Dad pushes the cut shirt over the guy’s shoulders, exposing his back. “You’re the man standing between me and my grandchild.”
Sliding the knife back in its sheath like he’s done it a hundred times before, he walks to the bucket and pulls the iron out; the brand is glowing yellow.
Ragged breathing is heard as the guy watches my dad walk around to his back, he’s still not talking but his upper lip is shaking and pulling back in fear.
“I would suggest that everyone switch to breathing through your mouth ‘cause the smell might get ya.” Dad says just as he presses the brand against the guy’s back.
The sound that comes from him starts as a low moan and builds in intensity to a scream, “Aaaaaaaaah, Mother Fucker!” Spittle is flying from his mouth and his tied hands grip the horn of the saddle he’s on, turning the skin white. His head is turning beet red and the veins around his eyes are bulging.
Pulling the brand from his sizzling skin, Dad walks back to the bucket and drops it back in. He turns to the guy, “I can do this all night.”
A huge smile spreads across Jax’s face, and he moves closer to me, “Your dad’s bad-ass, man.”
I roll my eyes, “You should have seen him when Lainey Rai was born, biggest softy on the planet.” Looking over at my dad, I say, “I want the next one, but this time I want to do the inner thigh.”
“Fine! I’ll tell you where she is!” The guy screams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SLOANE
RINGING INmy ears and pounding in my head pulls me back to consciousness and then pain radiates all over my body, starting at my face. Keeping my eyes closed, I lift my hand and slide my fingers across my cheek, which feels twice as big as it should.
Fear squeezes my chest, and I try to open my eyes, but they feel like they have gum holding them together. I try to roll onto my side, but it feels like the cold, concrete floor is attached to my back.
Every body part I move feels like it weighs ten pounds more than it’s supposed to and is attached to the floor with rubber bands.
When I finally get my eyes open, a concrete jail cell with one bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling outside the bars of my cell comes into focus. Shadows are everywhere and amemory of my dad sitting on the edge of my bed reading me a story because I was scared floats across my mind.
My eyes sting with tears. I miss the safety and warmth of my dad; the days of happiness, comfort, and security almost feel like a dream. My thoughts then turn to Mason and the safety and warmth I always feel with him, he’s never expressed any feelings to me, but I always feel that same type of comfort when I’m with him.
Covering my face and pressing my palms against my mouth, I let myself have a minute to break down and quietly cry into my hands. Crying makes my head hurt worse, so I take a few deep breaths and wipe the tears from my temples, very gingerly around my left cheek. Is that just from a fist? I’ve never been hit like that before.
There are no windows and it’s really cold in here, my coat, hat, and gloves are gone, but I’m still wearing the sheepskin-lined boots and heavy sweater Marley gave me. I try to roll onto my side again and my body hurts all over, it feels like they dropped me on the floor because my elbow and hip hurt.
Rolling onto my other side, I push myself up and close my eyes when a wave of nausea flips my stomach, and I wait for it to pass. There is a cot on the wall opposite the wall of bars and I crawl to it and pull myself up to get off the cold concrete.
The room is small and on the other side of the bars that serve as a door, is a small wet-ish-looking walkway. Where the hell am I? Is this a basement? How long was I out? Is it still nighttime?
I have to pee.
Glancing around the small cell, I spot a bucket in one corner, but I decide to see how long I can hold it.
The cot is not warm, but it’s not freezing cold like the floor, so I pull my knees up and hug them to my chest to try and retain as much heat as possible. Does Mason know I’m gone yet? Is he looking for me?
Another wave of despair threatens to extinguish the small flame of hope that’s keeping me from looking down the long barrel of desolation and anguish that’s begging me to find a way to pull the trigger.
What if Mason is not looking for me? My parents are gone, my brother put me here, and I have no one else in this world.
If this is where fate has brought me, then I would rather die.
I’ve already escaped from them once; they won’t let that happen again. What if I am pregnant? They won’t let me stay that way. The more I think, the darker my thoughts become.
The high-pitched squeal of a metal door swinging open echoes down the hall and my heart starts to thump even harder against my chest. Lazy footsteps echo down the walkway and I’m practically holding my breath as I wait for the owner of the steps to show themselves through the bars.
My heart lodges in my throat when the man I stabbed steps into view behind another man that I’ve never seen before. There is a raised, angry red mark on his neck.
The intense anger and hate that he is directing toward me sends a chill skittering down my spine and I hug my knees to my chest tighter. I have no doubt that man is going to hurt me as much as he can.
