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CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

THE COLD HAD settled into my bones.

I didn’t know how long I’d been here—hours, maybe longer. Time blurred in the darkness, marked only by the slow, steady ache in my body and the distant hum of the dockworkers outside.

The chair I was tied to dug into my back, my wrists raw from where the zip ties bit into my skin. My legs were bound too, ankles lashed tight to the metal legs. No room to move. No way out.

I forced my breath to stay even. Panic wouldn’t help me now.

Fang sat across from me, watching.

Just watching.

I didn’t flinch under his stare, but my skin crawled with every second that passed. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers tapping together like he was thinking through all the ways he was going to break me.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “That’s new.”

I didn’t answer.

A slow smirk curled his lips. “Nothin’ to say, love?”

I clenched my jaw. If I spoke, I’d snap.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Or are you finally realizin’ how this ends?”

I forced a smirk. “Yeah. You die, and I walk out of here.”

His laugh was soft, almost genuine. “I love that about you. The fight. The fire. But you’re burnin’ out, aren’t you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.

Fang leaned closer, his breath warm against my skin. Too close. “You’re mine, Lucy.” His voice was low, intimate in a way that made my stomach turn. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this gets.”

I kept my expression flat, cold. But inside, I was screaming.

He reached out, brushing a knuckle along my jaw, slow, deliberate.

I jerked away; teeth clenched.

Fang sighed, shaking his head like I was some difficult pet.

“Spinner won’t save you,” he said casually. “You know that, right?”

I went still.

Fang’s smirk deepened. “If he cared, he would’ve come for you already.”

I swallowed hard, keeping my breathing steady. He’s trying to get in your head. Don’t let him.

But it hurt.

Because what if he was right?

What if Spinner wasn’t coming?

“That club you ran to?” Fang continued. “They don’t want you. They never did. They let you go. Hell, maybe Spinner’s already moved on. Maybe he’s between another bitch’s legs right now, forgettin’ you ever existed.”

I wanted to kill him.

But I kept my face blank.

Fang chuckled, standing. “Don’t worry, love. You won’t have to wait long. Soon, you’ll see the truth.”

“You belong to me, Lucy,” he murmured, like he was saying it to himself as much as me. Like he thought if he said it enough, it would make it true.

I refused to look away. Refused to give him anything.

He smirked, reaching out, brushing a knuckle along my jaw. Slow. Lingering. Possessive.

I jerked away, my pulse hammering.

Fang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like we were a couple having a misunderstanding, instead of a woman who would rather die than let him win.

“Still fightin’.” His voice was almost fond. “Don’t you get it? That’s what I love about you, Lucy. You don’t break easy. Turns me the fuck on.”

Fang stood and pulled out a knife ready to cut the zip ties and my heart stopped—this was it, he was going to rape me. Then the sound of heavy boots against the concrete cut through the warehouse, echoing loud against the huge space.

Fang’s smirk disappeared.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Then—Drago stepped into view.

His presence was a slow-moving storm, controlled and deadly. Dressed in all black, his expression smug, his steps calm and deliberate.

“That’s enough,” Drago said, voice smooth, but full of ice.

Fang barely twitched, but something in his shoulders tightened.

“Just talkin’,” Fang said lazily, but his jaw was set tight.

Drago didn’t even glance at him. His eyes locked onto mine, assessing, calculating. He saw everything. My cuts, my bruised wrists, the exhaustion pulling at my body.

And he didn’t care. Not that I thought he would.

“She still won’t talk?” he asked Fang.

Fang let out a low, bitter laugh. “Nope.”

Drago stepped closer, slow, his boots clicking against the concrete. Measured. Like a man who always had control, who never needed to raise his voice to make people listen. Not when he could torture them.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Lucy,” he said.

I stayed silent.

His head tilted. “You think silence will save you?”

I smirked, my lips dry, cracked. “No. But it pisses you off, and that’s enough for now.”

Fang grinned at that, but Drago’s face didn’t change.

“You misunderstand, bitch,” Drago said. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. How much pain you want to go through before you give me what I want.”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let it show.

Fang leaned back in his chair, watching. Enjoying the show.

Drago crouched in front of me, his voice lowering like he was talking to a child.

“Where is Zeynep’s room in that clubhouse? How well guarded is she?”

I didn’t flinch. “Go to hell.”

Drago exhaled, slow, almost disappointed.

“You’re not afraid enough yet,” he murmured.

His hand shot out—fast—but not to hit me. Instead, he grabbed my chair and yanked.

Metal legs screeched against concrete, the sound sharp enough to rattle my teeth. He stopped when my face was a breath away from his.

“You will be.”

My throat tightened, breath coming quick and shallow, but I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Couldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Drago studied me, green eyes cold, dissecting. Like he was peeling me apart, piece by piece. Then—he smiled. Slow. Predatory.

“Fang,” he said, voice smooth as glass, gaze never leaving mine. “Tell me something.”

Fang’s grin was audible. “Yeah?”

“How long do you think she lasts?”

The air thickened, heavy, suffocating.

Fang let out a low chuckle. “She’s got fire. I’ll give her that. But... couple more days? Maybe less.”

Drago’s stare drilled into me, unblinking. “Hmm. I say sooner.”

My jaw clenched so hard it cracked. Pulse spiked, traitorous, burning under my skin.

Then he leaned in. Too close. His breath—warm—brushed my ear.

“Every time you fight me, Lucy…” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “I take something from you.”

The words slid under my skin like a blade. Cold. Slow. Deliberate.

I swallowed the fear clawing up my throat, but I dared him. “Go ahead and try.”

He pulled back, smirk still curling at the edges of his mouth, wicked and patient. Like he already knew how this would end.

“Oh, I won’t have to,” he said, standing. His gaze flicked toward Fang. “ He will.”

Fang grinned wide, and my stomach twisted into a knot of pure horror.

Drago didn’t offer another threat. Didn’t need to. He turned and walked away, steps echoing in the concrete box that reeked of rust and sweat.

The metal door slammed shut behind him, leaving me alone with Fang and his wicked grin.

The second it locked, Fang exhaled slow, his smirk turning into something darker.

“You heard him,” he said, voice full of something low and hungry. “Keep fightin’, and this gets worse. Remember last time? I sure as hell do, still gets my cock hard just thinkin’ about it.”

I sat perfectly still. Too afraid to move.

He took another step forward.

I clenched my fists, my wrists screaming against the zip ties.

Fang leaned down, his face too goddamn close.

“But we both know you like it rough, don’t you?”

I spit at him, teeth bared, wishing I could cut his fucking throat.

His hand shot out, fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my head back.

Pain exploded across my scalp, but I gritted my teeth, breathing hard through my nose.

“You keep that up,” Fang murmured, “and I might not be able to stop myself from fucking you before Drago starts his little show.”

His eyes burned, his fingers tightening. “You feel that?” His grip fisted in my hair, tilting my head so my throat was exposed and he ran his tongue over my skin. “That’s what it feels like to belong to me. I will own you.”

I was going to rip his throat out with my bare hands.

The only thing that kept me from screaming was knowing he wanted me to.

So I swallowed my fury, forcing my breath to steady. Refusing to give him what he wanted.

Fang let out a slow chuckle. “You’re just too fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered in my ear, shoving my head back.

He stood, stretching, completely unbothered. “Get comfortable, love. I’ll be back soon.”

He strolled toward the door, whistling a low, lazy tune.

I glared daggers into his back, my chest heaving. The door shut with a heavy clang. I was alone again.

For now.

I closed my eyes, swallowing back the rage, the fear.

They weren’t breaking me.

Not today.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, hope flickered. Because Spinner was out there.

And if I knew anything about that man, it was this—

He would burn this whole fucking place to the ground to get me back.