6. Hell
Ely
I barely register what's happening. Everything hurts.
The van lurches to a stop, and the doors are thrown open. Rough hands grab me, yanking me out, like I'm just another piece of cargo.
The cold air bites at my skin, but I barely feel it over the raw pulse of pain coursing through me.
My wrists burn where the zip ties have bitten deep, my arms numb from being pinned behind me for too long. My skin stings, bruises blooming across my body where Jinx's men shoved me, grabbed me, laughed when I fought.
I look up. And my stomach drops. The Crimson Riders' clubhouse looms ahead, dark and familiar, filled with ghosts of the past. I spent years inside these walls, but today? They might as well be my grave.
Jinx steps out of the van behind me, his boots crunching against the gravel like a funeral march. He’s savoring this, the sick bastard. The air shifts and I brace myself.
He grabs me by the hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. His mouth curls into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Welcome home, sweetheart."
The moment I'm dragged inside, the doors slam shut behind me, sealing my fate.
The clubhouse hasn't changed. The same dim lights, the same stench of sweat and blood and pain.
The same men who let everything happen to me.
Jinx's fingers tighten in my hair as he drags me toward the center of the room.
No one stops him. They just watch. Like I'm entertainment. Like I was never one of them.
I wrench against his grip, but he shoves me forward, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain explodes through my knees, but I grit my teeth, refusing to make a sound. Jinx crouches in front of me, his head tilting.
"You ran from me," he murmurs, almost like he's amused.
I say nothing. He grabs my chin, fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
"You let him touch you," he breathes. His voice is calm. Too calm. That's what makes it worse.
His fingers trail down my cheek, soft at first. Then he slaps me so hard my head snaps to the side. The room spins, my vision blurring. The taste of copper floods my mouth. I blink slowly, struggling to focus. He sighs, like I've disappointed him.
"You should've been mine," he murmurs, fingers sliding down my throat. "But instead, you fucked an enemy."
I flinch, jerking back, but he catches me by the back of the neck, gripping hard.
"You let another man have what was supposed to be only mine."
His voice drops lower. Darker. "So now, you're gonna pay for it."
The first fist slams into my ribs, sending a white-hot burst of pain shooting through my side. I collapse, gasping, curling in on myself.
Boots stomp around me, voices jeering, mocking.
"Shouldn't have run, Ely." "Jinx, you gonna break her in right this time?" "Looks like the Iron Vultures already marked her for you."
A sick wave of nausea curls in my gut. I lift my head, chest heaving, lips split, blood dripping down my chin. And that’s when I see him.
Lucas.
Standing at the edge of the room. Not moving. Not helping. Not doing a damn thing. I choke on a breath, forcing words through the agony in my ribs.
"Lucas," I whisper.
He flinches. But he doesn't move. Doesn't meet my eyes. And I know now that I'm truly alone. My stomach sinks, something inside me cracking open. Not from pain. Not from fear. But from pure, gut-wrenching realization.
I never had a family here. I was never one of them. I was just something to be used. And now, discarded. I knew it before, too, of course, but I just kept lying to myself. For years. So that I could survive with my mind in one piece. So that I could feel like at least I belonged somewhere. But now, it's really the end.
Jinx crouches beside me again, his fingers twisting in my hair.
"You see that, sweetheart?" His breath is hot against my cheek.
"Not a single one of them is gonna help you."
He leans closer.
"Because you were never worth saving."
Darkness. That's all there is. It presses against me, fills my lungs, settles into the cracks of my soul. I can't remember the last time I slept. The last time I ate. The last time my stomach wasn't a twisting pit of agony.
Four days. I think it's been four days. I don't know anymore. All I know is the ache in my bones, the hunger clawing at my insides, the chains digging into my wrists. The mattress beneath me smells like cigarettes, sweat, and the ghost of every woman who was here before me.
I try to turn onto my side, but the chain clinks against the metal bedpost, keeping me exactly where Jinx wants me. Like a dog. Like a fucking pet.
The walls of his room are too close, the air too stale, and my body too empty. I press my forehead against the pillow, sucking in shallow, rattling breaths.
I should be fighting. I should be clawing, screaming, finding a way out. But there's nothing left in me. Not anymore. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears slipping free despite myself. I don't cry for the pain. Or the hunger. Or the certainty that I will die here. I cry for the man who put me here.
Bones.
His name is a curse, a prayer, a wound that won't close. I loved him. I fucking loved him. I gave him everything. Every piece of me, every broken, trembling, hopeful part of me. And he gave me to this.
To Jinx.
To hell.
A choked sob rips through me, my body trembling from more than exhaustion. I thought I was safe. I thought Bones loved me enough to trust me. I thought love meant something.
I press my face deeper into the pillow, but it doesn't smell like him. No leather. No whiskey. No heat. Just dust and filth and the rotting stench of betrayal.
I remember his hands on me, slow and reverent. The way he'd trail his fingers down my back, like he was memorizing me. The way his voice would drop low when he called me baby . The way he told me his real name and wanted me to keep calling him Bones anyway because he liked the way I said it.
But none of that mattered in the end. Not when I needed it to. Not when I was begging for him to listen. I see his face in my mind, stone-cold, merciless, staring down at me while the tattoo gun carved TRAITOR into my skin. I feel the sting, the burn, the finality of it. I sob harder, hating myself for missing him. For still aching for the man who broke me.
The chain rattles as I curl into myself, my body folding inward, smaller and smaller, as if I can disappear into nothing. Maybe that would be better. Maybe that would be easier. Because I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. I thought I was strong. I thought I could survive anything. But I was wrong.
Bones was wrong.
He thought I was a liar, a spy, a traitor. But the truth is? I was just a stupid girl, never strong enough to survive him. And I won't survive this, either.
I let my eyes drift closed, tears slipping into the pillow. Let Jinx do what he wants. Let the hunger eat me from the inside out. Let my body fade, break, disappear. Because the last person I loved killed me long before this.