Chapter 5
5
BEAR
T he man hung from the ceiling like a carcass in a butcher’s shop. The steel hook, secured with zip ties that cut deep into his flesh, wrenched his arms above his head. Blood dripped down his forearms, pooling at his elbows before falling in thick splatters onto the concrete floor. His feet barely touched the ground, forcing his body to sway with every ragged breath he took.
Bear stood in front of him, silent, controlled, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt with slow, deliberate movements. He didn’t hurry. This wasn’t a fight. This was systematic dismantling.
Fitz and Kai had already worked over Gerald Foster, one of DeLuca’s middle-tier traffickers. Fitz and Kai had softened him up, breaking ribs, dislocating a few fingers, making sure he understood just how bad this was going to get. But now? Now he belonged to Bear.
Bear squatted in front of him, elbows resting loosely on his knees. "You ready to talk, or do you need more incentive?"
Foster spat blood onto the floor. "Go to hell."
Bear sighed and stood, rolling his shoulders. He glanced at Fitz, who stood in the shadows near the door, arms crossed over his chest, watching with a mixture of boredom and approval. "How many bones have we broken so far?"
Fitz made a thoughtful sound. “It’s difficult to say. We didn’t keep count.”
Bear nodded, like he was considering the options. "Right. It’s better not to rush these things."
Foster’s swollen eye twitched. "You think beating the shit out of me is gonna change anything?"
Bear stepped closer, looming over him, his voice dropping into something low and absolute. "No. But it’ll make me feel better while I wait for you to get smart."
He moved fast. A single, brutal punch to the man’s side, driving his knuckles into already broken ribs. Foster howled, his body jerking violently against his restraints.
Bear waited until the man’s screams died down before speaking again. "I’m not in a hurry. I can do this all night." He grabbed Foster’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You were one of the men who handled Meri Vaughn. You were there at the auction. You put your hands on her, didn’t you?"
Foster’s bloody mouth pulled into a sneer. "I did more than that."
Bear snapped. Bear’s fist crashed into Foster’s face, breaking something not already shattered. The man’s head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his nose. His body sagged, struggling against the zip ties that held him in place.
Fitz let out a low whistle. "Gotta say, Bear, I thought you were gonna draw this out a little longer."
Bear’s chest burned with fury, but his voice remained controlled. "I don’t like liars. And I don’t like men who hurt women."
Foster coughed, a wet, ragged sound. "You think you saved her?" He lifted his head, his bloodstained teeth showing through the mess of his ruined face. "You think she’s free?"
Bear went still. Fitz straightened from the wall, the air shifting with the weight of something unspoken.
Foster laughed, his body shaking with pain. "She wasn’t just another girl for sale. She was special. High-value. The kind of thing you don’t just auction off to some random bidder. She was being prepped." He coughed again, a string of blood trailing down his chin. "Rented out. Broken in. Getting her ready for a private auction—to be offered to only the most select clientele. The kind that doesn’t go through normal channels."
Bear’s pulse turned to ice. Meri hadn’t just been stolen. She hadn’t just been sold to the highest bidder. She’d been marked and taken with more than profit in mind.
Fitz stepped forward, his voice sharp. "Who?"
Foster’s swollen lips pulled into something resembling a grin. "You already know who. You just don’t want to admit it."
Bear grabbed the man by the throat, squeezing just hard enough to make his airway collapse halfway. Foster’s body jerked, his feet kicking against the floor, his face turning red.
"Say it," Bear ordered.
Foster twisted, trying to break Bear’s hold, his body convulsing with panic. Bear loosened his grip—just enough to let the bastard speak. The words came out on a wheezing breath.
"DeLuca."
Bear went still.
Fitz swore. "Fuck."
DeLuca wasn’t just another trafficker. He wasn’t some mid-level bastard running an operation out of a dingy warehouse for a cartel looking for an extra revenue stream. He was a high-end trafficker who operated world-wide. He didn’t just groom sex workers and sell them to sadists. This was a man who found and took unspoiled women, trained them and then sold them off.
Bear’s vision narrowed, his heartbeat steady despite the fury tearing through his chest.
Foster laughed weakly. "You can kill me. Won’t change a damn thing. DeLuca will come for her. That girl? She’s been promised to a wealthy, well-connected patron. DeLuca plans to make a fortune off her."
Bear’s grip tightened again. Foster fought hard, his legs kicking out, his face going purple, his body convulsing until he began to die. Bear let go, letting the bastard’s limp body sag in his restraints.
DeLuca thought Meri belonged to him—that she was his to sell. Thought he could take what wasn’t his. Bear’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"No one is taking her."
Fitz nodded slowly, his expression dark. "Then we need to get to DeLuca before he gets to her."
Bear didn’t respond. He was already planning. Already seeing the end of this fight before it even started. Meri wasn’t just his to protect. She was his, and anyone who tried to take her again would die.
Foster’s body still hung from the ceiling, his head slumped forward, blood dripping sluggishly from his broken nose. His breath came in uneven, wheezing bursts, but he was once again conscious. Barely.
Bear still had more to do.
The name DeLuca had already sent his blood running cold, but he wasn’t na?ve enough to think rescuing Meri would be the end. DeLuca was the kind of monster who only operated in shadows, letting others do his dirty work. And he was the only trafficker in the city with the kind of reach to facilitate something like this.
Bear leaned in, gripping Foster’s chin and forcing his swollen face up. "Who handled the logistics?"
Foster gave a wet chuckle, his tongue sliding over bloodied teeth. "He handled them himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else enough to do it for him. After the last auction you broke up, he’s even more paranoid."
Bear’s vision narrowed.
Fitz swore under his breath. "Sonofabitch."
Bear forced Foster’s head back farther, watching the pain ripple through the man’s swollen features. "Where is he?"
Foster let out a choked sound, something between a laugh and a cough. "You think DeLuca's just gonna sit around waiting for you to find him? He knows you're coming. He’s already moving pieces into place." He wheezed another breath, his voice rasping. "And you’re running out of time."
Bear dropped his grip, letting Foster’s head fall forward again. "That so?"
Fitz exhaled sharply. "We need to move. If DeLuca's involved, Meri is still in play."
Bear already knew that. He had known it the second Foster had said DeLuca’s name. But hearing it confirmed sent something lethal curling through his gut.
He grabbed Foster’s wrist, yanking out a tactical knife from the sheath on his thigh. He sliced through the zip ties in one swift motion. Foster’s body crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap.
The man groaned, coughing violently, his breath hitching in pain. "You’re making a mistake," he rasped. "You think you’ve saved her, but she was never yours to save. She was never yours at all."
Bear barely even heard the words before he drove his boot into Foster’s ribs, sending him sprawling. The man let out a gurgled cry, his body convulsing.
Bear crouched next to him, his voice a quiet promise of death. "That’s where you’re wrong. She belongs to no one but herself. You didn’t break her, and you never would have. If any of you ever come near her again, I will end you."
Foster’s bloody lips twisted, but this time, it wasn’t a grin. It was fear. Bear didn’t bother with another word. He stood, grabbed a cloth from the nearby table, and wiped the blood from his hands before turning toward Fitz.
"Find DeLuca."
Fitz nodded, already pulling out his phone as Bear strode out of the room. He needed to get back to Meri.
The moment Bear stepped inside the warehouse; he felt it. The shift.
The air was warmer, quieter. The tension—the real, physical tightness that had lived in Meri’s body since he’d found her—had dulled slightly. She wasn’t comfortable, not yet, but something was different. He moved through the space soundlessly, scanning the dimly lit interior until his eyes landed on her.
She stood by the couch, wrapped in one of his shirts, her fingers loosely gripping the hem, her head tilted slightly as she stared at the blank screen of the TV.
Bear stopped, watching her. She hadn’t chosen a blanket. Hadn’t wrapped herself in something impersonal. She’d put on his damn shirt. A primal, possessive feeling settled deep in his gut.
She had no idea what it meant, no idea what she was showing him—the small, unconscious act of submission, of seeking security in something that belonged to him. She shifted, as if sensing him, and turned.
Their eyes met. Her fingers tightened in the fabric, like she had just realized what she’d done, but she didn’t take it off. Didn’t cover herself.
Bear stepped forward, closing the space between them in steady, measured strides. Meri straightened, but didn’t back away.
Good girl.
He let his gaze drift, taking her in—the way his shirt hung off her frame, the way her bare legs peeked out beneath the hem, the way she was watching him like she was waiting for something.
"That mine?" he asked, voice quiet.
She swallowed, her pulse fluttering at her throat. "It was on the chair… you weren’t using it."
He lifted an eyebrow, keeping his voice even. "And so you thought you’d use it?"
She shifted slightly, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t answer.
Bear stepped closer, letting the heat of his body press into her space. "I don’t mind," he said, his voice low. "Just means you’re mine now, too."
Her breath hitched. "That’s not…"
"Isn’t it?" He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the fabric at her hip. "You didn’t pick this shirt by accident, Meri. There were clothes in your room."
She sucked in a slow, uneven breath, her body going still under his touch. Bear let his fingers skim lower, just a whisper of contact, just enough to let her feel the difference between control and coercion.
"You can take it off," he murmured, "if you don’t want to wear something that belongs to me."
She froze, her lips parting slightly, her eyes searching his. And then—deliberately, slowly—her fingers relaxed. She wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t breaking. She was choosing.
Bear’s chest tightened, something sharp and satisfied settling deep inside him.
"Good girl," he murmured.
Meri’s breath stuttered. She turned, breaking eye contact, but she didn’t take the shirt off.
Bear let her go, his gaze following her as she retreated to the couch. She curled up, tucking her legs beneath her, still wrapped in his clothes. He watched her for another moment, his mind turning over what Foster had said, what DeLuca’s involvement meant.
Meri was still in danger, but DeLuca couldn’t have her—not while there was a breath left in Bear’s body.
Bear had been patient. Meri was testing him—pushing him, challenging him—and he had let her, to a point. But every warrior knew the limits of control, and Bear had reached his.
She sat curled on the couch, still wrapped in his shirt, her bare legs tucked beneath her, watching him with defiance, simmering beneath exhaustion. She’d gone quiet after their last exchange, her body language carefully neutral, but Bear had been watching her long enough to know she was building up to something.
A fight. A push. A challenge.
In that hellhole, they may have trained Meri to obey, but she remained unbroken. And this wasn’t about control. Not the way those men had twisted it. This was about boundaries. She was testing whether or not he meant what he said.
"You’re staring," she muttered.
Bear didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from her, lowering himself into it with slow, deliberate movements. His body was loose, relaxed—but his attention was entirely on her.
"You’re thinking about running," he said.
Meri’s fingers tightened on the hem of his shirt. "Maybe."
Bear exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. "I told you before, little one. You don’t run from me."
Her eyes snapped to his, anger sparking. "I’m not yours."
Bear didn’t blink. "Then why are you wearing my clothes?"
Meri’s lips parted, but no words came out. Got her.
A storm brewed behind her eyes, emotions colliding, her body taut with defiance. "I don’t want or need your rules."
Bear leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. "Yes, you do."
Her breath hitched.
"You need structure," he continued, his voice calm but absolute. "You need someone strong enough to tell you what’s going to happen so you don’t feel like the world is spinning out of control."
Meri pushed to her feet, fists clenched. "Fuck you."
Bear moved fast. One second, she was standing, staring him down with fire in her eyes. The next, she was across his lap, her body trapped beneath his arm, her bare thighs vulnerable against the solid strength of his legs.
Meri sucked in a sharp breath, her body tensing. "Bear…"
"You’re safe," he said, his voice steady, his hold unshakable. "But you behave, and part of that is not swearing at me."
Her muscles coiled like she wanted to fight, but she didn’t. Because deep down, she needed this, and she damn well knew it.
Bear slid his hand up the curve of her hip, over the soft fabric of his shirt. She was trembling, her breath erratic, but he didn’t rush. Didn’t force. Didn’t move until she let out a single, shaky breath and stopped resisting.
That was the moment. The one he’d been waiting for. The sharp crack of his palm against the underside of her ass was loud in the quiet room. Meri gasped, jerking slightly, her fingers fisting the fabric of his pants, but she didn’t fight… didn’t try to bring her hands back to protect her backside.
Bear didn’t stop. He landed another firm, measured slap against her flesh, feeling the heat bloom beneath his touch. Not enough to truly hurt—but enough to remind her exactly who was in charge. Another. Then another. By the fifth, she was squirming, her thighs pressing together, her breathing ragged.
Bear’s grip tightened around her waist. "Be still."
Her body locked down, obedience warring with rebellion. He knew she was fighting herself, fighting the part of her that had once craved this. Not degradation. Not cruelty. But discipline. Control.
Bear smoothed a hand over her warmed skin, soothing where he had punished, and leaned down just enough for his lips to brush against her ear. "You don’t push without consequences, little one."
She made a sound, something breathless, something unsteady. Bear turned her, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. Her body was warm, her pulse hammering against his skin.
Meri didn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding on to something she probably didn’t even understand yet. Bear tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
"You’re all right. You’re safe. Are you all right?"
She swallowed, her pupils blown wide. "I don’t know."
He nodded, accepting the truth in her words. "You will."
Her breathing slowed, her body melting against him despite herself. Bear let her stay there, held against his chest, his hands steady on her back. No rush. No demands. Just his presence, his dominance, and the quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Meri had spent months being told she belonged to men who had no right to her. It was time she learned she belonged to herself. And maybe in time, she’d learn she could belong to him, too.