Page 84 of At Your Mercy
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, twisting once, twice. Nothing. My ankles were tied, too. The person who did this knew what they were doing.
I let my head drop forward, eyes shut as I forced my thoughts into order.
Last thing I remembered—
Fuck.
I’d been heading to the bookstore downtown. I’d parked near the corner and had just walked onto the sidewalk when five men, maybe six, had come out of nowhere.
They moved fast; they were coordinated. Not junkies or street thugs, but trained muscle.
I remembered drawing my gun, hitting three guys, and then—an impact, a sharp pain at the base of my skull before everything went black.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, trying to piece together how long I’d been out. My mouth was dry, my throat raw. Judging by the darkness outside of the narrow basement window, enough time had passed for the sun to set.
An hour or two, at least.
I tugged at the bindings again, harder this time. The chair rocked slightly, scraping against the concrete. Nothing budged.
“Think,” I told myself.
Who would take me?
Elias was the obvious answer, but I hadn’t thought he’d risk being this direct.
Unless…
A flicker of something colder threaded through my chest.
Ro.
If Elias had taken me, then he had already found out about everything.
And if he’d found out, then Ro—
I clenched my jaw and cut the thought off. Useless. Panicking over hypotheticals wouldn’t change anything. I needed to get loose, get my bearings, and then figure out if I was alone.
But before I could try anything, I heard footsteps. Each creak of the wood above made the pain in my head pulse harder, my instincts sharpening in time with it.
I straightened in the chair, every muscle taut, eyes locked on the shadows stretching toward me from the stairwell.
Whoever was coming down wasn’t in a hurry. When they finally stepped into view, I cursed in my head. I recognized him from the pictures.
If I didn’t know what he’d done—what he was capable of—I might’ve thought he was handsome.
The reddish-brown of his hair caught the light like polished copper. His green eyes were sharp, intelligent, and unsettlingly calm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a slate-gray button-up that looked tailored within an inch of perfection. Even his watch glinted expensively in the low light.
But I knew the truth.
I knew what a disgustingly sick freak the bastard was.
He smiled faintly when our eyes met, as if we were just two old friends reuniting. “Wesley,” Elias said smoothly. “Good. You’re awake. I was starting to worry I’d been a bit too rough with the welcoming committee. Don’t want you dead before the fun starts, do we?”
“Where is he?” I snarled, straining against my binds.
Elias chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, he should be here soon. Hopefully, he remembers the address.”
I grimaced at the pounding in my head. Fuck, I hope I didn’t have a concussion.
