Page 24 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)

HARLOW

T he fuzzy static crackling behind my right eye distorts what little vision I have left.

My left eye throbs nonstop to an erratic rhythm.

Each pulse is a counterbeat to the relentless pounding in my skull.

I spit out the metallic blood coating my tongue and attempt to wriggle my fingers toward the bracelet hidden beneath my sleeve, but it’s useless.

Of course, it is. They made sure the zip tie was cinched so tightly it might as well be welded to my skin.

That was their first mistake. Fucking amateurs.

I take in what little I can from my position on the blood-stained concrete floor.

The drive from Macon’s hadn’t taken nearly as long as I expected.

He must still live in the city. It’s a wonder our paths don’t cross more often.

Then again, country clubs and bougie fundraisers aren't exactly my scene. That was more Lexi’s world when she was attached at the hip with Evan, the douche canoe.

The moment his lackeys dumped me in the center of the dining room and yanked the bag from my head, the first blow landed. Gone was the charismatic businessman. In his place stood the monster I’d glimpsed months ago, the one who only came out behind closed doors.

I knew what he was. I’d seen how he treated the women he lured in with syrupy compliments and feigned charm. The cruelest men wear the prettiest masks. How else would they entrap the unsuspecting?

But even when my lip split and my eye swelled shut, he didn’t get what he wanted. I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I didn’t fight.

I needed to bide my time because I was exactly where I needed to be. If that meant a few cracked ribs and a likely concussion, so be it. It would all be worth it when he didn’t see me coming.

Tucking my toes beneath me, I steady my weight, doing my best not to lose balance, and roll back onto the cold floor where I started.

With a sharp inhale, I engage my core and spring upward.

The world tilts violently, the room spinning in nauseating circles, and I slam back against the wall.

Pain detonates in my shoulder. A deep, aching throb that only adds to the unease swirling in my stomach.

Clearly, it’s the spot that absorbed most of the impact when I was thrown in here.

I press my forehead flat against the wall and give my equilibrium a moment to catch up, forcing myself to breathe through the dizziness.

When the floor finally stops rolling under me, I shift, raising my bound wrists.

My shoulder protests, white-hot pain searing down my arm as I stretch at an odd angle, but I grit my teeth and pull.

With a sharp snap, the plastic zip tie gives way. Blood immediately wells up from the torn skin on my wrists, but I barely register it. The sting equals freedom, and not just from the depths under this place.

Without any hesitation, my hand flies to the pin securing my bun.

With a steady flick, it slips free, and my hair spills down my back in a cascade.

But the real value lies in the steel hidden within.

I twist it gently, and the concealed blade slides out.

It’s no bigger than my middle finger but sharp enough to do the job.

Dropping to a crouch, I work quickly, slicing through the plastic restraint binding my ankles. The zip tie snaps in two just as the unmistakable sound of keys fumbling in the lock reaches my ears.

Shit .

I scoop up the broken plastic, tucking both pieces and my smallest blade behind my back as I ease down to my knees, feigning helplessness right as the door swings open.

“Finally, you’re back with us.”

The voice is oily and smug. A man I don’t recognize steps into my blurry view, but the look in his eyes is all too familiar. It’s that same predatory glint I’ve seen aimed at me since I was a young girl.

I shiver and inch away without drawing attention to just how unrestrained I actually am.

It only urges him closer. His excited footsteps echo in the small space until he’s standing before me, the stench of cigarettes wafting off his sweat-slick skin.

One of his meaty hands reaches down and cups my chin.

His palm feels like a waterlogged baseball mitt, clammy and rough.

“The boss’ll be ready for you once he’s done with his meeting,” he says, tilting my face up to his. “Could be a while, though. Looks like we’ve got time to get acquainted.”

He leans down over his bulging belly, breath foul and humid, and says in a menacing low growl, “But if you fucking bite me, I’ll strangle the light out of your eyes and beat your face into the wall until even your mother couldn’t recognize what’s left.”

How poetic.

I want to roll my eyes at the overdone macho bullshit, but that wouldn’t fit the performance I’m giving. I need him to believe the wide-eyed, I’m just a girl routine. Then he’ll underestimate me and make his next move.

When I let a single tear slip down my cheek, it’s all the permission he needs.

Reaching forward, he drags his thumb across my skin roughly, smearing the tear into oblivion.

Then his hands drop to his belt. The clink of the buckle makes my stomach twist with rage.

He yanks his pants just far enough to free himself, and his half-hard cock juts out, eyeing me pathetically like it’s my fault it’s not fully erect.

Sorry, chode. Not today.

With one hand braced on the wall behind me and the other gripping himself, he’s completely exposed. I make my move.

I roll to the side and spring to my feet in one fluid motion, launching myself onto his back. My knife flashes, then sinks deep into his neck. Again. And again. And again.

Hot blood splatters across the walls and floor as he staggers, choking on his own gurgled pleas, trying in vain to shake me off. But I cling on, like an infant on its mother’s back through the jungle. Only when his body crumples to the ground, twitching once before going still, do I let go.

I quickly free the gun from his holster, my fingers moving with urgency as I pat down his lifeless body for any additional weapons and, hopefully, keys. Luck’s on my side. I find what I need, curl my fingers around it, and pivot sharply on my heels.

It’s time to find the man I came here for.

The hallway is unnervingly silent. No voices from the others I know he had with him.

No footsteps from the staff he must keep.

Not even a creaking floorboard from above, just a hollow stillness that makes my skin crawl.

The hall only stretches in one direction, leading toward a faint glow spilling down a steep staircase at the far end. Convenient.

I double-check the magazine of the lifted gun and load the chamber. Then I’m on the move, walking calmly and deliberately, like I know exactly where I’m going, like I belong here.

At the top, the stairs spill into yet another hallway, this one opening into an empty foyer.

My pace slows. My footsteps echo off the high ceilings with eerie clarity.

The space is stripped bare, the walls are faded and cracked, and the paint curls away like it doesn’t want to be here either.

A thick film of grime coats the windows, turning what I hope is still daylight into something gray and unnerving.

Just five paces away, the front door looms. It’s probably unmanned outside; I can see it’s unlocked from here. Freedom waits on the other side. I could run, slip away, and disappear. But that would only delay the inevitable.

This ends here. And it ends now.

I don’t want to wander this place aimlessly, like a lost kid in the Robinsons’ corn maze on the edge of town, but the truth is, I have no damn clue where he is.

What kind of compound doesn’t have guards patrolling the grounds? You’d think someone might be keeping an eye out to, I don’t know, make sure the kidnapped, should-have-been bride doesn’t just sneak off?

That’s when I hear it. It’s faint, so faint I have to strain past the pounding in my skull just to be sure I don’t need to add hearing things to my list of injuries.

The headache has evolved into a full-blown migraine, the kind that screams concussion, especially with the nausea holding firm.

But beneath it all, I catch the distant hum of a voice.

A man speaking somewhere above, drifting down from the top of the winding staircase.

Finally. A sign of life. I’m drawn toward it, compelled like the tide chasing the moon.

This is where the party is.

Two men flank a massive door at the end of the hall, standing guard. I don’t need confirmation to know that behind it waits the man I’m looking for. If these two are stationed here and not outside, they’re not going to abandon their post without a damn good reason.

The landing is bare, just like the rest of the house. I bolt across the hall to the opposite side, crouch low, and quickly unlace my boots, tugging them free.

“You’ll have to do,” I whisper, then hurl them over the railing with everything I’ve got.

They land below with a pathetic thud. Barely more than a creak, sounding like the house settling from age, but it’s enough. The guards snap to attention, eyes drawn to the noise, and take off down the stairs without hesitation.

Bingo.

I slide in behind their exit, quietly slipping toward the door like a shadow. I knock once softly to gauge the reaction on the other side and listen.

No response, but then the door cracks open. A bulky man peers out, confusion flickering across his face, just in time for the barrel of my gun to greet his chin.

The shot explodes, ripping up through his skull, while back splatter and gunk rains across my skin. The echo of the gunshot steals the oxygen from my lungs as the blinding pain in my head intensifies. Then everything goes still. Clear.

And just like that, all hell breaks loose.