“License and registration.” The officer interrupts me.
I go for my purse in the passenger seat but stop myself.Don’t give him the wrong one.I open my glove box and grab what he requests. “Is there a problem?” I ask, pretending I wasn’t going fifteen miles over.
He looks over my information, and then his dark eyes meet mine. “Get out of the car.”
“What?” I ask, sitting up straighter. My heart picks up speed.
He pulls on the door handle and opens the door.
“Hey—”
“I said get the fuck out of the car.” He reaches in, grabs my arm, and yanks me out, making me stumble into him.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, and he drags me to the front of the SUV, spins me around, and slams the side of my face into the warm hood, momentarily taking away my vision and fight. It gives him the opportunity to place my wrists in handcuffs behind my back. He tightens them down on my bony wrists, and I cry out, finally able to suck in a deep breath.
He grabs the back of my shirt, yanks me from the SUV, and pushes me to his car, putting me in the uncomfortable back seat and buckling me in. Tears run down my face as I try to adjust my body, but it doesn’t do any good. They’re too tight.
I watch him return to my car and sit in the driver’s seat, but I can’t see what he’s doing. Moments later, he steps out and walks back to his car. Getting in, he drives off with no explanation.
EIGHTEEN
HAIDYN
Ienter the garage at my house and jump on my R1. It’s a nice day for a ride. I turn my baseball hat on backward, not bothering with a helmet or leather jacket. I don’t wear either often. If it’s my time, then it’s my time. I’m not one of those who try to prepare for the worst. It’s going to happen regardless. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and drowned. I’ve lost count at this point how many times I’ve died, yet here I am.
Placing my sunglasses on, I start the bike and rev the engine, then drive out of the garage, leaving my gated property. I take a right, and before I know it, I’m hitting eighty miles per hour. You can’t go much faster than that on the straightaways because the road has too many tight curves you have to slow down for.
I didn’t get much sleep last night, but that’s normal. I worked out until the early hours this morning and then showered. The sun was already rising when I finally crawled into bed, but I was up within a couple of hours and needed to clear my head or at least try to.
It’s been repeating the same events over and over to the point I want to fucking knock myself out. From what I can remember anyway…
I can hear voices,but their words aren’t registering, and I have no clue where I am. All I know is that I can’t move. My heavy eyes open, and I look around, not able to really focus on what I’m seeing, but I feel cold…and wet.
It’s hard to breathe, as if someone is sitting on my chest. The voices start to penetrate the fog.
I recognize Devin’s voice immediately. “I just need to sedate him.”
“No!” a guy barks out, his voice echoing off the concrete walls that I see. Am I back at Carnage? If so, how did I get here, and where is Ashtyn? We were on our way to dinner…had a wreck…I was shot. Where is she?
Devin speaks. “I can’t help him unless he’s sedated. I have to cut him open?—”
“You have two choices.” The man interrupts him, pressing the tip of his gun into the side of my head. “You either cut him as is, or you give him a shot of adrenaline.”
I try to talk, but my lips won’t move. Where is Ashtyn? She was with me.
The sound of cabinets banging and drawers opening and closing fills the room.
“What the fuck is that for?” one of the men asks.
“What you have on him now won’t be enough,” Devin explains. “Once the adrenaline hits, he’ll be hard to keep down. I need him as immobile as possible, especially if I cut him open.” He tightens something over my waist and a couple more on my legs. It makes it even harder to breathe, much less move. “Open,” he orders.
My eyes find Devin hovering over my face, and I take in a long, shallow breath, forcing my lips to work. I need to know if she’s here. Alive. “Ash-tyn?”
One of the guys laughs. “That bitch is as good as dead. You’ll be lucky to join her.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Devin shoves a mouthpiece into it. Then I feel the familiar pain that takes what little breath I had left away. My body bows up off the table, straining against the restraints. My jaw locks down on the mouthpiece, and my heart races.
The adrenaline makes me feel invincible even when I’m on the verge of dying. I try to fight, but they’ve got me strapped down too tight. Devin places a hand on my chest, and then I feel pain like I’ve never felt. My vision fades in and out as if someone is playing with the lights. The voices fade into the background, and it feels like my insides are being ripped out.
