: Chapter 48

Motherfucking shit balls.

My head aches, my body hurts, and there is a weird ringing in my ears. My mouth feels fuzzy, and my eyes refuse to open. Where the hell am I? What happened? I rack my brain, searching past the fog clinging to it and ignoring the splintering pain. It’s important, I know it…

Fuck.

The crash.

Shit, they got me…so where am I? My head feels like blood is pooling in it, like when you lie upside down for too long. My ears still ring, but I can hear past that and my slamming heart to the dripping surrounding me—like water slowly hitting tile, again and again. Other than that, all I can hear is the rustle of wind seemingly far away…then silence.

Okay. Calm the fuck down, Rox. First things first, open your fucking eyes and find out where you are. Then we escape and kill these motherfuckers.

I’m going to make those bitches cry for their mommies…just as soon as I can open my eyes.

I don’t let the panic settle in or give it a hold on me, it won’t do anything. This is life or death, and I need to get out of here before they come back. I know it will only mean torture until they are done with me, and then I will end up with a bullet in my head. I refuse to die that way. I’ll die as I lived, with a beer in my hand and riding a dick.

I manage to finally pry my eyes open. They swim with tears, and I have to blink several times to clear them. When I do, I frown in confusion, trying to understand what I’m seeing.

Am I upside down?

My hair is trailing below me, touching the floor and soaking up the blood from a rapidly growing puddle there. The floor is carpeted, a dirty white colour. Lifting my head with an audible groan, I take a look around the rest of the room. The carpet trails to cement farther out into the space, the walls painted an off white. There’s what looks like a boiler to the right, and the rest of the room is almost empty apart from nudie mags taped to the wall in the corner with an old wooden chair angled next to it.

She’s got nice tits.

Shit, focus, Rox.

There is an off, damp smell in the room, and it’s musty like it’s been closed up for a while. I can’t spot any windows anywhere either. Fuck. Lifting my head higher, my back straining, I glance up at the ceiling to see I am, in fact, chained to it, dangling there like fucking meat in a butcher’s shop. I twist my hands, which are tied behind me, and notice my lips are sore like they were duct taped. The fuckers.

No wonder my head is rushing, all the blood is draining to it, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded. My body is weak, and I have no choice but to drop my head down, forcing my frame to swing precariously. I swear if I fall right now, I’m going to be pissed, but the chain holds even as it creaks.

Okay, so I’m tied upside down…ideas? Ugh, my brain hurts. Then I remember the knife I had at my spine. I strain my hands, trying to feel if it’s there, my shoulders aching with the movement, but it’s gone. They took it. Okay, so no weapons either. I could keep swinging, try and break the beam I’m hanging from. The only issue is I might crack my head on the floor or the ceiling might come down, which doesn’t seem like a good idea.

I’m betting by now the guys know I’m gone. They will be pissed, and Diesel will be infuriated, but I can’t wait for them to come save me. I need to get my own ass out of here. Then I hear boots coming my way. My breathing picks up, my heart racing as I swallow back my bile.

Okay, whatever they do, I can handle it.

A lock clicks, the door opens, and three men step into the room. The door slams shut behind them with a loud snap. I’m locked in with them. Brilliant. I should play it cool, play it smart, but as always, my mouth runs away with me.

“Evening, arseholes, is this a new kink? ’Cause I gotta admit, it’s not doing it for me. I’m wet, but honestly, I think I peed myself a little, so I wouldn’t take that as a point for you.”

They don’t respond, but the one in the middle steps forward. He’s wearing a black suit with the top buttons undone. His short black hair is swept to the side, and his brown eyes are tight and angry. His lips are pursed, and I spot the number ‘three’ starting on his neck and stretching onto his shoulder. The other two are clearly goons. The one on the left has a shaved head. His body is bulky, encased in black jeans and a black t-shirt. I spot at least three guns on him, and he looks more like brawn than brains. The one on the right has a purple mohawk, a piercing through his left eyebrow and nose, and even one on his lip. His eyes are blue and a little wild as he grins at me. His body is lanky and covered in tattoos, and he has no shirt on, just some leather pants.

“Do they chafe you? I got the worst chafe from them, you know? Especially when you start sweating a lot, and in leather that’s all the time, am I right?” I ask him.

He grins wider. “Baby powder.”

“Huh,” I say seriously. “I’ll have to try that, thanks.”

“Enough!” the man in the suit barks, drawing my gaze back to him.

“What? I was just getting started. You should know I once talked my way out of a ticket…okay, three times, but who’s counting? Then there was that time I was in a Mexican jail and I—”

Fuck.

My head snaps around, and I swing from the slap he delivered. My cheek stings, but I laugh as he catches my swaying body and stills me, turning me to face him. “Damn, that’s fun, do it again, see how far you can swing me!”

He backhands me again, and this time I twirl, it sends bile rushing up my throat, and I hold it until I face them again, and then spew it on them. It sprays across his shoes and trousers, and I laugh as some of it drops down my cheek. “Damn, that was fun.” I cough.

He yells, stepping back and looking at his once shiny shoes in disgust. The mohawk guy laughs, and I wink at him. “I thought you would like that.”

“Shut her up,” the man in charge snarls, as he lifts his foot, glaring down at it.

The other man, Baldie, steps forward and slams the base of his gun into my stomach. My breath leaves me in a grunt, and I swing back and forth, pain splintering through my gut. He does it over and over until I can barely breathe, never mind talk. I feel my ribs crack, shit. So every breath I take hurts, causing pain to flow through me.

But I’ve had worse, so once I can breathe again, I let out a pained chuckle. “That was good. Got to admit, though, my boy is a torture master, and he’s a lot more inventive. Where are the toys? The fear? Come on, you guys can do better.”

“Oh, that will come later.” Mohawk grins in a good boy type of way.

“Roxxane, look at me,” the suit guy demands. So I do, and he steps closer, grabbing my shoulder and holding me still as he tilts his head down to meet my eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to tell us everything. We know you don’t want to be there with them, they stole you, but we can help you. Just tells us what we need to know to kill them, and then you will be free.”

“Yeah…see, I’d believe that more if you didn’t have me hanging like a pig. You should start with that before the chasing and the drugs, but your information is out of date, babes, I’m a fucking Viper.” I lunge my head forward, smashing mine into his.

Headbutts are not fun.

Headbutts hurt, kids.

He stumbles back with a howl, his nose busted as pain flares through my head. “Damn, dude, you got a thick skull,” I groan, closing my eyes for a second.

When I open them again, he’s cupping his bleeding nose, his eyes furious. “Andrew, she’s yours. Get me everything I need to know then kill her,” he orders, before turning and ripping open the door.

Baldie follows and it clicks shut, the lock sliding into place. Andrew, the mohawk guy, steps forward, cracking his knuckles as he grins at me. “This will be fun.”

I sigh. “Andrew, really? I was expecting some cool name. Does your mummy even know you’re here? Do you need a permit?”

He grins wider, and then his fist comes at my face and everything goes black.

When I wake up, I’m tied to a wooden chair. Groaning, I stare down at my hands, each one bound to the chair arms, my legs are restrained too. Fuckers. The barbed wire they used to tie me digs into my wrists and ankles as I shuffle in the chair, trying to break free.

Well, that’s new. Stilling, I lift my head, saliva and blood dripping down my chin. There’s a marching band in my skull, my shoulders and back are killing me from hanging upside down, and my lungs are tight and my ribs creak with each breath.

Andrew isn’t here, probably somewhere jerking himself off, so I close my eyes for a moment, breathing through the pain. Those minutes fade as my mind drifts. It’s funny how when the end is coming, you start to think about the beginning.

My life has never been easy, but I gotta admit, I didn’t think it would end here. Of all the ways I thought I would die, this was never one of them. That’s the thing, though, life doesn’t owe you a goddamn fucking thing.

It doesn’t owe you life, you have to fight for it to endure and survive. And I did.

It’s filled with moments, of winding paths and unexpected turns. Each person that comes into your life offers you a new world, a new place and feelings, not always good, and from each one, we have the opportunity to learn. Whether we accept those lessons is on us. From my dad, I learned to accept pain, to understand how strong my body is, even when it’s broken repeatedly, and from that, I know I can survive this. Each person has taught me something.

Love, love is enduring. Love is blind. Love is messy and so perfect, we search our entire lives for it, even when we think we aren’t. I guess I wasn’t either, but I found it anyway in the form of four criminals. Their hearts as dark as their souls.

The thing is, I never tried to fight them, not really. I guess a part of me recognised them, and even though my mind was muddled with betrayal and anger, deep down, we clicked like pieces of a puzzle slotting together.

Diesel saw that before any of us. The rest of us lived in ignorance, unwilling to bend and break. Not him, he ripped open those walls inside me, refusing to hide from the truth. Some might call him crazy, but maybe he’s just enlightened…and, okay, a little crazy.

Kenzo…fuck, Kenzo. It will kill him if I die. He already lost his mum, and he’s got such a caring heart, even if you don’t always see it. When he loves, he loves hard. He’s all in.

Ryder will blame himself. He thinks it’s his job to protect everyone, to see everything coming, but he’s only human. It won’t stop him from hating himself however.

Garrett is so close to the edge anyway, this might push him over. My scarred enforcer will become lost in his demons until it gets him killed.

So no, I can’t die here, because it might break them, make them weak, and let the Triad kill them. I refuse to be the reason they die. I refuse to die myself.

As soon as I realise that, calm settles in my bones. I’m not fucking dying here. If I’m going to die, it will be surrounded by my men with a gun in my hand and a smile on my face. I need to tell them I love them.

The door opens, and Andrew strolls in, followed by Baldie. Shit, okay, it’s torture time. I’ve survived worse, I can survive this. I keep telling myself that as I tilt my head back and offer them a smile. “Hello, boys, my safe word is bubbles, by the way.”

“You won’t need a safe word,” Baldie jokes.

“I bet you say that to all the girls, probably why you don’t get past the first date.” I grin.

Mohawk, Andrew, laughs. “She’s not wrong.”

Baldie steps towards me and slams the gun into my stomach, making me puff out a breath. When I can finally breathe again, I grin. “Damn, boy, don’t you know how to play? You gotta start soft, get them all warmed up for you. You don’t just slam your piece in hoping for the best.” I look over at Andrew. “Who’s the newb? Do you bring him around like one of those women with chihuahuas in their purses?”

He bursts out laughing and glances over at Baldie, whose whole head is turning red. I watch with sick fascination as it crawls along his shiny head. “Do you wax that? Like, do you buff it too, like polishing floors? ’Cause it’s hella shiny—”

This time, he smashes the gun into my aching shoulder. A grunt escapes my lips from the sudden blast of pain, and I try to curl into it to protect it. I learned when I was young that eventually, everyone screams, it might spur them on, but honestly, people only don’t scream in the movies. Oh, a knife in your gut? Let me just stay silent, it doesn’t work that way. But there are two ways you can play it—you can let them destroy you, break you down, or you can use it against them.

Flip the narrative, be unexpected.

That’s what I do. When I can breathe without crying, I wink at him. “Is your nob bald too?”

He slams his gun into my other shoulder, and I feel a crack, goddamn bitch. “Motherfucking bald bitch,” I snarl. “That ain’t no way to treat a lady.”

“You ain’t no fucking lady, you whore, you’re a dead woman walking.”

It goes silent then, and I look over at Andrew. “This is super awkward, ’cause I’m not walking. Do you think he gets all his lines from bad action movies?”

This time Andrew stops him. “Franny, enough,” he snaps. “She’s mine, you’re here for muscle.”

I hold in my laughter for as long as I can, which is all of thirty seconds, then I laugh so hard, a bit of pee comes out. “Oh my God, your name is Franny? Holy shit, no wonder you’ve got anger issues, poor Franny!” I howl.

Baldie growls and comes towards me, but Andrew slides in front of him and, for a moment, I see why he’s the torturer. Anger flickers across his face, and he seems to grow larger. Baldie, aka Franny, backs down, swearing as he turns away, and then Andrew relaxes, slouching again and grinning like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

But I’ve seen it now, what he hides underneath. The true Andrew, he likes pain, he likes it to hurt, this should be…fucking horrible.

Andrew turns and shrugs. “Behave, he might kill you.”

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna work. People have been telling me to behave since I was a kid, and look where I am.” I shrug in an ‘aww shucks’ type way as he heads over to a tray and sets out his equipment. “So tell me, how long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, a few years,” he replies, as he picks up a scalpel.

“Get a lot of customers?” I inquire calmly.

He steps before me with a cruel smile. “You’re a strange one, do you know that? Never mind, they all bleed red.”

“How freaked would you be if my blood came out blue now?” I laugh, but it turns into a groan. I grind my teeth as he slashes across my face, a light cut, but enough that I feel blood drip down my cheek. “Motherfucker, that’s the goddamn money maker, kid.”

“Apologies.” He nods and drags the blade down my arm. “Is that better?”

“Much, thanks. Don’t fuck up my tats, though, or Garrett will be pissed, and last time he had to tattoo me…well, let’s just say it was a happy ending all around.”

Andrew grins. “Of course.” He starts to slice the knife across the top of my feet, and I let out a little scream which has Baldie laughing.

“Hey, Franny, you think your mum called you that because of your giant vagina?” I call breathlessly.

Andrew steps it up a notch then. When he slices across my stomach, I have no time for talking, all I can do for the next however long is breathe and scream. When he moves back, my head hangs as I struggle to hold in my tears, so being the crazy bitch I am, I twist my wrist in the barbed wire, cutting it so the pain pushes back the waterworks.

They can have my screams, nothing else.

When I’m more me, I raise my head and spit blood at Baldie and laugh. “That was fun, what’s next?”

“Tell me how to get into their apartment?” Andrew questions. Ah, so they don’t know that much.

“I don’t know, they like to blindfold me, the kinky bastards.” I grin.

He stabs me again, and I groan but breathe through it, the agony surging inside me now. Shit, shit, shit. Do not fucking pass out, Roxy. When I feel like I’m not going to, I smile at him, my lips feeling a bit numb. “Can I call a friend for the answer?”

He sighs and wipes the blade. “Come on, Roxy, it would be a shame to waste such a woman. Tell me what I need to know. Tell me everything about the Vipers.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna hard pass on that one. No passing go, no collecting your money, bitch, those fuckers are insane.”

He crouches and grabs my knees, peering up at me. “More scared of them than me?”

“Hell fucking yes. Did you not hear me? They are insane, and they like me! Imagine what they do to people they don’t like…” I grin wider then. “Imagine what they will do to you for touching me. Last time, they broke the guy’s hands and ripped out his tongue…I wonder, will you scream?”

I watch as he lifts the knife covered in blood. It reminds me of Diesel, and weirdly, my pussy clenches…like, really, ho? Now is not the time.

Yeah, I’ve successfully pissed Andrew off.

He backhands me, and my head snaps to the side as blood fills my mouth. Spitting it out, I turn back around with a laugh, grinning widely at him, blood undoubtedly covering my teeth and lips if his disgusted sneer is anything to go by. “You call this torture? My foreplay is harder. Come on, you can do better,” I taunt.

“Tell me!” he roars in my face, impatient now that he’s realising how hard it will be to break me.

Licking my lips, I look between his eyes. There’s no way I’m betraying my guys. They tell you under torture to reveal information that’s not important and is close to the truth, but no way am I risking that. Diesel would murder me, love or not. I know it’s going to bring a world of pain, but I can take it.

I can survive it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod seriously, my whole body aching, blood dripping down my curves, and agony ripping through my veins. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you…”

They both wait expectantly as I try to make myself look meek and broken, even letting tears fill my eyes, real ones from the hurt. Sucking in another painful breath, my ribs protesting, I belt out, “And I will always love you…” Andrew flinches from how loud I sing.

He backhands me again, cutting me off mid-song, so I spit the blood out and spin back to him. “No? Not feeling it? What about some Metallica? No, what about Tay-Tay? You look like a secret Swifty fan!”

Baldie steps forward, aiming his gun at me. “Make her talk,” he demands. “We don’t have long before they come for her.”

I grin at that. “Franny, they already are, and you’re so fucked. Now where was I? Oh, Tay-Tay—” I start to sing and, with a growl, he rips open the door and storms off. “Wait!” I call. “We were having so much fun, Franny! I didn’t even get to my originals yet!”

Andrew sighs as if he’s disappointed in me. “Roxy, this could have been so easy. You could have died quickly.”

“Yeah, I never liked the easy option. What can I say? I like them hard.” I grin at him.

He rips off that calm mask now, though, and I know I’ve got a world of pain coming. Let’s hope I can survive this shit, because my Vipers are coming, I know that, and if they find me dead…the city wouldn’t survive their wrath.

The time passes slowly, excruciatingly slowly, like the pain flowing through me all over my body. He’s masochistic, not as good as D, but it still does the trick. My screams ring out around us, and tears finally fall, covering my cheeks. Blood pools beneath me, my fingers slippery with it. He pulls some toenails, breaks some toes. He snaps my finger. He stabs, slices, and cuts. He covers my head in a bag and pours water across it until I can’t breathe, until I think I might drown, and when he rips it free, water flows from my mouth to my chest, my lungs burning from the icy liquid.

“Thanks, I was thirsty,” I croak.

He’s trying his hardest. His job and life are on the line if he doesn’t get the information, but here’s the thing…I would die before I betrayed them, before I betrayed anyone who gave me a chance, who was kind to me…and my Vipers?

They love me.

And, weirdly enough, I fucking love them too.

So if I die here, alone in a goddamn nasty room, then so be it. I’ve been flirting with death since I was a kid, and dying for the people you love seems like a good way to go.

Andrew can’t change that. He can break my body over and over again, he can make me scream and cry, he can make me beg for death, but not one word about my men will pass my lips. I think he’s beginning to realise that when he sits back and watches me.

“I have to admire your loyalty.” He sighs. “Irritating, but impressive. Tell me, did they really buy you?”

I nod, wetting my lips.

“So, why the loyalty?” he asks curiously.

“’Cause we started off badly, but now they are my everything.” I shrug. “You know how it is, let’s face it, every romantic story is fucked up in some way. Romeo and Juliet? They were fucking kids, and they died. Don’t even get me started on that atonement, Jesus, I cried like a baby. Loyalty is earned, not bought.”

“And they earned it?” he queries.

I don’t answer, and he nods. “I have to update my boss, think on that.” He stands and leaves, and I watch him go, the slam of the door and click of the lock loud in the dank room.

Have they earned it? His question reverberates in my head.

There is no question we are all messed up and our love is weird…but loyalty? Yes, they earned it, and they will continue to, because I know they will do anything to protect me. Save me. Give me anything I need.

When no one else did, they saw past the attitude and scars, and kept going until they got to me.

I’m not a child or stupid. I know if I betray them they will kill me, even if they love me, but that’s not why I don’t do it. It’s because I couldn’t stand to hurt them that way, even to save my own life, and if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

Sometimes in life, you meet people worth dying for, and they are usually the same people who are also worth living for. But you can’t always have both. If all I can offer them now is my silence and death, I’ll do it.

I just wish I could take some of these fuckers down with me.

My men might be criminals and deal in death and power, but when it comes down to it, all they really want is love. A family. I refuse to break that.

They might be my strength, but I’m their weakness.

Just then, an explosion sounds above me, and the whole building rocks as dust falls from the ceiling. I smirk, knowing exactly who it is.

I don’t need no fucking hero to come save me, I can save myself, yet not once did I doubt they would help me, help me save myself, and I was right.

For once, someone didn’t let me down.

And I refuse to disappoint them.

It’s time to get free and meet my boys, then we are killing all these motherfuckers.

Okay, Roxy, time to rock this shit. As more explosions and gunshots go off upstairs, I look around before an idea comes to mind. It’s a stupid fucking idea, but it’s better than nothing. So, rocking from side to side, I build up momentum.

The chair starts to wobble, rocking with me, the creak loud in the room, but it’s drowned out by the fight going on. I swing harder and, with a yelp, the chair falls to the side. Crashing to the floor, I groan as I bang my head, but the chair explodes. I roll onto my back and moan, lying there for a moment. I landed on my left shoulder, which isn’t working. Shit, I think I dislocated it.

Fuck me, John Wick made that shit look easy. He lied, it hurts like a son of bitch, worse than that first cock in the ass.

Sitting up, I notice the chair pieces are still attached to my arms and legs by the wire. Shit. Smashing my wrist into the floor, I manage to get the wood free and then unwrap each wire before doing the same to my ankles. I’m only able to use one hand, since my other arm is hanging funny. I whimper as I peel the barbs away, watching the blood gushing from my ankles and hands. The bitches.

It’s slow going, really slow going, and when I’m done, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. Now to get the door open. Pushing up to stand on unsteady bare feet, I hold my arm across my chest protectively, wincing at the pain racing through me.

Here’s another dumb idea.

“Yo, Franny, you out there?” I scream. “Franny, I’m free, better come get me!”

The door clicks and opens, revealing Franny. When he sees me, he growls and comes at me. Here goes nothing…

I pretend to fall, grabbing the bottom of the chair arm in my good hand, before I leap up as he gets closer and smash it into his stupid face again and again with a scream. He howls and lurches back, trying to block me, his gun dropping to the floor.

I keep smashing until he’s on the ground. Panting, I grab the gun in my other hand and press it to his head. His eyes widen, blood flowing down his face. “Bye, Franny, been nice knowing you.” I pull the trigger. Clutching the gun closer, I groan as I step towards the door.

God, I want a nap.