Page 88 of Target

“Fuck, I love seeing that I upset you, seeing you cry because of me.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, which is swollen from being slapped by the man in front of me.

His eyes glimmer with excitement seeing the pain and marks he has caused me. I flinch from his touch, making his wicked smile widen. In a flash he grips my hair, yanking my face closer to his.

The sounds of the room gets muted, as my blood rushes through my ears in fear.

This man intends to hurt me or worse before he is done with me.

Crypt is not a man to be left, he has made that clear. He took me six hours ago, and I have no idea how long it took Kohen to work out that I was taken. I also do not know the condition of the prospect Crypt bragged about stabbing, leaving him for dead.

“You know I looked for you when I got out, but I was told by some bitch you worked with that you bolted. Fucking ran from me. That did not make me happy,” he hisses.

“I needed a fresh start, and you were locked up, Crypt. You hurt me before you got sent away.”

“You were my girl, you were supposed to fucking wait for me. Instead, you packed up all of your shit, and left.” He lets my jaw go, and sits in the old wooden chair next to me.

“You don’t need me, Eddie. You can have any woman you want, strung-out or not.” I wave at the girls. “Most girls like being with a bad boy, because they live for that, but that is not me. I never was and never will.”

I appeal to his male ego, stroking it in the hopes that he will let me go. He is a good enough looking man, and yes, women used to fawn over him. It was hurtful to see at the time because I thought I was his one and only, but that turned out to be a lie.

“You are fucking a biker, are you not?” he states.

I sigh, twisting my fingers together, the rope around my wrists burning my skin when I try to get loose. Blood coats my skin and I hope that it does not scar or get infected.

“Target is different. He treats me with respect and love. He would never hit me. The Rugged Skulls MC is completely different from your club, that likes to hurt people for fun.” My voice raises as I finish speaking.

I do not have time to dodge the palm that connects with my face again. I bite my lip, tasting blood but trying to keep my cries of pain in so he does not relish in the pain.

Sitting forward, he rests his elbows on his knees glaring at me, his eyes filled with hate.

“The Rugged Skulls is a pussy club. They are weak, when they could be so fucking powerful.”

“Weak men hit women,” I belt out before I can stop myself, which gets me another slap. This time his ring must spin on his finger because I scream, feeling my skin split open.

He brings his face to mine, gripping my jaw in a painful hold. I wince but hold in any sound that is trying to break free.

“I am not weak. I got myself through my prison time, bitch. No fucker messed with me once I put down a fucker from a rival club.” The grin on his face makes me sick.

The pride in his once blank eyes shows that he was more than okay with hurting and killing people. This is not the Eddie I thought I loved.

“What happened to you?” I breathed.

He pushes me back then sinks into his seat, his legs spread wide.

“Life fucking happened. I went to prison for my club, left you on the outside waiting for me, but you fucking left. Bolted at the first sign of trouble.”

“The first sign? Crypt, there were many signs: the verbal abuse, the cheating, then the hits started. Did you know thatwhen you went away, the club wanted me to be a club whore until you got back?”

He shrugs, just fucking shrugs, like he expected me to do what I was told.

“You really felt nothing for me? Then why all this? If I meant nothing to you, then why come for me, and hurt me? You could have just let me be and the Rugged Skulls would not come hunting, because believe me, they will.” My voice is soft but I can’t stop the tremor that vibrates through me.

Fear is front and center of this interaction.

His eyes take on a look that says whatever I just said angers him. My heart stutters in my chest when the corner of his lips arches up, baring teeth to me.

“You took something of mine.”

I lean back in my seat, tilting my head at him in confusion. My mind reels back to what I packed up from my little apartment that I shared with him when he was not at the club, and nothing I took belonged to him.

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