Harlow follows, pressing against my legs as we stalk through the dark woods. Now that I have something to direct all of this restless energy and rage at, I won’t rest until I uncover who took my girl and make them pay.
And then I’m bringing her back alive and safe.
Self-Deprecating Bullshit
Olivia
The next time Iregain consciousness, my arms are no longer cuffed behind my back, and a beaten and bloodied Rhys is being thrown into the room.
I suck in a sharp breath at the sight and rush over to him, ignoring the pounding in my head and the wavering of my vision. As I scramble over, the gang members linger at the door and eye my naked body with salacious grins that make my skin crawl. I suppress a shudder and focus on Rhys as I reach his prone body, relieved to see that his hands have been uncuffed too. Although that’s a small mercy considering the state he’s in.
“Come on,” the one says, elbowing the other. “Give them the blanket before the boss reams us outfor taking too long.”
The second man huffs. “Fine. We can always grab the bitch later once he’s distracted.” He chucks a brown piece of fabric to the ground.
Bile burns my throat at the dark threat in his voice.
They leave and slam the door closed behind them. I turn my full attention to Rhys.
His body is mottled with blue, black and purple bruises, with the heaviest being centred around his ribs and back. His eyes are swollen shut, and he has a fat lip that’s split and steadily oozing blood. More blood speckles his flesh, but it’s not as much as I first thought, leading me to wonder how much of it is his.
He lets out a soft, pained groan and tries to open his eyes, but because of the swelling, they’re nothing more than slits. “Princess?” he croaks, as his hand blindly reaches out for me.
I catch it and press it against my sternum. “I’m here,” I murmur, finding it painful to talk with how dry my mouth and throat are. “You’re back in the garage with me.” I’m not sure how much he can see, so I add that last part to reassure him that we’re both as safe as we can be in this shitty situation.
He nods, then winces. “Good. They didn’t touch you while I was gone, did they?”
He’s beaten half to death and he’s worried aboutme?
I shake my head in exasperation and brush bloody strands of his hair from his face, careful of the bruises. “No, they didn’t.” My hand stills. Although I’m not sure about that since I was unconscious and my handcuffs are missing. There’s no pain or discomfort, but—
Nope.
I stop before the thought can finish. Best not to think about that right now, not when there’s nothing I can do about it. Plus Rhys needs me to be strong, and crumbling into a sobbing, screaming mess is the opposite of strong. Future Ollie can deal with that shit.
If we survive.
I shove the thoughts aside and focus on the beaten man lying on the floor in front of me. “You don’t need to worry about me right now.” I squeeze his hand in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.
He grunts. “I always worry about you; you’re a magnet for trouble.”
Ain’t that the truth. “Well, since you’re the one that’s been beaten black and blue, I’d say it’s my turn to worry about you.”
I glance around the barren room, my gaze snagging on the brown fabric and then on the two metal buckets that weren’t there before. My nose wrinkles as I realise what they’re probably for, but it’s still worth checking to see if there’s anything in them. “I’ll be right back.” I pat his hand before making my way over to the buckets.
I’m shocked and relieved to find that one bucket is filled with water.Cleanwater at that. The other is empty, telling me exactly what they intend for it to be used for. I shudder in disgust, but grab them both and carry them to where Rhys is lying.
He turns his head slightly at the sound of them hitting the concrete. “They gave us two buckets to piss in?” he says with a snort.
“Only one. The other has water.” As I talk, I tip some of the water into the empty bucket and wash my dirty hands with it.
“How generous of them. At least we know they don’t want us dead just yet.”
How comforting.
With my hands cleaner, I greedily scoop clean water from the other bucket and guzzle down as much as I can. It soothes my aching throat and relieves some of my dry mouth.
Feeling a little better, I turn to Rhys. “We need to get you upright so you can drink. Let me—”
