Blood drips from her arms, and I rock her gently as her screams slowly subside. She’s not fully back with me, but she registers she’s not in a basement anymore. It’ll take a little longer to pull her from the basement in her mind. The one where her mom lives.
John and his sons run into the room, eyes wide and panting. “What the fuck is going on?”
Phoebe sobs against my chest, her fingers clawing at my leather as the shackles remain on her wrists. They gape at the chains on the floor connected to her wrists. It’s uncomfortablehaving the extra weight, but I can’t get the metal off her until she’s calm.
“Is she okay?” Jo’s oldest brother asks.
“She’ll be okay,” I say, running my hand over Phoebe’s hair. “Right, baby? You’ll be okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”
“We’ll make it painful,” John assures. “Do you need anything?”
I just shake my head, holding my girl as her trembling body slowly relaxes. The last thing I need is him here witnessing this, and I’m happy when he retreats again.
Once she’s calm, we’ll figure out how to get the fucking shackles off her. There has to be a key somewhere. Maybe on Ryan. I’ll dig through his pockets when she’s in a better headspace.
“Is she okay?” Capone asks. “What the fuck happened? What did they do to her?”
For as tough as he is, Capone is one of the most sensitive men in the club. Only a few of us actually know it, and if he can ever find a woman he can stand being with other than Queenie, she’ll be one lucky bitch. The type to get flowers and chocolates along with tampons he’ll go out to buy without being asked. He just has to let go of the shit from his past first.
“She’s okay,” I say and cup Phoebe’s face, forcing her to look into my eyes. “You’re okay now. It’s going to be okay.”
The words don’t register as the tears continue to fall. She just sobs, and I know what she sees. She sees her mom just like I used to see Joanna.
Even at Johnny’s funeral, I damn near bitched out because all I could see was Joanna in a coffin. He was our president, but I still only saw her. It took everything I had to stay in the room as everyone said their goodbyes before he was cremated, and I almost passed out. I couldn’t breathe.
I need to get through to her. There’s more blood than I’d like, and it’s not stopping. She’s cut through her skin deep enough to make it dangerous, and I need to get her to focus. To help me free her.
“Phoebe, baby, look at me,” I whisper, cupping her face as her hands claw at my wrists.
Her eyes are wide and frantic, but she finally focuses on me. Her breathing begins to slow, as do the sobs. She’s coming back.
“I love you, Yellow Crayon. Do you hear me? I love you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Phoebe
The panic in the basement started out relatively quietly. Sobbing and hyperventilating. What I’d expected.
Until everything morphed. Suddenly, I was back in the farmhouse basement, and Mom lay on the ground. Bullet hole on her temple, her eyes staring at me. I couldn’t leave. I’d been chained to the floor, and I was forced to sit there and stare at her.
At first, I told her how much I miss her. How sorry I am for everything. I thought maybe she was there to help me survive until Tucker came to find me. There was a strange comfort in having her lying there, even in the horrifying way I remember her.
That all changed when she started talking. It scared the hell out of me, but it wasn’t so much that she was talking as what she was saying. And even when I was whisked out of the basement, I could still hear everything she said.
You are such a disappointment, Phoebe.
You let Grandma die without ever knowing the truth.
You lied to the police, and it was selfish. You are selfish.
How could you let yourself be used by a man like Tucker? Let him do the things he does to you? You’re disgusting.
He’ll never love you. You know that, and you still stay.
And look at what that’s gotten you? Kidnapped by mobsters. Are you happy? Proud?
You are pathetic. You are not my daughter.
