Page 9 of Unhinged

CHAPTER SIX

brYDGETT

Fuck, my head hurts. The pounding in my skull is relentless, each throb feeling like a hammer driving into my brain.

I try to move, instinctively wanting to reach up and cradle the back of my head, but my wrists don’t budge.

My arms are bound behind my back around this chair with what feels like rope.

Forcing my eyes open, I take in my surroundings.

The room around me is dim, with only the barest amount of light shining in through a window. It’s dank, the air thick with the smell of decay and dampness, as if this basement-like space hasn’t seen daylight in years. I’m in a metal chair, my ankles are bound to the front legs.

What the hell?

Then everything comes rushing back to me like a slap to the face. The sound of Judge’s frightened cry, the force of the blow that sent me crashing into darkness, and the desperate realization that I couldn’t protect my son.

Judge. Where the hell is my son?

“Hey, you alpha bastards, where the fuck is my kid?!” I scream, letting them know I’m awake.

If there is even one hair out of place on his sweet little head, I will call in every favor owed to me and destroy this fucking club.

They might rule the streets here in Hopewell, but they don’t know who they’re messing with.

I will burn this entire place to the ground and salt the earth beneath it.

The door creaks open with agonizing slowness, and the three fuckheads saunter in, their expressions smug, predatory.

The one in the middle, Gears—they call him, but in my mind, he’s just another bastard—smirks down at me.

“Nice to see you’re finally awake,” he drawls, settling into a chair across from me as the other two flank him.

“Where is my son?” I demand, every word laced with a threat. My pulse pounds in my ears as fury flows through me.

“He’s fine,” Bastard chuckles, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Kind of a shithead, but he’s upstairs in one piece.”

I narrow my eyes at the bastard in front of me. “If you’ve hurt him in any way, I swear on my life?—”

“We don’t fuck with kids, woman,” he interrupts, waving a dismissive hand. “Usually don’t fuck with women either, but we’ve made an exception for you. Since you lied to us. We have you on video pulling something from Kenny’s bushes. So we know you weren’t there just fucking some creepy alpha.”

I plaster on a devious smile. “Sue me, I dropped something. Is that a crime?”

“Cut the bullshit,” he snaps. “Kenny was killed the same way as all the other Alpha Slayer victims, minus the playing card. We want to know who he is. He’s messing with people we needed answers from, so now he’s our business. Tell us where we can find him, and you and your kid are free to go.”

My lips curl into a sneer, the bitter taste of defiance flooding my mouth. “Go fuck yourself,” I spit, the words drenched in venom.

The third, who I haven’t caught a name for yet, advances on me. He must be the muscle, the one they send in to do the dirty work. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he rips my head back to look up at him.

“Come again?” he growls, a low rumble that vibrates through my bones.

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.” I repeat, each word precise, deliberate. They dared to touch my son, to knock me out in front of him and drag us both into this hellhole. They want information? They’ll have to rip it from my cold, dead hands.

The alpha’s face twists with anger, and he raises his hand, slapping me hard enough that the world spins for a moment.

Pain explodes across my cheek, the force of the blow sending my head snapping to the side.

A coppery tang fills my mouth, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.

“You hit like a bitch,” I taunt, working my jaw to ease the sting. The taste of blood only sharpens my resolve. They think they can break me? They have no idea what I’ve been through.

His eyes darken with fury, but before he can strike again, Bastard waves him off.

“Maybe some more time in the dark, alone, will help you see reason. I’d hate to keep you away from your kid longer than necessary, but you have the answers I want.”

I swallow hard, fighting the rising tide of panic. Judge is upstairs, alone, surrounded by these monsters. My instincts scream at me to fight. Defend. Protect. I need to keep it together, find a way out. But first, I need to buy time, to understand what they’re really after.

“Why do you want to know?” I ask. “The Alpha Slayer killed Kenny, but you said it yourself he was scum. So why is finding the killer so important?”

Bastard leans back in his chair, considering me with a cold, calculating gaze.

“Because Kenny was dealing heroin and meth. Both aren’t allowed in Hopewell, and we wanted to bring Kenny here and have a little chat with him about why he decided to break our rules and find out who was getting him the shit.

Your buddy took that from us, and he’s not the first kill he took from us either.

So we need to have a conversation with your murderous friend. ”

My heart sinks as the pieces start to fall into place. This isn’t just about revenge or justice—they’re protecting their empire, their territory. And I’ve unwittingly thrown a wrench into their plans.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him. “But just know that if you lay one finger on my boy, then all bets are off and when I get out of here, I’ll fucking castrate you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bastard says.

They turn on their heels and head for the door, their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The sound of the basement door slamming shut leaves me in a sudden, heavy silence.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

My mind races, trying to piece together a plan.

They have no clue I’m the Alpha Slayer, which is both a blessing and a curse.

If they knew, they’d kill me on the spot.

But without a scapegoat to hand over, I’m running out of options.

They’re too stupid to realize a woman could be their elusive killer, and that ignorance might be my only advantage.

If it were just me, I’d let them do their worst. I can handle pain; I’ve been through hell and back more times than I can count.

But Judge…he needs me. If I don’t get out of here, he’ll end up in the system, lost and alone, maybe even back with Earl and Tina.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

I glance around the room, taking in every detail. The tools on the bench, likely intended for torture, the single door they used to come and go, and the small window to my right. It’s barely large enough to crawl through, but if I can free myself, it might be my only shot.

It’s dark outside—that’s good. Darkness means cover, a chance to slip away unnoticed. But it also means I’ve been out cold for hours, maybe a full day. My blockers are wearing off, and if I don’t get them soon, my secret will be out. I can’t afford that. Not now, not when everything is on the line.

My wrists ache from the rough ropes binding them behind my back, and my legs feel like lead, stiff and swollen from being tied down. My head throbs where they struck me earlier, and the metallic taste of blood still lingers in my mouth.

Eventually, the door creaks open again, the dim light spilling into the room as the same three bastards walk in—Bastard, Arrow, and the bitch. They don’t say a word, just stand there, looking at me with varying degrees of irritation and impatience.

Bastard steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at me.

“Thought you might’ve had some time to think things over,” he says, calm on the surface. “You ready to talk now?”

I raise my head, meeting his gaze with a defiant glare. “Fuck off,” I hiss.

I won’t give them what they want. They can beat me, break me, but I’ll never betray who I am.

Gears narrows his eyes, then glances over at the bitch.

“Acid,” he says quietly. “Do your thing.”

Acid doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, looming over me like a predator eyeing its prey.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, but I’m gonna fix that,” he snarls.

He cocks his arm back, and for a moment, time seems to slow.

I can see the muscles in his arm tense, the malicious gleam in his eye, and then the punch lands squarely on my jaw.

The force of the blow is brutal, snapping my head to the side and sending stars exploding across my vision.

I bite down hard on my tongue, tasting blood, and blink rapidly to clear the tears blurring my vision.

I won’t break. I can’t.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Gears taunts. “Just tell us what we want to know, and this can all stop. You can go back to your kid, pretend like none of this ever happened.”

I lift my head, my vision swimming, and meet his gaze with what little strength I have left. “Fuck you,” I whisper, the words barely audible through the blood and pain.

Acid’s eyes darken with fury, and he raises his fist again, ready to deliver another brutal blow. But before he can, Arrow finally steps forward, grabbing Acid’s arm mid-swing.

“That’s enough,” Arrow says, tense, almost shaky.

Gears glares at him, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “The hell, man? We’re not done here.”

Arrow doesn’t back down. He’s watching me, and for the first time, I see something in his eyes that I didn’t expect—hesitation, maybe even guilt.

“You’re gonna kill her,” he mutters. “She’s not gonna talk if she’s dead.”

The two of them lock eyes, a silent battle of wills playing out between them. Arrow doesn’t flinch, and after a tense moment, Acid lets out a low growl and steps back.

Acid, who’s been silently observing this exchange, sighs.

“Fine,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s talk.”

They huddle together in the corner, their voices low and hushed.

I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the tension in the room is thick, almost suffocating.

Acid’s still fuming, his hands flexing as if he’s itching to resume the beating, while Arrow’s expression is unreadable, though he keeps glancing at me with that same conflicted look.

Gears, as always, remains calm, collected—calculating.

The argument doesn’t last long. Acid storms out first, his boots thudding heavily on the stairs as he leaves, followed closely by Arrow, who throws one last uneasy look over his shoulder at me.

Gears lingers for a moment, turning back to face me. He takes a step closer, his face inches from mine, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something other than cold detachment in his eyes—something darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not gonna use your boy against you, Beta,” he murmurs, the chill in his words unmistakable. “But don’t make me tell him his momma is dead.”

With that, he turns and strides toward the door, his footsteps echoing ominously in the small room. He pauses just long enough to flip the light switch, plunging the room back into total darkness. The door slams shut, the lock clicking into place, and I’m alone again.

“Fuck you!” I scream, the words ripping from my throat. “You fucking fuck!”

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can’t afford to break now. Not when everything is at stake. But deep down in the pit of my stomach, doubt festers, gnawing away at my resolve.

How the hell am I going to get out of this?