to my knees and stare at him, but I don’t know this man, and I’m not his darlin’. I have no idea what’s going on.
Another man strides over. He’s big. He has a thick beard and is wearing a large silver mask rather than a black one like everyone else. This must be the Silver Wolf himself.
I grow very still as he stands beside the other man.
He stares at me through the eye holes. “Come on down,” he says in a gruff voice.
A voice I know. I know.
“You’re okay now,” he says, reaching a big hand in my direction.
A hand I know. I know.
I’m shaking as I make myself move, crawling awkwardly over and letting him pull me to the edge, lift me down to the ground, and untie my hands and feet.
I grab for his shirt because my legs won’t work.
“I… I don’t… I don’t un…” I can’t get words out. The world blurs around me again. I’ve been hiking in the rain all day. I’ve been punched, kidnapped, tossed around, and suffered through a not insignificant bump on the head.
Then this.
This.
Because that’s Cade. Right here. Sliding an arm around me as if he knows I’m about to slump over.
It’s Cade.
And that means…
He must be the Silver Wolf.