Page 59 of Tortured Souls
Why can I hear someone talking again? I couldn’t have survived that, right? In a panic, I feel my arms are free from their restraints, and I waste no time. Even with the pain of a thousand knives stabbing against my chest, I swing my arms at whoever is talking beside me. I fight as hard as I can. I fight for me.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. I’m Saxon’s friend. We’re here to help you.” The screaming pain in my shoulder causes me to stop almost immediately. I groan as I go to clench the joint where the pain is radiating from.
“It’s dislocated. You need to stay still.” Who is this guy? My throat feels as though I swallowed razor blades, probably from the screaming. But I need to ask.
“W-who are you?” My voice is small and hoarse, but I know he understands.
“We’re members of the Kings. We’re here to help you. Saxon is here.” The overwhelming sensation that he came for me, even when I told him not to, hits me straight in my chest. He came forme. I can’t hold it in. I burst into sobs as I cover my mouth with my hand. He really came for me. He risked his safety and the safety of those he loves to come and save me. I need to see him. Right now. I try to sit up, but it’s useless. I have no energy; the pain is suffocating me like a straitjacket that’s holding me down.
“Don’t get up. I need to fix you up some more.” I blink my eyes for what feels like a million times, trying to regain my focus and wipe away the haze obscuring my vision. When I’m finally able to see, I freeze when I catch a glimpse of my body. I’m stripped of my clothes. Only a small towel covers my breasts while a towel is draped over my pelvis. I panic. What is he doing? Why am I naked?He must see I’m about to shatter because he places his hand on mine before talking.
“Listen, darling. You’re beat up pretty bad. I’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but we need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His voice is soothing. He sounds like Mack, reassuring me with his deep voice.
“Why am I?—”
He cuts me off. “You’ve been through a lot tonight, Sky. They’ve done some terrible things to you, and I can’t imagine apologizing for what they did will make it all go away. I will patch you up the best I can, but we’re taking you to the hospital the moment we can.” I know what he’s talking about. I remember. I can’t say anything else. The awareness of the state I’m currently in holds me hostage.
Have you ever cried so hard, but it was silent, and the only indicator you were even crying was the tears running down your face? This is me. Tear after tear slides down the side of my temples, collecting in my ears as this man continues to clean my wounds. I’m not shaking or trembling. No noise is coming from my mouth, only the many tears falling from the corners of my eyes as I lie motionless.
“You’ll never have to face this world alone again, sweetheart. Do you hear me? You’re one of us now, and we take care of our Queens. Your pain is our pain, and you won’t ever have to heal on our own. Tell me you understand.” My eyes drift from the ceiling to the man beside me. This huge, gruff, and uniquely beautiful man beside me. His beard is so long it hangs past his neck, but he’s bald. Tattoos cover his entire scalp. An angry scar pulls his lip into a permanent grin from the corner, and one of his eyes is cloudy white. Looking at him, you might not see his beauty, but the way he just spoke makes me feel safe in his presence. It makes me feel worthy of living for maybe one more day.
“What’s your name?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“Heath.” I pause a moment, saying his name in my head a couple times. It doesn’t suit him. A big burly man who looks like he should be named Digger or Axe—something strong. Instead, he’s named after chocolate. Sweet chocolate.
“Heath bars are my favorite candy bars.” I chuckle to myself. The other corner of his mouth pulls into a smile as he tapes another bandage on my neck.
“We’ve got the parents. Heath? Trip? What room are you in?” I can’t tell whose voice is speaking through the communication device that’s strapped around Heath’s neck, but the wordparentshas me tensing my muscles. My ribs scream at me for the strain, and I slam my eyes shut until the pain begins to subside.
I’m focusing so hard on the pain, I don’t hear the reply from Heath, or that there was another man in the room all this time. The pounding of boots against the floor has me opening my eyes and turning my head to the door. The moment he comes into view, my whole body relaxes. As if my adrenaline was completely sucked from my body all at once. He’s here. He came for me. He saved me.
“Tesoro.” One word and I’m crying once again. Or maybe I never stopped.
SAXON
One thing I’ve learned about people with a lot of money is they love having secret rooms in their homes. Kind of like my sister’s secret room in her library where she keeps all her rarest books. Or the room in my office behind the haunting image of The Execution of Lady Jane. It leads to a secret corridor leading out of the house. Being a part of this world, you need to be prepared for chaos at all times. That’s why when I enter what looked to be the library, something immediately stands out. It is too obvious, if you ask me.
The corner of the large area rug is flipped up just a bit. The bookcase that sits perpendicular to the rug has items adorning the shelves that have been left askew. A bust fell over. A few books lie flat when they once stood up straight. A plant that must have been sitting on a shelf at one point is now broken on the hardwood floor. If that wasn’t enough of an indicator, there is a literal scrape in the shape of a half-moon that’s dug into the hardwood where the bookshelf would swing open and closed.
“Fucking amateurs.” Finn laughs and walks over to the bookshelf, raising his AR-15, getting ready to unload a whole clip into the bookshelf.
“Hold up.” Lifting my hand, I stop him. He rolls his eyes and goes to grip the bookshelf, while me and Saint stand in front, guns at the ready.
“Open it.” Swinging the bookshelf open, we are met with a terrified shriek from none other than Sky’s mother, her hands covering her face. And the coward himself, Sergio, standing behind his wife, using her as a shield. Fucking pathetic.
“Who’s this asshole?” Saint asks. He’s pointing his gun at a man I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt. He’s not cowering though, not even when five guns are pointed at him. Standing tall, he places his hands in his pockets, completely unbothered by his situation. Which pisses me off even more. I look him over. There are blood splatters littered across his shirt, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess whose blood it belongs to.
“Pl-please don’t hurt us,” Sylvia wails, her whole body trembling. Saint and Finn each grab Sergio and Sylvia while I grab our mystery man who was deemed special enough to be protected in the secret room, or should I say, not so secret room.
“What’s your name?” I grab his collar and yank him out of the small room, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gives me a shit-eating grin. With the butt of my gun, I smack him on the back of his head. His arrogance needs to be taken down a notch.
“No! No, please don’t hurt my son.” My head snaps to Sylvia. Did she just say son? As in the son that was supposedly killed years ago? The brother Sky has been mourning since that fateful day?Thatson?
“Seven?” I ask. Still, the guy says nothing. His grin is no longer on his face, his brows furrowed together from the pain of my hit.
“I don’t have time for a game of Guess Who. Take them to the van. We’ll bring them toourbasement.” If this man is involved in hurting Sky, which by the looks of his shirt, he is, he’ll be coming with us. Owen, Brooks, and Finn, along with Mich, Law, and Enzo, who’ve joined us in the library as well, grab the three of them.
“Try and run, please. I’d love to put a bullet in the back of any of your heads.” Brooks pushes Sylvia’s so-called son out the door.