I’m screwed. He knows everything. I’m going to die.
One of the big men took her keys and left. Lena now had no vehicle. She had no chance of escape right now. So even if she stabbed Victor, what the fuck was she supposed to do?
Victor held her arm tight. “Let’s go for a walk. Let’s chat a bit about things. I want to know how Annie is feeling. And perhaps we should discuss speeding time up a little for her.”
“What?” Lena asked.
“You heard me,” Victor growled. “That old bitch needs to go. It’s costing too much to keep her around.”
“What are you going to do, kill her?”
Lena realized the error of her question a second before the back of Victor’s hand connected with her face. She spun around and fell forward, right into the next big guy. He kept her standing and shoved her away.
“Don’t fucking touch her, Danny!” Victor yelled. “I’ll gut you, you fuck.”
Lena touched her cheek and backed up. She kept moving and suddenly had the idea to just run. To fucking run through the back alleys and streets of Frelen in the dark. Maybe one of the motorcycle club guys would find her. Help her.
Victor was charging toward her.
“Mr. Victor, we have a problem,” another man said. “We’re getting interception of police activity. Some kind of disturbance near by. We should exit.”
“Fuck that,” Victor said. “We have to see Angelo first. I have to take care of him.” He pointed to Lena. “Let’s go, right now. Get in the fucking car.”
“No,” Lena said.
She turned and actually started to run. It was the dumbest mistake of her life and she knew it. As dumb as the time a black car rolled up to her with a handsome man in the backseat, telling her that her ass was perfect, her smile was pretty, and he wanted to buy her dinner. In that moment, Lena thought it was some fairy tale romance thing. But now, years later, she was running from the nightmare she had welcomed into her life.
With no knowledge of Frelen, Lena took the chance of darting in and out of streets, hoping to not get hit and killed by a car. Her body shook with intense fear. There was one way out of this. Maybe. Lena reached into her bag and found the knife. She took it out and made a right turn. To her complete shock, she spotted a few motorcycles. They were parked out back of what was a bar or restaurant. The smell of grease lingered in the air.
Lena slowly turned and saw both Victor and the big man running at her. She put the knife out and started to cut at the air.
“Jesus fuck,” Victor said. “Are you fucking stupid? What are you going to do? Kill me?”
“Yes,” Lena said. “I’m going to…”
“Get her,” Victor said to the big guy. “Knock her the fuck out.”
Lena was in total fight or flight mode in that moment. She kept stabbing at the air but was moving backwards too. She danced around, keeping distance between herself and the paid chunk of muscle that was ordered to hurt her.
There was a small opening between Victor, the guy, and the motorcycles. Lena tried to run and that opening closed up fast. It was Victor who darted to the right, thinking he could grab her and subdue her. But Lena was ready. She was fucking ready.
Lena thrust forward with the knife and felt it slide into Victor’s body. Right at his left side. She then let the knife go and tried to scream. But she had no breath. Victor grabbed her and hugged her, a few seconds needed to settle in before he realized he was stabbed. Lena kicked and punched, breaking away from Victor. She looked down at herself and saw blood all over her.
Victor touched the knife and growled. He looked at the big guy. “We have to go. I have to get this cleaned up. We have to see Angelo. Fuck…”
“Mr. Victor…”
“I told you what to do to her,” Victor growled. He then looked at Lena. “I’ll come back for you. I’m going to wait for you to wake up, Lena. Then I’m going to torture you… in ways you never thought possible…”
Lena opened her mouth and never had a chance to speak. She had pain, then darkness.
four.
Jett put the woman on the bed. She was still out cold. A few times she tried to come to, her thin lips fluttering, but she made no sound other than a deep, sighing breath. But at least she was in the clubhouse. She was protected. Jett wasn’t even sure if she should have been protected or not. But the chick had been draped over his fucking motorcycle. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was a message from someone else.
“Check her bag,” Jett said. “Get a name or something.”
“Good call,” Jace said.
Jett stood from the bed and tried to figure out what to do. The blood on her shirt wasn’t hers. Gently, Jett lifted the woman’s shirt and found soft, smooth, clean skin.
“Lena,” Jace said. “I’ve got a note written to her. Handwritten note.”
“License?” Jett asked. “Address? Cell?”
“I don’t see a license. She has a wallet. Credit cards, some cash… lots of junk.”
“Typical chick,” Blaine said.
“What do we do now?” Jace asked.