“Damn, what’s going on here?” I open my eyes to see an old man rolling in his wheelchair. My guard looks surprised to see him, but I can’t be sure and to be honest, I don’t give a fuck. I’m barely hanging on to consciousness. I’m too fucking weak to care and I’ve been told all day that tonight my suffering ends. I hate to say I’m looking forward to it, but I sure as hell am. Wolf has been taking out his revenge on me hour after hour and I’m in so much pain that I only want it to end. I tell myself that’s not being a coward—it’s being a realist.

I’ve lived my life with no regrets. If I have any, it would be Torrent. I should have done so much with her different and I should have carried her kicking and screaming out of this hellhole. I should have made sure that fucker Wolf couldn’t ever touch her again. Hopefully Diesel, Crusher and the rest of my crew get here soon enough and will save her. I doubt the man upstairs listens to me, but I hope he gives her a good life. She needs that. I wanted to be the one to give it to her, but if wishes were horses we’d all be fucking cowboys.

“What are you doing down here, Daniel?” the guard asks—I don’t know his name, haven’t cared enough to listen.

“Figured I’d see why you pussies keep coming down here all hours of the night,” the man says and if I could still feel my face I’d laugh. Here’s one asshole I’d probably like.

“I’d watch my mouth if I was you. You’re only alive because Dodger liked you.”

“I’m only alive because your new President hasn’t found a way to kill me, like he did Dodger.”

“You’re on dangerous territory, Daniel.”

“You going to deny it?”

“No, but it’s none of your business. You want to keep breathing you’ll roll your fat ass out of this room and not look back.”

“I’d rather roll my chair over your shriveled balls.”

“You—”

I hear a gasp and make myself open an eye to look at the two men. My guard is on the ground, groping his neck, which has a knife sticking out of it.

“I ever tell you, asshole, that I used to be able to throw a knife at fifty paces and kill a fly?”

I figure the bastard is lying, and I wish like fuck that was Wolf, slowly bleeding out around the blade in his throat, but this beats nothing.

“Get moving, moonbeam,” the man says and that’s when my world shifts. Torrent is standing there, crying her eyes out. She’s too blurry to see her eyes, but I can hear her sobs.

“If…dreamin’, Angel… Don’t wake… m… me.”

The words are a chore to get out. I can’t be sure they were even spoken, but I had to try. I figure she heard something because she starts moving. She looks around the room and then pulls a five-gallon bucket over to me. I thought she was going to put it under my feet. I hate to tell her at this point that wouldn’t help. I can’t even feel my damn legs—at least I don’t think I can. All I can feel is pain. She doesn’t though. She stands up on the bucket so our faces are close together.

“Hang on for me, Logan. Hang on for me,” she says.

I don’t know if it’s possible. I’m pretty damn close to death—hell, I already smell like a rotted corpse. But I’ll try. For Torrent, I’d try anything.

I start moving and recognize immediately she’s cutting the ropes. I want to tell her to stop, to leave and get as far from Wolf as she can—to go to my club so they can help her get free. I don’t say any of that, because in the next instant the ropes give and I fall to the floor. The pain explodes through my body and I can’t fight it anymore.

I give in to the blackness and let it swallow me.