room opened, and Tank chucked a ball of clothes at me. They slid across my tender back, and I gasped.
“Get dressed,” Tank barked.
I didn’t move. I heard the order, but it was like it was on an adjoining station that I couldn’t quite connect with.
Tank grabbed my hair and pulled me up to my knees. “Get dressed, now.”
He jerked my head back then shoved me forward.
The tattoos had started to burn like millionth degree sunburns—or acid eating through to my bones. It was a very real possibility since I had no idea what waited under the bandages. I reached for the clothes—a pair of straight-legged jeans, a black t-shirt that looked like it came from a concert, and a loose-fitting sweater.
The materials added pressure to the tattoos, driving me even more insane, but at least they were all covered, and I didn’t have to look at them. As long as they were out of sight, I could just pretend they would heal up and disappear.
Tank yanked me to my feet and out of the room. My legs shook under me. How long had it been since I’d eaten a full meal or felt like I wasn’t dying of thirst?
Two other men met us in the hallway, one yanked something over my head, blinding me to the world. I swayed, held up only by Tank’s arm around my middle. Would they suffocate me? Put me out of my misery?
I had nothing left to fight with.
The material they used to blind me tightened around my neck, then my feet lifted off the floor, and I was thrown over someone’s shoulder.
Move. Uncover your face. My hands hung down limp and unrestrained, but despite my internal begging, I couldn’t move an inch to help myself. My head bobbed, and the motions lulled me back to a bitter sleep.
When I woke, they were yanking me out of the back of a car. I felt the overwhelming need to vomit—just like when Devlin had first drugged me, and I woke in the basement.
My whole body shook with tremors so bad I could barely see two feet in front of me. A crowd of men stood around me—we were outside and for the first time in forever, I saw the sky. Black and cloudy like my mind.
My stomach sank imagining what they might do next. So many men. Then, one stepped aside, and I saw Wilson.
“Aubrey,” Devlin purred. “Wilson said he’d yet to make your acquaintance.”
I blinked but tried to move as little as possible.
“Colt made a deal with him,” Devlin continued.
I shook my head.
Devlin raised his eyebrows. “No? No deal?”
“I—” My throat was too scratchy to speak.
Devlin jerked his head at one of the men, who then came toward me with a bottle of water.
I took it cautiously and lifted it to my lips, letting the clear liquid slowly fill my mouth and slide down my throat. After a few drinks, the same man sneered and snatched it away.
“I don’t know.” The moment of silence gave my muddled brain time to think over the answer. Lying was a bad idea, but the truth was far, far worse.
“You don’t know?” Devlin asked, his voice taking on a rough edge.
I shook my head non-comitally. The drugs… at least I had the drugs to blame, and that was all Devlin’s fault.
“So, you have no idea what Wilson asked for?”
I shook my head again.
Devlin spun around and punched Wilson in the gut, sending him to his knees in a crumpled ball.
I recoiled, drawing back against Tank’s grasp and attempting to make myself as small of a target as possible.
“Consider your answer very carefully, Aubrey,” Devlin said, striding closer to me. “What did Wilson ask for?”
“I—I never saw the paper.”
Devlin’s expression relaxed a bit. Maybe I’d finally hit the right answer.
“And what did Colt do the second night you were with him?”
“Me,” I whispered. “Took me to his fuck house on Waller.”
Devlin sneered again. Not the answer he wanted. Then, his expression became undecipherable. He traced my jaw with his thumb, then lifted my chin. “What if I promised your freedom for a night in my bed?”
“No.” The answer was out before I even had a chance to process. As much as I wanted out, even my drug-addled mind was disgusted by everything about Devlin.
“Better than the deal my brother offered—or are you getting something else for being his whore?”
I couldn’t answer. Didn’t have words.
“Well?” Devlin yelled in my face. “You think Colt is so much better than me?”
I looked away.
“Useless bitch,” Devlin growled.
Before I could react, Tank and another man were holding my arms straight out to the sides, and Devlin punched me in the gut. I curled up with the impact and both men let me go. I landed on the cracked asphalt as hands and feet began pummeling me. I shielded my head and face until the barrage ended. Then, Devlin rolled me to my back, pressing his heel into my chest. He unzipped his pants.
Fuck. I squirmed under his foot, unable to escape his hold. He pulled out his cock while fear and dread strangled my erratic heart.
He’d rape me.
Then, Colt wouldn’t want me. Was this what my life had come to?
But Devlin stood above me, then hot liquid splashed on my face. I closed my eyes, tried not to inhale the hot putrid smell. I tried to shove his foot away, to somehow dodge the stream. But finally, it ended, and two sets of hands grabbed me off the ground and carried me across the empty lot. The air felt even more frigid where my hair and shirt were soaked.
As the men turned me, I saw a familiar red car—what was left of it anyway. It was beaten and smashed, just like my body.
Devlin stepped in front of me and opened the trunk. I opened my mouth to scream, but when I saw the bloody body in the trunk, my vocal chords froze. The tattoo man. Eyes wide open and staring at me from somewhere beyond death.
I bucked and kicked as they lifted me toward the trunk. “No!”
I forgot about the pain. Forgot about the possibility of punishment.
All I knew is that I did not want to be shoved into a trunk with a bloodied, dead, body.
“Devlin. Please.” My scream shattered through the night.
They dropped me into the pool of blood.
“Fuck. Stop,” I screamed so loud that pain ripped through my throat. “Please.”
I leapt toward the opening, but too many hands held me down. Devlin calmly sat a black piece of fabric in front of me. Then, shoved me down and closed the hatch.
“No,” I screamed. Kicking and punching at the metal.
A loud pop echoed through the air outside the car, shaking the metal coffin that held me. I froze in the silence that followed.
Had Colt come?
Was he dead?
I heard car engines, hurried steps, then, nothing.
What if I never get out?
I kicked the roof of the trunk again and again until I couldn’t stand the ache in my body and my voice died to a crackly whisper. I curled up, as far away from the body as I could get as my body began to convulse from the cold and fear. I felt around in the darkness until I found the black fabric Devlin had left.
I dreaded knowing what it was... But at the same time, I knew it held my escape. I felt the small penlight between my fingers and twisted it on. An elastic strap and syringe remained in the cloth. Just as I had predicted, my escape.
No more pain.
No more tears.
I wouldn’t even remember the damn body next to me.
I couldn’t stand my own putrid smell mixed with the sickening metallic overtones of blood. I tried to hold back the wave of nausea, but a rush of my stomach contents flooded my throat, and I heaved.
No more.
I kicked the top of the trunk one more time.
No more.
I reached for the syringe.