My eyes scanned the room, meeting the heartless stare of hungry men. Memories I'd worked so hard to shove down deep obliterated the walls I had built around them. Flashes of hands, faces, and slick bodies came forth, cutting off my airway. A single finger trailed down the length of my bare arm. It wasn’t Collin’s touch. His touch left an ache. This man’s touch left me nauseous.
“She is perfection, I’ll give you that, Stevens.”
My demon hummed in agreement, shifting beside me.
I kept my stare straight ahead, my heart crying out for the woman above me. I knew all too well the stare she held. The image of an American Flag pinned to a cream-colored wall came to me, and I was back in that room—their voices growing louderthan the ones in the present. My lips parted as my face relaxed, void of any emotion. Fear was there, of course, but you couldn’t show it.
You can’t allow them the satisfaction of your fear—just be numb and count to one thousand, and it would be over. They couldn’t last forever.
“I have more.” The man who'd held my heart captive for nearly a decade brought me back into the present, the beginnings of my panic attack drifting back into the shadows. He said it was all a lie. I just had to trust him.
There was good in him.
There was good in him.
There was good in him.
“You do?” another man questioned, a horrid eagerness evident in his tone. Sick bastard. Bile rose up in my throat, but I kept my composure.
Collin laughed, and it wasn’t a good one. It was the stuff of nightmares. “You wouldn’t believe the merchandise I possess,” he bragged.
Roman inhaled his cigar and, as the smoke trailed out from his lips, he eyed the stripper. “We need some more. The ones we have are…overused.”
A few of the men chuckled, and Collin held up his hand to silence them. “You can have them.”
Roman chuckled. “What’s in it for you,errand boy?”
Collin smiled at him, showing all his perfect white teeth. He held that gorgeous smile as three blades landed into three separate men across the room. The men shifted in their seats as fear took over while bodies collapsed to the floor with a thud.
“You forget the type oferrandsI used to run, Roman Barone.”
“Clear out the club,” Roman ordered, keeping eye contact with my hitman. The tension in the air was deadly, cold…dark.
I swallowed and fisted my hands at my sides as goosebumps pebbled my arms. Outside of the pod, people scurried, rushing to the exits. I could only assume the bottom level was cleared out too.
“That’s six of my men, Co—”
Collin stood quickly, pulling his gun out and shooting two more men—right between the eyes. His aim was impeccable. The sound of the gun caused me to jump as the stripper dropped down to the table, taking cover. She got into the fetal position, her hands behind her neck. When she looked up at me, her brown eyes were wild with fear. “Run,” she mouthed to me.
“And that’s eight. I’m so glad you're able to comprehend basic math, Roman,” my demon growled, his blue eyes staring intensely at the man who challenged him. The larger man held his hands up. “Alright! You win. Anthony, put your gun away.”
“Does someone else want to play?” Collin said calmly, turning around to look at a young man holding a gun in his trembling hands.
“No! Collin! He's just a child!”
His back was to me, but his shoulders tensed up. “This is no place for a child,” he said, his voice lower—colder.
“Get out of here, Anthony!”
The kid ran. Smart. I looked at the woman on the table. “Go. Now,” I hissed as the young man ran away. She scrambled off the table and fled.
Collin turned back around to face Ronan, anger evident in his features.
“I want full access to everything, Roman,” he said, moving past me as if he walked on air. His tattooed hand wrapped around the man’s neck as he got into his space. “This stays between us. You tell anyone, I will cut out your heart and feed it to your wife.”
By this point, the man was clawing at Collin’s arm, fighting for his life. My eyes dropped as my palm found my mouth. The gunwas pointed at the man’s crotch. That was why he wasn’t fighting back.Jesus.
I looked up to the man I loved, ready to beg him to stop, but someone grabbed my hair, yanking me up by the ponytail.
