Page 96 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
He crushes me into the mattress, his cologne suffocating as he presses his mouth to my neck. I feel his teeth scrape againstmy pulse point, not gently, not with passion, but with ownership—marking territory, nothing more.
“Stop,” I manage.
His laugh vibrates against my skin. “Already begging? We've barely started.” His hand slides up to wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make black spots dance at the edges of my vision. “Maybe I'll let him have what's left when I'm done. A parting gift before I put a bullet in his head.”
I feel his other hand working at his belt, the clink of metal and rustle of expensive fabric a death knell. My muscles seize with remembered trauma, my body bracing for invasion even as my mind fractures.
“That's it,” he encourages. “Fight me. It's so much better when you fight.”
His free hand traces a path down my stomach, each touch leaving a trail of revulsion in its wake. I try to buck him off, but he only laughs, pressing more firmly against me.
“Remember how I taught you to be still?” he asks, reaching into his pocket. The glint of metal catches the light—a switchblade, its edge winking cruelly as he flicks it open. “Maybe you need a refresher course.”
The cold press of steel against my ribs steals the breath from my lungs. The blade's edge kisses my skin just below my breast, not cutting—not yet—but promising pain if I move.
“There's my good girl. Still as death, just like I taught you.”
Through my terror, I hear Thor making muffled sounds of rage behind the gag. The zip ties binding his wrists must be cutting deep. I can hear the wet sound of his blood dripping onto concrete as he strains against them.
“Don't worry, biker,” Terrance calls over his shoulder. “I'll make sure she screams your name. For old time's sake.”
The knife traces a delicate line across my ribs, not deep enough to scar but enough to draw blood. I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from crying out.
“Beautiful,” Terrance murmurs, watching the thin line of red well up on my skin. “Pain looks so good on you, Charlotte. I'd forgotten how much I missed this.”
I close my eyes, trying to disappear into the darkness behind my eyelids. But he grabs my face roughly, fingers digging into my cheeks.
“Eyes open. I want you to see what's coming. I want you to remember who you belong to.”
He releases me and moves his hand back to his fly. The sound of his zipper is drowned out by an explosion that rocks the entire building.
The concrete walls shudder as dust rains from the ceiling, and the single bulb overhead flickers wildly. Terrance freezes above me, his head snapping toward the door as automatic gunfire erupts somewhere in the distance—rapid, sustained bursts that echo through the warehouse like thunder.
“What the fuck—” he starts, but another explosion cuts him off, this one closer. Much closer.
The two men holding Thor exchange panicked glances as orders begin to be shouted in the distance. Heavy boots pound against concrete, growing louder with each passing second.
“Boss, we need to move,” one of them says, his grip on Thor loosening slightly. “Sounds like the whole fucking cavalry just showed up.”
Terrance's face contorts with rage as he climbs off me, hastily zipping his pants. “It's too early. They weren't supposed to be here yet.”
“Well, they're here now,” the other man snaps, already moving toward the door. “And they're coming in hot.”
The gunfire intensifies, punctuated by the distinctive roar of motorcycle engines. Lots of them. The sound sends a surge of hope through my drug-addled system—a lifeline in the darkness.
“Raze,” Thor growls around the gag, his good eye blazing with fierce satisfaction.
Terrance backhands him viciously. “Shut up!” He turns to his men, face flushed with panic and fury. “Get her ready for transport. We leave through the back exit.”
“What about him?” one of the men asks, nodding toward Thor.
Terrance stares down at Thor's bloodied form. “Kill him. Make it quick.”
“No!” I scream, thrashing against my restraints with renewed desperation. The metal cuts deeper, but I don't care. Blood streams down my arms as I fight to get free.
The man raises his gun, pressing it to Thor’s temple. Across the room, Thor’s eye finds mine—and what I see there stops my heart. Acceptance. He’s going to die, and he knows it. But there’s no fear in his gaze. Only love. Fierce, unwavering love...and a determination so strong, not even the shadow of death can dim it.
The warehouse shudders again as another explosion rocks the building. Closer this time. The lights flicker and die, plunging us into darkness broken only by the muzzle flashes visible through the gap under the door.
