“My name is not Brute,” he replies with irritation.
Good. I want to get under his skin, to annoy him so much that he just lets me use the restroom.
“Well, I don’t know your actual name, so Brute it is.” I smile as he rolls his eyes and rubs a hand down his face. I study him for a moment and realize that he is extremely clean, unlike his other counterparts. It looks as if his hands are manicured, and his hair and face are perfectly trimmed and put together. I wonder who this man is for a moment and then quickly remember that he isn’t anyone I want to know—he is the enemy.
“If I let you go to the bathroom, will you leave me alone?” he grinds his teeth as I nod sweetly at him.
“Scout’s honor.”
He struts over and kneels beside me, looking into my eyes as if we know each other. An apologetic expression covers his face for a moment as he looks from me to the knife. No, no, no! He knows my plan.
His head drops, and I catch sight of a rose tattoo under his right ear with the wordLostin cursive underneath it. I move my head to the side to get a better look at it. I’ve seen that tattoo before. He starts to untie the ties around my ankles and then leans in close to my ear. “Tell Jilly I’m sorry. I had no idea that they were planning on taking you, or I wouldn’t have gone along with it.” He moves back, and I can see regret and almost sadness in his eyes.
“W-what?” I manage to ask, not realizing he has freed my hands. I stare at him and realize that his strong face resembles my new friend’s. It hits me in the gut like a ton of bricks—he must be related to Jill. But I shake the thought and hurl myself to my feet, race to the bed, and grab the knife. He doesn’t move as I round the chair and hold the knife to his neck. He stays still, knees on the ground.
“Why aren’t you trying to stop me?!” I whisper at him, not wanting to alert anyone that I’m up here freed from my restraints. He tilts his head, giving me a better angle to slice his throat. I rapidly blink, trying not to pass out at the thought.I stand tough, knowing that I need to do whatever it takes to escape. But the thought of taking someone’s life is something I don’t know if I can ever handle.
“Because this isn’t right. Kidnapping an innocent was never in the job description.” He looks me in the eyes, and I can tell he’s being truthful.
Without another thought, I race to the door and pull it open, slowly sliding down the hallway with my back against the wall. I feel music pulsing under my bare feet as I make my way to a staircase.
Stepping on the first step, I place my foot as lightly as possible, trying to avoid any creaks. The old wooden step moves slightly forward, and I try to gain my balance as I realize all of the steps are coming untacked. Halfway down the banister, I hear a voice coming from somewhere below me. Moving slower, I try to keep my breathing even. My hand is shaking as I hit the bottom step and peer around me. No one is in the living room. I quickly shoot back against the wall as I hear voices again from the kitchen. Instantly recognizing Jack’s voice, I strain, trying to listen in.
“He can’t take her away. The deal was if I got her here, she was mine!” Jack growls. I can imagine his eyes popping out of his head as spittle flies from his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up. He has made up his mind. You can get better pussy at the clubhouse. Stop whining,” another man says back to Jack. A grunt comes from Jack, and then I hear them scuffling. I stay as still as possible until Jack rounds the corner with his conversation partner right on his heels. His eyes bore into me, and immediately he leaps for me.
My head slams against the wall as I wrench back from his grasp. I can’t contain my scream as my brain feels as if it’s being sliced in half. I fling the knife out at him, nicking his arm. A hiss escapes his lips as he looks down at where the blade has brokenhis skin. He turns back to me, and I start to fight with everything I have against him when I hear loud pops sound around us.
Jack is in a fury, and I don’t think he registers the sound because he doesn’t stop. Grabbing my wrist, he digs his fingers into my veins until I lose my grip on the knife.
With my other hand, I shoot my fingers up to his face and dig my thumb into his eye, pressing until blood drips down his cheek and his scream rips through the house. He drops his hold on my wrist, and I scramble away from him, trying to grab my weapon again. Another hand grabs my throat as I stare at Jack, who is now stalking towards me with one eye swollen shut.
I feel my body leave the ground as the hand around my neck pulls me into the air and slams me back down into the coffee table behind me. The air is torn from my lungs as I fight to breathe against the pain in my chest. I close my eyes, grappling with the pain. I need to move, but my brain isn’t working with my body at the moment.
The gunshots sound again, and the living room windows shatter around me. I open my eyes in time to see the man who threw me on the coffee table—Death. He looks down at me with a terrifying smile and I try to swallow down my fear.
Towering above me, he reaches down but stops when another round of shots comes through the window. Grabbing his neck, a dark stream of thick blood pours onto me. I roll myself away as his lifeless body slumps down onto the edge of the broken table. Landing on my hands and knees, I slowly rise, willing my broken body to keep moving.
I turn around to see Jack pressed against the wall, waiting for the shots to stop. He peers around the wall into the kitchen, unaware that I was able to get up. I look down and see that the knife I dropped must have been kicked in our fight and now sits halfway between Jack and me. I limp over to the blade, picking it up. The cool metal feels heavy and welcome in my hand as I wrapmy sore fingers around it. Lifting my gaze from the knife to Jack, he still is oblivious to me, and I take a deep breath. This man was once my partner, the person I called when I was happy or sad, and now he is a stranger who takes pride in hurting me.
I start to move towards him as he finally turns his head in my direction. A loud bang hits my ears at the same time I plunge the knife into his abdomen. My stomach feels like it’s being ripped open with a red-hot poker. I peer down and see my dress absorbing a pool of my blood. Stumbling back, I watch as Jack slides down the wall, leaving a large smear of blood behind him. A sound catches my attention, making eye contact with a man I met at the Chasers’ clubhouse—Knife, I think his name is. I start to feel lightheaded, my body colder than it’s ever been before. I watch Knife raise his gun and shoot someone behind me.
Turning my head, I watch as a man falls to his knees and collapses face-first onto the ground.
Knife looks at me with a worried expression and then hollers over his shoulder, “Oh fuck, Ax!”
My knees buckle under me as the knife slides from my bloody fingers. The sound it makes as it hits the hardwood floor rings in my head like a siren’s song, pulling me into the darkness. I can hear the pounding of boots, doors being slammed, and voices… his voice.Focus, Jenna. Focus on his voice. He’s here. It’s over.
But I can’t move. Breathing even feels like an unimaginable chore. Falling to the ground, my vision begins to tunnel. The only thing I can focus on are my bloody hands that I now hold out in front of me as if they aren’t my own. They can’t be mine. A stillness calms my body as the cool air numbs the pain radiating from my abdomen.
“Jenna!” he yells in a gravelly voice, as if fighting to keep tears at bay. It’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
axel
It’s beentwelve hours since Jenna was taken.
