Page 54 of Unhinged

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

brYDGETT

It’s real.

My boots crunch on gravel, and my heart's hammering so loud I barely hear the door slam behind me. The air's thick with oil, hot engines... and something else. Something rotten. Like sickness and blood and bad memories.

I see better the closer I get.

Dillon’s got herself half in front of Judge, arms spread wide, chin up like she’s daring them to move.

Three men. Big. Mean-looking.

And one in front, standing cocky as hell like he owns the goddamn world.

Earl.

My gut twists hard enough I wanna throw up.

Old scent memories slam into me: grass and cooking oil—memories I’ve tried to keep buried deep where they couldn't rot me from the inside out.

"What do you want?" I snap, my voice sharp as broken glass. "Why won't you just leave me the fuck alone? I'm not some young omega anymore. I'm grown. I want nothing to do with you, Earl."

He smirks. That same sick, slimy grin.

"You're mine, Brydgett," he says, all casual. "Picked you out special. Waited for your first heat."

My skin crawls. Not with fear. With rage.

"You're fucking sick," I hiss.

He laughs, all low and dirty. "I wanted kids. And a sexy little omega to give them to me. You already proved you can. Now it's time to come home. Both of you." He jerks his chin at one of his guys. "Take the boy. Kill the girl unless you want a turn first."

One of the men steps forward, licking his lips.

"No!" I scream, voice cracking. Omega instincts roar up in me like wildfire: protectprotectprotect.

"He's not yours!" I yell, body shaking from the force of it. "I left after you raped me and traded my body for rent! He belongs to someone else!"

Earl’s eyes gleam maliciously in the dark.

"Who?" he demands. "Give me a name."

I rack my brain, fast. Need someone he can’t touch.

"Ike," I blurt. "Ike. He found me. Took me in at the gym. Let me stay if I... if I slept with him."

Earl wrinkles his nose, like I’m the dirty one.

"The fighter washout?" he sneers.

"Yeah," I lie right to his face. "It was his weekend with his son. That’s why we were out there. That’s when you found us, ran us off the road, shot me."

He stares hard, like he’s trying to peel my skin off with his eyes. Finally, he shrugs.

"Fine. Kill them both," he says to his men. "We’ll make another." He breathes deep through his nose, nostrils flaring. "You smell just like you did that night. Your heat’s coming, omega. Gonna be real fun breaking you in again."

Bile climbs up my throat.

I choke it down.

My scent spikes—fear, sharp and sour—but I force it back, clamp it down with every shred of will I have left. I can’t let him smell it.

I square up, heart hammering so loud I can’t hear straight. Every omega instinct in me screaming to protect Judge. Protect Dillon.

"Leave them," I say. "I’ll come with you. No fight."

Earl tilts his head, grinning all slow. "And if I don't?"

I step closer, slow like I’m moving through barbed wire. Hands raised. Keeping my voice flat.

"I’ll kill a few of your men. Maybe you too. And the brothers inside?" I jerk my chin toward the clubhouse. "They’ll hear. They’ll come runnin'. You won't make it out alive."

He laughs, the sound slithering over my skin.

“How did you get past the guard, anyway?” I ask, wondering about Mayhem and hoping he’s okay. I don’t think I’d handle it if he was killed to get to me.

"Ivan knocked out the guard," he says. "He'll wake up… eventually."

My heart’s pounding harder. There’s still a chance if I play this right.

"What's it gonna be, Earl?" I grind out.

He grins wider. "Come over here. Then I'll let 'em go."

I breathe out slowly.

No choice.

Not if I want Dillon and Judge alive.

I flick a glance toward the clubhouse, hope burning a hole in my chest. God, I wish somebody could hear us. But the fucking bass is too loud, thudding like a war drum.

Nobody’s gonna hear a damn thing. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. If this place had outside only smoking, maybe somebody would have come out for a light. Maybe I could have planned for that.

Maybe someone would have seen. Maybe. I suck in a breath. Gotta move.

Gotta save my kid.

I step forward. Each step feels like dragging cement blocks. The second I'm close enough, Earl lunges, grabbing me roughly, yanking me hard into his chest. His stink, booze, rot and filth, wraps around me and I gotta fight not to gag.

Judge's voice cuts through the dark. "Mom!"

I twist, trying to smile through the panic. "Shh, baby," I say, voice shaking. "It’s okay. I’ll be okay."

Earl laughs, low and mean. "She won’t," he says, loud enough for Judge to hear. "But that’s her problem. Tell your daddy I'll be coming for him next."

"Fuck you!" Judge spits back, fire in every word.

Pride punches me square in the chest.

My boy. My fierce, brave boy.

Earl chuckles. "Little firecracker," he says. "You sure he ain’t mine?"

"I'm sure," I snarl.

He squeezes me tighter, ribs groaning. "You lie to me, Brydgett, and I'll come back for him. Burn this fucking place down."

"I'm not lying," I bite out.

He grins and nods at his guys. "Let 'em go. Girl, you keep that boy still. Count to one hundred before you move. We got a rifle on you. You twitch before then, you die. Got it?"

Dillon sneers like she's ready to murder him herself. "Got it."

"Good girl," Earl says mock-sweet.

I thrash, fighting to break loose.

Maybe if I can claw him.

Maybe if I can?—

Something hard slams into the back of my skull.

Pain rips through me, bright and sharp.

The world tilts sideways; the ground rushing up to meet me.

The last thing I hear before everything goes black is Judge screaming for me and Dillon cussing loud enough to wake the dead.

And then?—

Nothing.