My death glare falters, fear beating through me in sickening waves. I wrestle against my bonds, trying to punch whoever I can reach.
Pincer hands grab me from behind, holding me steady while I’m felt up by another stranger, her tiny hands rough and intrusive. I want to cry and scream, but I’m held still by pain. I breathe through the humiliation, grateful they aren’t stripping me naked on this cold dock.
I scan the area, focusing on the small container ship parked beside an old, dilapidated warehouse. Windows in the top floor have been smashed. They’re crying rusty tears down the corrugated iron. The entire dock looks cold and crappy, yet there are still stacks of containers on the outskirts and the faint smell of diesel tells me this place still runs.
So why the hell have they brought me here?
The taloned mistress lets me go, satisfied that I’m female. My cheeks burn with shame, despite telling myself they shouldn’t. I haven’t done anything wrong here. All I ever wanted to do was tell the truth, give Robbie the justice he deserves.
“Who are you?” My question is muffled by the gag.
She ignores me, flicking her head at the giant beside her. He snatches me from Ivan’s grasp. I start screaming as soon as he throws me over his shoulder, pounding his broad back and feebly fighting against the beast. He doesn’t even flinch.
I look up and find Ivan’s eyes on me. He’s not smirking anymore. If anything, he looks guilty. His eyes track me as the bitch who groped me hands the driver a briefcase.
“Count it if you want to, but it’s all there. One million, like we agreed.”
Ivan nods, still watching me.
“She didn’t do it.” He clears his throat. “At least that’s what she said.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” The woman smirks. “I’ll get the truth out of her.”
His cheeks pale and he looks to the ground, turning away from me when I up my screaming. My throat is hoarse and aching, but I don’t let up.
Ivan gets back in his car and I lose sight of him as I’m taken around the corner and walked up a set of metal stairs. The beast’s boots ring on the stairs followed by the ping of high heels following after us.
I glare down at the blonde witch, wondering what her deal is. There’s something almost familiar about her face but I can’t pinpoint what it is. Not until I’m thrown onto a chair and she yanks the gag off my mouth. Her blue-grey orbs glint when she snarls, “Tell me what happened to my brother.”
#34:
Her Real Name
Trey
I shove my door open and flick on the light, not even caring what time it is.
Riley groans and buries his face in the pillow while Kade snorts and growls, squinting his eyes open with a steady stream of abuse. “I’m going to pound your ass to the ground if you don’t turn that light off.”
“Get up,” I bark, slamming the door and stalking into the room.
Slapping Riley’s foot, I yank the covers off him and spin to Kade’s bed. He fists his duvet, fighting against me as I growl and pull him off the mattress. He catches himself before thumping onto the floor, then lunges for me. Tackling me around the waist, we tumble back and crash into the end of my bed. I whack him on the back, desperation surging through me when I shout, “She’s gone!”
Kade lets me go and steps back, shoving my shoulder with a scowl. “What?”
“She’s gone,” I croak, fear getting the better of me as I flop onto my bed and rake my fingers through my hair. “The shower. There’s blood. Something bad’s happened to her. I told Dean Hancock, and the agents are here but I don’t trust them. Ivan’s taken her somewhere and I’m gonna fucking kill him if he hurts her!”
“Wait. Slow down.” Riley takes a seat beside me, his expression alert. “What blood?”
I close my eyes and suck in a breath, but it doesn’t stop my voice from quaking. “In the hockey locker room where she usually showers. There’s blood on the towel and her sweater’s there but there’s no sign of her. Nothing. She’s gone.”
“She’s not in her room?”
“That’s where I started. It was empty. Her flashlight was gone so I went straight for the showers.”
Kade doesn’t make a smartass joke about seeing her naked. My raw desperation is obviously shining through.
“How do you know the blood is hers?” Riley speaks slowly, squeezing my shoulder at the same time.
“Because who else would be bleeding in the shower in the middle of the night?” I snap.
“It could have been left over from a practice. It could’ve—”
“Her sweater was there.”
“She wears guys clothes. Are you sure it was her sweater?”
“Yes, because this fell out of it!” I yank the photo from my pocket and hold it up to him, realizing I should have probably shown it to the agents. Is that how Ivan knew? Did he find the photo?
I squeeze my eyes shut. My fears that this isn’t just a bully beat-up gone too far are so real right now it’s hard to breathe. He knows. He fucking knows.
Riley leans away and gently takes the picture from me, studying the image.