I GROAN THE second I gain consciousness, bringing a splitting headache along with it. My brain throbs inside my skull, and as I try to blink my eyes open, I can’t focus. My vision is blurred, and I realize I’m not wearing my glasses. But even without them, I can usually see better than this.
I go to reach for the side of my head where I vaguely remember being hit, but my arm doesn’t move. I tilt my face to the side to see my wrist, and barely make out the shackle there. The sound of metal clanging as I jerk at it helps me distinguish what’s keeping it in place.
My heart pounds, realizing I can’t move as I pull at my feet and my other hand. And when I look down my body, only seeing the hazy outline of my light skin, it takes everything in me to keep down my nausea. I am completely naked. Completely naked, and strapped down to some kind of table.
“Who knew that’s what I’d find under the clothes of that cunt’s mousy little sister?”
Brandon’s voice fills me with dread. How did this even happen?
“Wh—”
“Shut up, bitch!” he shouts, and I scream as something stings the side of my ribs. I glance down, but all I can make out is a glowing blue light as tears fill my eyes.
“Awww, what’s the matter, Twy? I thought you were into all this kinky shit. Isn’t that why you work at a sex shop now?” he taunts, bringing the blue light closer to my face. I press my head back against the hard surface I’m lying on, and squeeze my eyes tightly as the light grows uncomfortably bright. “Isn’t that why you go to your little boyfriend’s sex club?”
The light is suddenly gone, and I open my eyes, even though they’re basically useless. I listen for his movements, trying to figure out where he is and what he’s up to. When he appears once again as a dark blob next to me, I can’t hold back my sob. And suddenly, my whole chest explodes with pain as he hits me with some type of leather whip with a bunch of tails. I’ve seen them in my shop, but since Seth hasn’t taught me about them yet and a customer hasn’t inquired about them, I have no idea what they’re for. Surely it’s not for this purpose. No one could find this pleasurable, I think, and then cry out as he strikes me with it once again across my naked breasts.
“What? You don’t like being flogged? Hmm… must run in the family. Your sister didn’t like being beat much either, but she sure did ask for it a lot,” he sneers. “Thought you might like it though since you go to a BDSM club and all. That’s why I brought you here, Twy. It may not be as nice and upscale as your nerdy little fuck’s place, but it works. They didn’t even bat an eye when I carried you in here. Thought we were roleplaying or some shit. Even opened the door for me when I asked for one of the private rooms.”
He laughs evilly, making my skin crawl at the image he paints. I try not to think of him undressing me, touching me as he locked my limbs down to the table, but I fail, and it sends me into a panic at what he might do to me now that I’m at his mercy. I suck in a lungful of air and scream at the top of my lungs, yanking at the shackles as hard as I can, hoping someone will come in to see what’s happening. But as I run out of breath and my limbs grow weak from my struggle, I cringe as Brandon laughs harder.
“No one’s coming to help you, Twy. They’ve got the music so loud out there. You can barely hear it in here, so I’m assuming these rooms are sound proof. That, and I bet they’re used to hearing people scream all the time. Good try though.” He strikes me once again across my chest, and then at the top of my thighs, the leather straps like razor blades on my soft flesh. I’ve never in my life felt something so painful, and I burst into tears as he hits me once again. “Oh, poor little Twyla. Your fuckboy must be taking it easy on you if you’re already crying. I have to admit, though, now I’ve gotten a taste of these different toys, I kind of regret not taking your sister up on her offer when she asked me to spice things up in the bedroom. I should practice a few more on you, see which ones I like best, so when I get Astrid to come back home with me, I’ll know how to use them properly.”
The thought of him coming anywhere near Astrid sends me into hysterics. I’ve heard so many horror stories of women leaving abusive relationships, only to go back to the person who brainwashed them enough to make them believe they can’t live without them. I cry and thrash on the table, trying my best to get my hands loose, but nothing works.
He leans over me, his breath smelling of liquor as he growls in my face, “Sucks to have something taken from you, doesn’t it? You took Astrid from me, so now I’ve taken your freedom, and I’ll steal her back too. You hurt me, and I swear you won’t leave here until I’ve hurt you in return.”
I swallow painfully, my mouth completely dry. “What?” I wheeze, my eyes clamping shut as I brace myself when his arm raises over his head. I hear the flogger slice through the air before the tails burn the skin of my stomach.
“Oh, you haven’t figured it out yet? I thought you were supposed to be the smart sister.” His voice sounds like pure evil. “I could’ve gotten to Astrid at any time. You left her alone plenty of times when you were interviewing for jobs, running errands, and then while you were at work or out fucking the guy you just met. I must say, Twy—that was really surprising. And here I thought all these years that you were a prude with a stick shoved up your ass. Little did I know you prefer something different up there. Anal beads? A butt plug, maybe? Or did you just go straight for your little Dom’s cock? Hmm?”
He must see the surprise in my eyes through my tears, pain, and terror, because he continues his taunting. “Oh, yeah. I know what he is. A little inquiring about becoming a member of what I thought was a nightclub you were working at, and it was easy to get the owner’s name and the fact he was a Dominant. Who the fuck names their kid Seven anyway?”
I don’t let him see my relief when I realize he hasn’t somehow found out Seth’s real name. That information in a person like Brandon’s hands could’ve been disastrous. If he released that publicly, all the hard work Seth put into keeping people’s identities secret—how many members would lose faith in his abilities and leave the club for fear theirs would be leaked too?
“So what are you still doing here?” My voice cracks as I tremble, my body completely rigid from the pain across my front.
“She was mine!” he yells in my face, making me flinch. He rears his arm back, once more bringing down the flogger with all his strength across my hips. I sob, yanking at the shackles as the pain bursts through me like wildfire. “You came in the middle of the night and took her from me! And now you’re going to be punished for it.” He whips me again, and this time, my skin starts to go numb.
Seeing I don’t react as intensely, he disappears for a moment, and the amount of fear inside me doubles, not knowing what he will bring when he returns.
“HE’S HAD ALMOST an hour’s head start on us. Do you know what he could have done to her in an hour?” I murmur, fidgeting in the passenger seat of Corbin’s SUV.
“But he was driving for half of that hour, bro. Not much he could’ve done while he was driving. We don’t know what he wants with her. The only thing I’ve come up with is maybe he’s going to try to make a trade, Twyla for Astrid. He has no idea we have a tracking device on him,” Corbin tells me, going for reassurance, but all I can think about is what Brandon could’ve done in that second half hour.
“No guns in his name. No weapons in his car. No weapons in his hotel room,” Bryan says in his monotone way, and I look at him over my shoulder. His face is serious, and he meets my eye. “Checked when he was eating at the diner next to the hotel two days ago.”
I nod, feeling somewhat better.
“What have you found out about this address he stopped at, Seth? We’re ten minutes out,” Corbin warns, and I feel a surge of adrenaline.
I look down at my laptop, checking the screen. The results are finally up. “Something called The Red Rocket. One-star rating on Google.” I pause to read a review. “‘Skeezy sex club with cheap drinks,’ says one person. ‘Scared we were going to catch something the second we walked in,’ says another.” My hands shoot to my skull, dragging through my hair in frustration. “This is where the fucker took my woman. And has been there with her for thirty goddamn minutes.” The tiny bit of relief I’d felt only moments ago completely disappears.
“Been there. Place is a shithole. Been through four different owners in as many years. Drinks are cheap, probably in an attempt to dull how disgusting the place is,” Bryan chips in.
“Fuck,” I growl. “What’s the plan once we get there again? I can’t fucking think.”
“We get there, find her, we’ll detain him while you get her out, and then we call the cops. Easy,” Corbin replies.
“Okay. I just need to see she’s all right. That’s all I want right now. She’s… she’s the only thing that matters.” My voice cracks, but I don’t give a fuck that my best friends can see my emotions. Corbin especially. He’d been through something with Vi that sent him into a rage so bad the guy who assaulted her ended up with a missing appendage.
Seeing the sign for The Red Rocket up ahead, I address the guys, “Before we get in there, I just wanted to thank you two for having my back. I… I’m the tech guy behind our jobs. You’re the ones who put your lives at risk every day. I fight with my brain. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I’ve never been in a fight. I’m… I’m not a violent person. You know this. And the pictures she showed me of what this asshole did to her sister… I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Always, brother,” Corbin says low, and Bryan grunts his agreement from the back seat.
That’s all the talking we have time for before we turn into the parking lot of the rundown building and come to a halt. We jump out of the SUV and make our way to the door, as I follow them scanning the parking lot for Brandon’s car. Spotting it a few vehicles down from the front entrance, my heart pummels my ribcage, seeing it in person for the first time after only seeing it in the surveillance footage up until now. It suddenly makes this all the more real. This is really happening. This motherfucker had knocked Twyla out, kidnapped her, and brought her to this shithole. He had taken the woman I love, and now he will pay.
Corbin yanks open the blacked-out door, a poor mimicry of the one at Club Alias, and as we step inside, we’re immediately blocked by two men, both over six feet tall and almost as wide as we’re bombarded by loud music, heavy with bass.
“No men allowed. Only couples and women,” one of them states, his arms crossing over his chest.
Corbin steps forward, and the two dark men spread their feet in unison, ready to block his path. “We’re here for a friend. She’s been brought here against her will. Step aside, and we’ll get her and be on our way,” he tells them calmly over the music, but they instantly go on the offense, stepping forward.
“No one’s come in that looked like they weren’t here to have a good time. Now run along,” the one on the right says, clearly not giving a shit that there might be a woman in the building getting—
No. I can’t think about that. And right as I open my mouth to try to reason with the two people standing in the way of me getting to Twyla, all hell breaks loose as Corbin and Bryan lunge at the exact same time, fists and elbows flying in all directions. As the four men grunt, landing punches and cursing at each other, Bryan yells, “Go!” in my direction, and I instantly spring into action.
I leap over a body, not taking the time to see who it is as I take in the club. Disgusting red vinyl couches line one wall, with cheap tables in between. There are several couples having sex, but I barely take in specifics of their positions as I search for just one face. Just my Twyla. And none of these people are her.
My eyes scan the bar area, but all that’s there is a man bending a woman over one of the stools, the bartender in front of them looking bored or stoned, or maybe both. Wherever Twyla is, she’s not in this main room.
I storm toward the back, where three black doors line the wall. I jerk at the first knob, but it doesn’t budge. With adrenaline pumping through me, and fear for Twyla’s safety growing the longer she’s alone with the fucktard who took her, I rear back and kick in the door, the cheap wood shattering as it bounces off the wall.
The woman being fucked against a makeshift cross screams as her partner falls backward, covering his dick as he scoots away on his ass. “What the fuck, man?” he yells at me, but I don’t even think to apologize as I move to the next room.
Again, locked. My hands shake with rage as sweat pours down my temples. As time passes without my eyes on Twyla, unable to see she’s safe, the tighter something twists inside me. And when I kick in the door, it takes a moment to register what I see before me.
I finally find my woman. But she’s nearly unrecognizable in her agony. The bulky, dark-haired man holds a violet wand to the tender flesh of her ribs, burning her as his other arm halts midair before he can hit the already bloody skin of her thighs with the metal-tipped whip in his hand. Her eyes open as she continues to sob, her tear-soaked face turning more toward the smashed door.
I can’t tell if she recognizes it’s me or not because her glasses are missing and her eyes are bloodshot, but at her whimpered, “Help me… please,” whatever it was that was tightening inside me before reaches its threshold and snaps.
I charge Brandon like a bull seeing nothing but red, making it to him in three strides and so fast he doesn’t even have time to lift the violet wand from Twyla’s blistered skin. My fist connects with his face at the same moment I grab the electric device with my other hand, yanking it away from her flesh. The blue light immediately goes out, but the rage inside me sparks anew when I see what he’s done to her up close. As he lunges toward me, having regained his footing, I rear back with the wand, smashing the glass across the front of his skull.
Never in my life have I ever wanted to kill someone with my own hands. But that’s exactly what I have in mind as I wrap the cord of the device around his neck, maneuvering my body around his until I’m at his back. As he struggles for breath, I wrap the ends of the cord around my hands so it won’t slip and use all my adrenaline-fueled strength to pull it as tight as I can around his throat. Visions of slicing his head clean off fill my mind, my lip lifting in a snarl as I growl, “You fucking sorry-ass piece of shit. You got off on beating the fuck out of her sister, and then dared to draw blood on my woman? I will fucking kill you, motherfucker.”
Brandon tries to defend himself from behind, throwing his elbow back as he claws at the cord around his neck, but I dodge it easily. Everything above the white cable turns purple from lack of oxygen, and something inside me wants to laugh maniacally as I feel him begin to weaken. I glance down into Twyla’s face, seeing she now recognizes me since she heard my voice. But it’s not relief I find there. It’s growing panic.
“I’m here, doll. No one will ever hurt you ever again. I’m here,” I say, making my voice as gentle as I can, all while choking the life out of the cocksucker who did this to her.
“Se— Seven. You have to stop. You have to stop, please,” she whimpers, and my brow furrows in confusion. Why is she calling me by my Dom name? And more importantly, why is she telling me to let Brandon go?
“You have to, baby. Life for a life, remember? I’m alive. You saved me. So you’ve gotta stop. Please,” she begs, but no matter how much her eyes plead with me to do as she asks, my hands just won’t let go. Especially as I glance down her naked, shackled body, seeing the bloody stripes he has left all over her perfect skin.
In fact, my grip tightens even more as I see the burn on her ribs, knowing it will scar and be there for the rest of her life if I don’t kill this motherfucker soon and get her to the hospital fast enough. No way will I let this piece of shit brand the love of my life, leaving his mark for her to remember this nightmare every time she looks in the mirror. No, I need to make him die faster.
But as I lift my leg to press my knee into the middle of his back for leverage, I’m tackled from the side. With my hands wrapped securely around the cord, it jerks Brandon along with us, and he falls to the ground. The awkward position of my arms makes them feel like they’re going to pop out of their joints at any moment, and I finally let go, ready to lunge and beat the fuck out of him as he tries to catch his breath. But Corbin’s voice enters my consciousness.
“Take care of your woman. We’ve got him.”
The mention of Twyla clears the rage-induced fog, remembering she’s strapped to a table, naked and in excruciating pain. I spin away from the men as I search for the key to the shackles, finding it immediately on a table full of instruments I pray he hasn’t had time to use on her. I hurry to the foot of the table, unlocking her ankles before circling to the head to open the ones around her wrists. She cries out as she tries to lift her arms, and the sound of her agony makes me want to go back to strangling the life out of the fucker who did this to her. But instead, I scoop her into my arms as carefully as I can, murmuring a thank-you to Bryan as he quickly wraps a towel around her body before I carry her out of the room.
With her in my arms, I cease thinking about Brandon, knowing my partners will take care of him.