Page 22

22

BAJA

Pain radiates through my skull and my ribcage as I wake up, accompanied by the copper tang of blood filling my mouth. My vision blurs as I struggle to open my eyes, but I can make out the dim light of a single bulb hanging above me. I go to move my arms, but I’m met with resistance. My wrists burn where they’re tied behind my back, and my knees ache from the cold, hard floor.

“Rise and shine, motherfucker.” The voice I hear is gravelly and mocking.

I blink hard, my vision clearing and eyes locking onto the bastard before me?—

Havoc. His face is a void, revealing nothing but cold indifference. Two men, arms crossed like impenetrable walls, are towering behind him, while a tripod stands between them, a phone bound to it with duct tape and the lens glaring at me.

“I underestimated your driving skills.” Havoc crouches down to my level. “Imagine my surprise not finding my bride among the wreckage with you.” He lifts his hand, takes a drag from the cigarette between his fingers, and blows smoke in my face. He stares intently at the glowing end of the cigarette, then brutally presses it against my neck, unleashing a vicious burn that ignites a wave of pain. “Thought you could keep her from me, motherfucker? She’s mine ,” he sneers.

I spit blood on the ground between us, smirking while fighting back a wave of nausea because my head feels like it’s splitting open. “You so hard up that you have to keep a broken woman prisoner to get your ugly ass some pussy?”

The backhand comes fast, snapping my head to the side. Stars explode in my vision, and I taste more blood.

Adding fuel to the fire, I laugh through the pain.

Havoc leans in close, his breath reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He stands and steps back, snapping his fingers.

A couple of men drag someone into the room, a man whose salt-n-pepper beard and weary eyes I would recognize anywhere. Uncle Jax. I struggle against the ropes cutting into my wrists. My uncle looks rough, shirtless, with blood smeared down his face. His eyes find me, steady and defiant as ever. He doesn’t flinch as one of the men shoves him to the ground. My eyes flick to the two motherfuckers who brought him in, their smug faces smirking at me.

I recognize their faces, too.

They’re the two bastards who took off, leaving their friend behind the night they jumped me at the strip club.

Havoc looks at his men. “Make the call.” He stands in front of me and Jax, facing the phone.

“Baja…” I hear the hardness in Salem’s voice. “Where are you?”

Havoc steps to the side, and Salem’s face appears on the phone screen. “Nothin’ like a family reunion,” Havoc mocks.

“You’ve picked the wrong club to fuck with, Havoc,” Salem growls.

“You have something that belongs to me, Raven. And if I don’t get her in the next two hours?—”

I quickly interrupt, “You might as well kill me, motherfucker. Because it will be a cold day in hell before we hand Lily over,” I growl, pulling at my restraints.

Havoc chuckles, pulling a large blade from his side. “Club before bitches, right?” He twirls the knife. “Let’s see how loyal your brothers are when they watch you bleed.”

Havoc’s men haul me off the floor, untie my hands, and string me up by my wrists again, my body swaying as I hang from a massive meat hook attached to a heavy chain wrapped around a large steel beam. Every muscle in my body screams in protest.

Havoc strolls up to me and drags the tip of his blade down my cheek, applying enough pressure to cut through my skin. He then uses the knife to rip through the fabric of my Superman shirt, exposing my chest and making me flinch when the blade presses against the gunshot wound on my side.

I growl, biting the inside of my cheek, my body jerking as he digs into my wound. My vision fades around the edges when the level of pain rises beyond anything I’ve experienced before.

“Will you look at that?” Havoc steps back, his hand and knife stained with my blood, holding a small object between his fingertips. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch. The bullet got lodged in your ribcage.” He places the bullet fragment into my pocket. “Souvenir.” Havoc smirks.

My heart pounds, not from fear—because I’m prepared to die—but from rage. I glare at Havoc. “I’m going to kill you,” I threaten.

“You can try.” Havoc smirks and takes a step back.

Pain sears through my body like wildfire, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else, but I refuse to let it consume me. I push through the torment and keep fighting.

The time that follows is hell. Havoc’s men take turns roughing me up even further, all while my brothers helplessly watch by phone. Blood pools in my mouth, and my vision swims, the entire time not giving them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

When they finally stop, Havoc turns to the phone. “You got two hours to give back what belongs to me. After that? I’ll start sending body parts if Lily isn’t standing alone at the Salem city limit sign.”

He walks off.