Page 16 of Edge (Redline Kings MC #4)

CALLIE

T hey’d dumped me in a small room, ropes binding me to a chair so tight I couldn’t move.

The ropes bit into my wrists, grinding raw patches into my skin every time I shifted.

My ankles were lashed to the chair legs just as tightly, the wood creaking whenever I tried to move.

The taste of blood was sharp every time my tongue darted out, and my split lip throbbed.

My head pounded from the blow I’d taken when they’d dragged me into the van, a sharp ache that made the dim space blur in and out of focus.

The only positive so far was that nobody had struck me in the belly.

I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady. In and out. If I let panic take over, I’d drown in it.

The room smelled damp, and a single bulb dangled overhead, swaying slightly from where one of them had slammed the door too hard earlier. Its yellow light stuttered, cutting shadows deep into the corners.

I’d been able to catch fragments of their conversation through the door. Talk of weapons…and Tatum’s road name, Edge.

I was leverage. Just a tool. And since I’d seen all of their faces, I had to assume that once they had what they wanted from him, I’d be disposable.

My stomach rolled, bile sharp in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold on to Tatum’s voice. The last thing I’d heard before the van door slammed shut had been him calling my name, fierce and demanding. He’d heard enough to know I was in danger.

And he wasn’t the kind of man to let me go through this alone. He’d claimed me. Loved me. The second my scream cut off, I knew he’d already be moving—tracking, hunting, tearing the world apart if that was what it took to find me. And he’d have help from his Redline Kings brothers.

The guys who took me might’ve been able to catch me by surprise, but they’d have their hands full with Tatum. I just needed to survive long enough for him to find me. And maybe make it a little easier for him to get me out of here when he arrived.

I tested the ropes again, twisting my wrists until the fibers burned. But there was no give. My shoulders ached, and my muscles screamed in protest, but I refused to stop trying. If there was even the smallest chance of untying myself, I had to take it.

I thought of Tatum’s hands on me, strong and steady, the way he’d pulled me against him like I was his whole world. I thought of how certain he sounded every time he told me that I was his.

I clung to his love for me and mine for him, grateful that we’d fallen for each other so quickly that we’d already shared the words. Otherwise, I would’ve been completely freaked out right now, unsure if he’d be on his way to rescue me.

The fragile thread of hope I’d been clinging to frayed when the door banged open, the hinges shrieking in protest. My head jerked up, heart hammering as a man stepped inside. His shoulders filled the frame, and his gaze zeroed straight on me, a mean gleam in his eyes.

He shut the door with a deliberate slam and leaned against it, arms folded. “Well, look at you, sittin’ real pretty with none of the fight my men said you had when they grabbed you for me.”

His men. So this was the guy who wanted something from Tatum.

I forced my chin high, though my wrists burned from the ropes and my lip throbbed. “Go to hell.”

His laugh was low and ugly as he pushed off the door and strode across the small room. His boots scuffed the concrete with every step until he crouched in front of me, close enough that I could see the scar slicing across his cheekbone.

“You’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that.” His gaze raked down my body, lingering on my breasts. “Too bad it won’t mean shit once I get what I came for.”

My stomach clenched, but I bared my teeth anyway. “You’re not getting anything from him.”

That wiped the smirk from his face. His eyes narrowed, and then his hand lashed out, fast as a whip. Pain exploded across my cheek as his palm cracked against me. My head snapped sideways, tears springing unbidden, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

I spat blood instead, the red flecking the front of his shirt.

“Bitch,” he snarled, grabbing my chin in a bruising grip and forcing my face toward his. “You think your biker boyfriend’s gonna save you? He’s not here now, is he?”

I glared at him through the sting in my eyes. “He’ll come. And when he does, you’ll wish you never sent anyone after me.”

For a second, something flickered in his gaze. Uncertainty, maybe. Or annoyance at my lack of fear. He shoved my face away with a curse and stood, pacing a short line across the room before turning back with a sneer.

“You’re already half-dead. You’re just too dumb to realize it.”

My pulse pounded, but I kept my mouth shut, breathing hard through my nose.

“Too dumb for a guy like Edge. The man is a genius when it comes to weapons. Too bad he wasn’t smart enough to accept my deal in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have needed to go to these lengths, and you would’ve been safe at your aunt’s little bookstore.”

I just quirked a brow, my hope for a quick rescue growing since this guy was clearly underestimating Tatum.

His gaze sharpened, as though he was trying to break me just by staring. Then he spat on the floor near my feet. “What happened to the girl who kicked and slashed at my guys? Have you given up so easily?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But shouldn’t you be happy if I’m not trying to get away?”

“There’s no chance of that happening.” He dragged his fingers through his hair with a scoff. “Right now, your precious boyfriend’s just sitting tight, waiting for me to send him my terms. His weapons…for you.”

I laughed until my eyes watered, though it might’ve been from the pain.

“Keep dreaming about your hero.” He kicked one of the chair legs, the impact violent enough to send me crashing sideways onto the floor. “Won’t change how this ends.”

My cheek throbbed, hot and swollen, but I ignored the pain as I stared up at him. I memorized his face, his voice, the exact angle of that scar. If Tatum asked who had hurt me, I wanted to be able to tell him without hesitation.

Because he was coming. And when he did, this guy would learn exactly why they called him Edge.

The silence stretched heavily between us, broken only by the faint buzz of the overhead bulb. He prowled a short line in front of me, muttering under his breath, like he was already rehearsing how he’d gloat when Tatum gave him what he wanted.

Then it happened.

The sound of bodies hitting the ground. Low grunts of pain, followed by screams of agony. Then there was a soft bang, before the ground trembled.

He froze mid-step, head snapping toward the door. His sneer faltered for the first time since he’d entered.

“No,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “This can’t be happening.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my split lip. It hurt, but I welcomed the sting.

“Told you,” I whispered hoarsely. “He’s coming.”

His eyes cut back to me, fury flickering in them.

“Shut up.” He kicked the chair leg again, the wood biting into my calves. “He’s walking into his own grave.”

Chaos erupted in the building like a storm had blown through the walls. Wood shattering and voices shouting. A gunshot cracked, sharp and final. Another followed.

His hand went to the pistol at his waistband. He yanked it free, metal gleaming under the bulb’s yellow glow, and aimed it square at me.

“Guess I’ll give him a corpse instead of a bargaining chip,” he spat.

Terror clawed through me, but I didn’t look away. My heart thundered, every beat echoing in my ears, but I forced my chin high, meeting his gaze with all the defiance I had left. Even with a gun trained on me, I still had faith in Tatum’s ability to rescue me.

The door burst inward, the frame cracking under the impact.

Then Tatum was there—filling the doorway like a demon torn straight out of this guy’s nightmares…

and my dreams. His eyes glowed with a lethal gleam, green fire locked on the man with his gun aimed at me, his body coiled and dangerous.

Blood streaked his arms, his cut spattered like proof he’d fought his way to me.

Edge.

Staring up at him, I understood in a whole new way why they called him that. He looked like a man balanced on the knife’s edge between sanity and madness, one twitch away from cutting the world apart.

He was all mine, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.