Page 50 of Bear Hunt

“Frozen Hell. That’s what this is. This is where my dick will die a cold, cold death.”

“If you’re poundin’, Grinder, the blood flow will keep your dick from falling off.” Despite the anger and the fear and the need to destroy, we all laugh at Bash’s quick comeback. Kid’s learning.

With our backpacks for some and duffles for others, we file out in a single line and jog down the stairs, careful not to fall on our asses. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but the ice is already forming on the polished steps. We’re not equipped for this shit. We left North Carolina so fast, no one had time to buy the appropriate clothing to survive these conditions. At least it’s sunny. Kind of. I think that’s the sun trying to peek out of that one hole in the gray clouds.

“Welcome to Montana, boys. I hope you brought better shit than that ‘cause none of us wants to scrape your frozen bodies from the ground.” Tank doesn’t laugh at his own joke, which tells me he ain’t kidding.

“I think my nose hairs are frozen.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“Are these gloves even working?”

While Bash and Grinder ping pong their troubles at one another, I jog up to shake Tank’s hand, then move on to the others.

“Hey, man. I’m Sarge, Tank’s brother.” Yeah, no shit. Good thing one’s got long hair and the other has no problem showing his military background with his high and tight.

“Sup, Sarge. I’m Bear. Thanks for helping us out, man. We really appreciate it.”

“No problem. We protect and we help our own, right?” I like Sarge immediately. That glint in his light-blue eyes tells me he’s a straight shooter and the fact he holds my gaze when speaking tells me he’s solid, dependable.

“Damn straight.” He’s right too. We would’ve done the exact same for him and the rest of this crew.

“This here is Texas. He’s loving our cold weather about as much as you.” Sarge slaps Texas on the shoulder, causing the younger guy to grunt.

“I’m guessin’ you’re from the Lone Star state?” We shake hands as he rolls his eyes.

“My name’s Austin, like the city? And I lived in Texas for about six months. They’ll never let me forget that.” We all chuckle and it feels like we’ve known each other our whole lives.

“When you’re born and bred in Montana, leaving for Texas should be a crime.” Damn, cowboys are serious about their homeland.

The noise from the sliding doors gets our attention and I realize that this whole time, other brothers have been loading up the trucks. Efficient motherfuckers. I like them.

By the time we make it to the clubhouse, shower, and put on warmer clothes, it’s already dinner time. These guys don’t mess around when it comes to eating. I guess they need their meat and potatoes to survive the fucking tundra.

“Here’s the deal. Those addresses you sent, Sledge, they’re in Gopher Crotch.” I frown because who the fuck names a town like that? “It’s small, in the middle of no fucking where, and it’s called Creek’s Arrow, about an hour’s drive from here. Some bougie business assholes came around and bought up a bunch of land and created some kind of rich resort. Rumor has it, the whole town is owned by the same guy.” Tank pauses to look down at a piece of paper, then nods. When he looks back up, those light blue eyes are as frigid as the temperatures outside. “Barry Grouse.”

I snarl at the sound of the name. It’s visceral, like knowing this information gets me closer to my goal. A torturous and bloody goal.

“So, what’s the plan?” I haven’t spoken this whole time but I need to know.

“We’ve got three guys up there on recon.” Sarge is in deep military mode, his words clipped and simple. “A dozen guards at any one time walking the perimeter, gated community, cameras all around. Won’t be easy but it’s not impossible. My buddy at the Army Navy surplus store hooked us up with everything we need.” When he leans back in his chair, I see the killer instinct in him. He’s enjoying this and I’m fucking here for it.

“Rest up tonight, brothers, because tomorrow we train, and the next day we show those fuckers what it means to bring Khaos.”

Chapter Twenty

Athena

It’s been days. Days of lying here in torn panties, just the elastic remains around my waist and one of my thighs. At least I’m not chained to the wall anymore, but I’m so weak I can barely hold myself up.

Mrs. Laurel has paid me intermittent visits with bland food and water. It’s nothing at all like the food Maribel made, and I was so looking forward to trying Vanessa’s mac n’ cheese. Grinder told me it tasted like Heaven in the mouth, which apparently was saying a lot because he’d had a lot of dicks and pussy in there to compare it against. His words.

In less than a week, Bear and his family of friends embraced me, made me feel important, made me feel like more than a slave. I was a real live person for all of a few days.

A small smile tips the corners of my mouth and I wince at the memory of the best night of my life. I could really see myself making actual real-life friends of my own. Could. I don’t anymore. I already saved myself once, I’m not sure how muchI have left in me to do it again if it’s only going to cause more pain. My single sliver of hope comes not from the movies I was allowed, but the books that I managed to hide away over the years. Good old Hermione Granger. She never gave up, no matter how much the odds were against her.

I know the novels are based around Harry Potter, but Hermione is the real hero in those stories. Escaping made me feel like my own hero, but here I am again. I was too complacent. There was no action. Only hiding.

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