Chapter Two.
Dynamo—a year later.
Ikicked the punchbag, and it flew into Undertaker.
He caught it and took two steps back. Undertaker’s eyebrows rose, but I was in the zone. I went at the bag with sheer, cold fury, beating it until I could barely breathe. Stepping away, I wiped sweat from my brow and took the water bottle Undertaker offered.
“Girl, you’re in peak condition.”
“There’s always room for improvement.”
“Still working out with Romeo?”
“Yup.”
“And?” Undertaker pushed.
“Most traps Romeo places on my mind now, I can escape.”
“Heard that the prospects are shooting you withdarts,” Undertaker said.
Unconcerned, my gaze met his. “And what? Got a problem?”
“Dynamo, they’re fuckin’ terrified of saying no. Plus they’re scared stupid you’ll get hurt.”
“Already happened, Veep. Ain’t nobody locking my mind again,” I stated firmly.
Undertaker flinched. “Stop making them drug you.”
“Fuck no.”
“That’s an order,” he growled.
“Either they shoot me, or I do it alone.”
We never caught the guy who’d been behind my kidnapping, rape, and torture. It had taken me three months to reach a place I could operate. Had I recovered mentally and emotionally? No. Physically, Slasher healed me within a week, and all scars and bruises had disappeared. Yeah, I was restored to my pristine former self. But my mind was scarred, damaged beyond repair.
Undertaker frowned. “Dynamo, we’ve not stopped looking.”
“Yup, I know. And we found Katie. But the fact Katie was kidnapped means someone is still out there pulling this shit in Maine.”
Undertaker couldn’t argue because I was right. We were both aware of it. Vogue’s sister, Katie, had been taken for longer than me and wasn’t bouncing back. She hid in her room and refused to interact with anyone. The few times Katie had been surprised by a brother had resulted in a full-on meltdown.
“Dynamo…” Undertaker rubbed his chin and sighed.
“No fucker will imprison me again. ‘Taker, I can link with Romeo and Bogeyman in a second and defend myself until help arrives.”
“The club’s well aware of that from the bruises everyone’s sporting. And now you’ve taken this to the fights.”
“You get in the ring, you expect a beatdown.”
“But you near enough slaughter them,” Undertaker pointed out.
In a fury, I spun on him. “Is that an issue? Has there been a complaint?”
“No…”
“Then why this interference? What am I doing that’s so wrong? Were you bent over a table and raped repeatedly? Do you actually know how many times they raped and sodomised me? No? I do. They experienced five rapes for every single one I suffered, and that’s still not enough. They’re dead. Their suffering has eased. Mine is fuckin’ constant, Undertaker. Until you’ve been raped over two hundred times, don’t come in here preaching.”
