That name was given to him for a reason but not the reasonhe’d now become Throttle to me.
I shut my eyes tight, opened them, reached to the phone he’dtossed at me and endured the immense pain that scoured through me, leaving mefeeling even more raw, which if my brain had room to process anything further,I would have thought unimaginable.
My fingers closed around the phone and I huffed out littlebreaths, which were hard to take since each one sent fire through mymidsection.So I tried deep breaths, and those were worse because the firelasted even longer.
Dread intermingled with all the rest as I tried to focus onmoving my thumb to open the phone, but I saw the black creeping in at the sidesof my eyes.
I couldn’t pass out.
I had to call for help.
I had to get out of there.
My body had different ideas, sending the message to my brainthat this was too much, it couldn’t take more.
So I passed out.
I came to woozy and disoriented.
The pain, the stench of the room, the feel of the cementbeneath me brought it all slamming back, along with the panic.
Having no idea how long I was out, feeling the phone restingin my hand, I actually grunted with the effort of sliding it up, wrapping myfingers around it, using my thumb to flip it open.
An old-style flip phone.
A burner.
We’d joked about it, Snap and me.He’d called me Scully.Hehad a burner too, so there’d be no caller ID when he phoned me.So I’d calledhim Mulder.
I was going to call him.
Not because I was working for Chaos anymore.I wasn’t.Thatofficially ended on that cement.Definitely not because I was protectingBounty.I’d tell the police.Absolutely, I’d tell the police my boyfriend’smotorcycle club beat the snot out of me.It didn’t matter that I broke thecode, and knew it.It didn’t matter that I’d betrayed my man, and done itdeliberately.
I was trying to save him.Save his brothers.Save his club.Save everyone.
I closed my eyes tight, my thumb moving over the phone frommemory, knowing the way on its own, I called him so often.That was why I wascalling him now rather than 911.I knew how to get to him.To Snapper.And theeffort would be less.I could dial the digits to get him up on speed dial in mysleep, so I could do it lying on a cement floor, beat to hell and practicallyunable to move.
I couldn’t lift the phone to my ear so I just shoved itacross the floor closer to my face, listening to it ring.
“Rosie?”Snap answered.
I closed my eyes tighter as understanding hit me with a blowalmost as brutal as every strike I’d just taken.
God.
I hadn’t done it to save Beck.To save his brothers, hisclub…everybody.
At first, I’d done it to make Beck into Shy.
And then I’d done it to make him be Snapper.
And last, I’d done it to make his club Chaos.
“Rosie?”Snap’s Eddie Vedder baritone got sharper.
Oh no.
No.
