Page 203 of Ride the Sky

I yank at my chains, slam my fists against the mesh wire, and scream. “Twisted motherfucker! You piece of shit. You’re fucking dead.”

God help this motherfucker when I get out of here. He is in the fucking ground with Aiden King and Declan Valiante and Gavin Cross.

Tripp, focused on Fallon, mutters, “Careful with her. I have to be careful with her.” As he caresses a finger over her cheek, he looks at me. His lips turn up. “You, not so much.”

Rage tears at me as I stare at Fallon, desperate to help her but unable to.

Tripp knew what he was doing keeping us separated. Cruelest fucking torture I’ve ever been through.

And yet, it gets worse.

Tripp leans down and presses a kiss to her mouth.

A cold sweat sweeps my skin. “Don’t,” I croak, close to breaking down.

“Mmm, tastes good,” he says with a grin. “Whiskey.” He drags a finger across her mouth, parting her full lips. He cups her face, caresses her hair.

Christ. My heart almost stops.

“Don’t,” I beg. “Don’t fucking don’t touch her.”

If he touches her—if he—

I squeeze my eyes shut; the thought too awful to bare. I’ll lose my goddamn mind. I’ll tear this cage apart with my bare hands.

Tripp reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring.

My fucking ring. Every part of my body aches to gut the bastard.

I fight harder at my chains, sweat dripping down my neck, boots scraping across cement floor.

“You don’t like that, do you?” He slips the gold band on his hand, grins at me as he flexes his fingers. A black cloud storms across his features. “Feels good. Feels right.”

“You sick piece of shit,” I seethe.

“What if I…” My muscles stiffen as he undoes his belt. “Take her with me?” He slides the ring of keys off his belt buckle and uncuffs Fallon’s shackles. They pop open. “What if I take her upstairs, huh, asshole? What’ll you do then?”

“I’m going to kill you!” I lunge and I lunge and I lunge. The cage, the chains, rattle. I stop when I feel one edge of the cage lift.

Setting the keyring on the ground, Tripp cradles Fallon’s unconscious body in his arms. The motion has me sick to mystomach, has me gasping for air, has me seeing nothing but red, nothing but Tripp’s blood all over the floor of the basement.

“Fallon!” I shake the cage. “FALLON!”

Tripp lifts Fallon in his arms, stands.

“NO!”

He takes one step, and then we both freeze.

Truck tires.

The sound of a doorbell.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His eyes move to the stairs.

I hold my breath, staring directly at Fallon. Willing her to wake up. To hear my plea.

I’m sorry.

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