CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AVERY

“BUNNY?” I SNAP WHEN HER eyes close. “What the fuck did you give her?” I demand Franklin as he stands next to my bed. We’ve been back for three hours now, and that was the first glimpse of anything from her.

He shakes his head. “It’s not the meds. She has a concussion. She’s gonna go in and out of consciousness.”

Her head starts to fall forward, so I gently place her on her back. I stand from the bed and start to pace next to her.

“She needs to be admitted. Twenty-four-hour care. I can make a call. They can have a room ready for her when we arrive ...”

“No!” I snap.

He’ll come for me!

He fucked with her mind. Told her that even if she got away, he would get her again. And he made her believe it. Made her doubt my ability to keep her safe. Why wouldn’t she believe him? I failed her.

I don’t want her in a hospital. There are too many opportunities for someone to slip in and slip out. Too many ways for Vaughn to pay off some nurse or doctor to administer her the wrong drug, killing her instantly. If I have her admitted, she’ll have a chart. A room number. No privacy. I need her at my house with guards. Lots of them. She may have been taken from my home, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t understand the real threat. Now I do. I’ll use Darrell as an example and then build a fucking army around her.

Franklin lets out a growl, getting my attention. “You hired me to help her. But you’re not taking my advice.”

“Because your advice is shit!” I shout.

The door opens, and Tristan sticks his head in. He looks at her lying there passed out still in my shirt, the covers pulled up to her stomach. Franklin redid the stitches in her neck ’cause they were half-assed at best.

“What?” I snap, fisting my hands down by my sides.

His eyes go to mine. They soften, and he lets out a long breath as if he has bad news to deliver. Like anything could be more heartbreaking than finding her naked and tied up like an animal. “May I speak to you …?”

“Get out!” I order to Franklin. He does but mumbles something at me under his breath. The old man doesn’t wanna fuck with me today. “What is it?”

Tristan walks over to me. His eyes drop to her sleeping form before returning to mine. He opens his mouth and then shuts it as if he’s not sure what he wants to say. “What do you want to do about Darrell?” Tristan finally asks.

“Is he still at the warehouse?”

He nods. “Kayn was going to go and get him. Dispose of the body.”

“No. Tell him to keep him there.” He frowns. “I want to make an example of him.” I look down at her. “Things have changed. Damon is no longer a threat.” I run a hand through my hair and look back at him. “Vaughn wants her, and for some fucking reason, he didn’t kill her. He’s playing some sick game.”

He opens his mouth, and I pause, waiting for him to say something. Then he shuts it. “If you have something to say, then you need to spit it out,” I snap.

He shakes his head, and whispers, “It can wait.”

I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but I can agree. She is my main focus right now. “Call up all of our men. I want them at the warehouse in two hours.” He frowns. “I’m gonna show them what happens when you betray me.”

He nods and then leaves without another word.

PRESLEIGH

The ringing has dulled to an annoying hum. The pain in my head is now a throbbing. The taste of blood still lingers in my mouth but not as bad. I open my heavy eyes and try to blink away the harsh light.

“She needs rest. A few days and she should be better.” I see an older man who I don’t know over by the door talking to Avery. His back toward me. “This could have been a lot worse—”

“I fucking know that,” he snaps, interrupting him. He wears blue jeans and a black T-shirt. I can see how tense his shoulders are, and he shoves a hand through his dark hair.

“As far as I can see, the mild concussion is the worst of it. She has cuts and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal over time. I’m giving her a prescription for antibiotics to fight infection.” Ripping my own skin open with dirty nails and lying on a dirty concrete floor isn’t very sanitary. “And pain meds. She should be feeling much better in a few days.”

I lick my cracked lips. “Avery.” It comes out rough.

He spins around, and his narrowed eyes instantly soften when he sees me. “Bunny.” He rushes over to me and crawls onto the bed. “Hey, baby. How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“You need lots of rest,” the older man says, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. His eyes go to Avery and then back to mine. “You were very lucky. I’ve given you some meds that will help. If you experience any more vomiting or dizziness, you need to let me know.”

Avery gets off the bed and walks toward the door. The man takes the hint. He is being dismissed. “I’ll be right back,” Avery tells me before they both walk out.

I roll over onto my side and realize I have to use the restroom. It takes me a second to shove the heavy covers off me, but then I sit up on the side of the bed and place my feet on the red rug. The room sways a little bit, but I push up onto my feet. My legs are heavy, and my vision kinda blurs for a second. I place my hand on the bed and take my first step. It takes me longer than usual, due to dehydration and starvation. Plus the beatings I took didn’t help.

Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me and close my swollen eyes. Taking a deep breath, I move to the front of the mirror and open them to look at the damage.

My eyes aren’t nearly as bad as they feel. One is a little swollen but not to the point I can’t open it. I have a bruise on my cheek along with cuts here and there. My neck looks the worse from the collar they put on me. And my hands shake when I run the tips of my fingers over them. Making me flinch.

I wake to a dark and cold room. My hands come up to grip my head as it pounds. Sitting up, I look down at my body to see I’m naked. Fear creeps up my spine.

“Avery?” I call out.

What happened? Where am I?

I look to my left and squint in the darkness. I try to even out my breathing, but it grows frantic when my vison adjusts to the lack of light, and I see a concrete wall. Then to my right. Another concrete wall. That fear intensifies, taking my breath away.

Did I do something for him to have to punish me? Is he still mad at me for the way I spoke at that party he took me to? Or what I said at his house? When I didn’t want to leave him?

“Avery?” I shout, standing on shaky legs. I start to walk over to the only door I see when I’m yanked back by my neck.

My hands fly to it, and I feel a thick steel shackle wrapped around it.

My breath hitches as I feel around, and my worst fear is true when I find a padlock on the back of it. Then a thick chain. I turn around to see the chain connected to a hook bolted to the wall.

“AVERY!” I shout frantically, wrapping my hands around the cold metal chain and start to yank it. Trying to free it from the wall. It doesn’t budge.

Then I remember his words from the night before about my collar. “You are to never take this off. I’m gonna put a lock on the back and throw away the key. And hook a leash to it. You will go everywhere I go. And everyone will know that you belong to me.”

“AVERY!” I shout out again. “No, no, no, no, no.”

What the fuck? Tears burn my eyes as my heart pounds in my chest so hard, I can barely breathe. What is he doing? Why can’t I remember anything? My eyes catch sight of a red blinking light up in the right-hand corner. “Avery, this isn’t funny!” I scream. “Let me go!”

I reach up and touch the sensitive skin again, thankful it is gone. It was heavy and thick. Suffocating.

I rip off Avery’s shirt. I have bruises on my hips and ribs. Then my eyes land on the two letters that they branded on me.

The door opens with a loud creak, and I spin around to face it, fully prepared to give Avery a piece of my mind. But my breath gets caught in my lungs when I see the two men walk in. Neither one of them Avery.

“Hello again, Presleigh.” The man who ruined my life. The man who took everything from me says with a fucking smile on his face.

I cover myself, remembering that I’m naked, and he laughs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Presleigh,” he says, and my body begins to shake.

I look at the other man and pull my lips back in disgust. “Vaughn. How could you …?”

“Enough chitchat,” Victor interrupts me.

Vaughn drops a bag at his feet that I now realize he is holding, and I take a step back.

Bending down, he grabs a blowtorch out of the bag along with a long piece of metal that is twisted into some kind of design at the end. “Stay away from me,” I whisper as horror takes over.

He hands it to Victor, then steps toward me.

“Stay the fuck back!” I shout.

“It’s gonna happen with or without your cooperation, Pres.”

I place my hands out in front of me. The thought of me being naked no longer matters.

He reaches me, then yanks me to the ground by the steel collar around my neck. It temporarily takes away my breath and digs into my skin.

He shoves me onto my back and straddles my hips. “Get off me, you piece of shit!” I shout, punching his chest.

He fights me effortlessly and pins my wrists down by my head.

I hear the blowtorch come on, and I fight harder. The tears build in my eyes. “Fuck you! You sick fuck!” I scream, bucking my hips. The tears start to slide down the side of my face.

Then I feel weight on my legs as well, pinning them down. I lift my head, trying to see over Vaughn, who straddles me, but I can’t. He’s too tall. Too wide.

“This is gonna hurt, Pres,” he says with an evil grin on his face.

I tighten my hands and buck my hips again. He sits up and then slams back down onto me. The cold concrete digs into my sensitive backside from where Avery whipped me. I cry out.

“Keep her still,” Victor demands.

“I am,” he growls, sliding both of my hands above my head effortlessly. They’ve drugged me. They’ve had to. That’s why I can’t remember anything. And why I’m weaker than usual. He crosses them at the wrist and then takes his free hand and grips my hair, pulling my neck back at an odd angle. The shackle around my neck pinches my skin, and I feel it tear.

“I can’t wait to hear you scream,” he whispers, leaning down and running his nose along my jawline.

“Please don’t …” I sob, not knowing what they are about to do to me.

“You never belonged to Avery,” Victor tells me. “You were always meant to be mine.”

The blowtorch cuts off, and I swallow roughly. I suck in a ragged breath when I hear skin sizzling before I feel the pain. I scream out as the smell of my burning flesh fills the air, then it all goes black.

I taste bile in my throat at that memory and run on shaky legs to the toilet as I fall and puke up what little water Avery made me drink. Until I’m dry heaving and tears roll down my face. It has to come off. The slave mark has to be removed. If Avery won’t do it, I’ll do it myself.