Chapter 48
Raine
Tonight, it all comes to an end. The Golden Claw is back operating business as usual, even though most of the girls are still clearly grieving. Most of their eyes are ringed red, shoulders slumped. Absolutely nobody is in the mood to play the part of sex kitten to loser clientele.
I’m not really sure how I feel. A little numb, I guess. Because after tonight, Soren is free from the Agency, and I’m … Well, I’m back to being a prisoner in my own skin. I’m dreading the goodbye with Soren. Utterly dreading it.
I’m sliding a tray of tumblers away when I sense it.
An almost imperceptible disruption in the air.
I glance over my shoulder and scan the room.
It’s quiet tonight, not too many patrons, especially on the VIP floor.
I look over towards Ava (who is a shell of her former self since watching Cherry die in my arms), and a new girl, Bianca, who is clearing glasses from tables.
Neither seem spooked. A little sad, maybe, not unnerved. Both oblivious to the energy shift.
My eyes slide to the private lift. Normally, there’s a security guard by the elevator. But not tonight. That’s odd.
I straighten behind the VIP bar, eyes fixated on the private elevator doors.
A ding before the doors open and hell comes marching in.
A pack of what looks like a motorcycle gang (fuck, another one?), armed, pissed off, and seemingly on the hunt for something.
Or someone. I have no idea how these fuckers got access to the private entrance in the basement, but I don’t have time to ponder it, because shit hits the fan immediately.
I don’t even have time to press the panic button to Carson’s security detail.
Ava and Bianca erupt into terrified panic, screaming and scrambling for the stairs to make an exit, as do the patrons. One biker grabs Bianca, gives her a once-over and forcefully shoves her down the stairs.
“Find the bitch!” he roars.
I squint, trying to make out the patch. My heart pounds when I realize it’s another chapter of the Raptors MC. Oh, shit. I know who they’re hunting.
Me.
The one who slaughtered their entire New York chapter in the name of sweet, bloody revenge. But I’d made a giant mistake. I’d removed my balaclava. It was too late once I’d realized there was a surveillance camera.
Rookie error, Raine. So goddamn stupid.
“Hey!” I yell, climbing on top of the bar, whipping off my blonde wig and flinging it to the side.
The bikers pause their destruction of the VIP floor and place all eyes on me.
I must look a sight, all wild-eyed and vicious, standing on the bar, wearing a pair of black leather hot pants and cropped leather tank.
“You want me? Come and get me, you fucking pussies.”
I move, jumping off in front of the bar, squaring up for the fight of my life.
A gunshot rings out, smashing the bottles stacked behind the bar.
Everyone stills, me included. I don’t have my firearm which is a major disadvantage in a dangerous situation like this.
I don’t even have time to reach inside my boot for my hidden blades before a hulking beast makes his way towards me, dragging Ava by the hair, gun pressed to her temple.
Her heels scrape along the floor as she struggles against his strength.
He holds her up in front of me. She’s scared, terrified, actually, trembling from fear.
“Angel,” she whimpers. “P-please. Help me.”
My eyes drop to hers. I want to tell her it’ll all be okay, but I don’t know if it will. The last time I told someone everything was going to be okay was to Cherry.
And we all know how that ended.
The men surround me, and I know I’ve got nowhere to go.
The one holding Ava captive talks. “You come with us, right fucking now, and I’ll let her go.”
I consider my options, and I’m out of any good ones. I’m unsure of how I’m getting out of this. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe this is how it ends for me. In a tornado of violence wearing a slutty outfit. All I know is no other innocent person is going to get hurt because of me. Not again.
Slowly, I raise my arms in surrender. “Let her go.”
They don’t waste a moment, they move fast. Ava is roughly tossed to the side, while a hand snatches me by the hair and yanks me back so hard my vision almost whites out.
Pain rips through my skull at the force.
I should twist, should fight back, but another hand wraps around my throat at the same time and slams me against the bar counter.
The second man looms over me, his face shadowed by vengeance and a sick satisfaction.
His fist crashes into my ribs, again, again, and again.
Listen, I’m a tough bitch. I can handle a beating. If it’s fucking fair.
But there isn’t anything fair about this.
I’ve got one guy holding me down, and another one beating the shit out of me while several others stand around in a semi-circle in case I somehow manage to find the strength to get away from these two monsters.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I claw at the hand that has a vise grip around my throat.
“Enough,” a different, gruff voice cuts through.
The man pummeling me stops, takes a step back. The one with his hand around my throat forces me to stand, holding me up by my neck, while the other hand restrains my arms behind my back.
Blood oozes from my nose and my mouth.
The gruff voice owner steps forward and looks down at me. “You thought you could kill half our club and get away with it? Do you know who you’re fucking with?”
Fingers tighten around my throat, and my lungs burn. “He asked you a question, bitch.”
I suck in a breath, along with some invisible courage and spit in response. “Do you know who you’re fucking with?”
The gruff one in charge smirks. “A dumb slut who took off her ski mask, that’s who. How do you like being ambushed, huh?”
I blink several times. Spots dance in my vision.
Fuck. This is really fucking bad.
I’m not in a good way. Stupidly, I reach for my knife sheathed within my boot, but the hand around my throat tightens, the burn almost unbearable as my airways close.
I can’t get to it in time. Another outlaw grabs my wrist, twisting hard enough to make me cry out.
They zip-tie my wrists together behind my back.
I fucking hate zip ties.
They manhandle me over towards the elevators, where another thug holds open the doors.
“You saw nothing! Understand!” He bellows to Ava and a patron, they only two left, both cowering together in a booth.
Ava looks at me, tears streaming down her face. “Angel?”
I mouth the word “Lukas” to her and pray she understands what I’m saying. If she’s smart (which I’m not sure she is), she’ll contact Carson immediately and relay the message. It’s a long shot. But a shot nonetheless. It's all I've got.
C’mon, Ava. Surprise me.
The elevator arrives at the basement, where two blacked-out vans wait.
I’m tossed into the back of one of the vans like a rag doll, but the second the hand around my throat is removed, relief washes over me.
My body lurches as oxygen fills my lungs.
The relief doesn't last long as the two men waiting in the back get to work on binding my ankles together with rope. Pain screams through my body as they roughly hog-tie me and tape my mouth shut. I thrash as best I can, but they’ve tied me up in a way that makes any movement exceptionally painful.
Voices echo from the front. I clock a driver and a passenger. So there are four in this van. Who fucking knows how many in the other. At least four. Possibly six.
The odds aren’t in my favor.
Before I can try and count the turns the van takes, a rank cloth covers my face, and everything fades to black.