Page 2

He shakes his head, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Your friend, Cassidy, I believe she said her name is, is getting medical attention from one of the guys due to those…idiots dropping her on her head.” The male who calls himself Haze shuffles slightly to the side to show my brown-haired cell neighbor, barely conscious.

Her eyes stare at the man working on the blood gushing from a wound in her skull, and that’s the moment I realize it’s not going to be them.

It will be me.

Turning the gun to myself, I press the tip to my temple. The milling seems to halt as sharp breaths are sucked in. My brain finally gives me a reprieve from the racing thoughts.

Well, besides ruminating over how cold the metal tip is.

“Cassidy said her friend’s name is Irene,” the guy treating my cell neighbor says quietly, glancing up at me from his position next to her.

Haze nods without removing his gaze from my face.

“Irene, I brought someone with us in case you needed some support, and to show you that we aren’t the guys your brain thinks we are.

” I open my mouth to cut him off, but he continues first. “My wife, Ulia, is in the dock. She’s waiting for you girls to meet her outside where she has fresh clothes, warm blankets, and plenty of food.

” My stomach threatens to growl at the man for mentioning our lack of rations.

“How do I know this isn’t a stunt? A mockery to get us all to follow you willingly?” I ask, my voice suddenly wavering at the end.

“Would you like her to come in and meet you? I usually don’t like to have her come into places where there are active weapons, but…

” his eyes don’t move from my head and what he must be assessing as an active threat.

I hold tighter on the gun, my finger squeezing slightly to show him that I’m not moving from my position. He nods in resolution.

“I’m going to shout. So if you could remove your finger from the trigger for a moment, that would make me a bit more comfortable in showing you that we are serious.

” Glancing around at the men surrounding me, I hesitate.

He must catch it because he orders them all to back up a few steps.

There still isn’t enough space between me and them, but I slowly take my finger off the trigger.

He lets out a short-lived sigh as I place my nail at the front of the trigger bay.

I won’t push it from being startled yet none of them can try anything.

If anyone of them charges me, I’m done.

“Ulia!” Haze shouts, his eyes never leaving mine.

I can’t help the wince from the loudness.

The sound of heels clicks through the tunnel with another man following her, and my brain shuts off.

It’s fairly dim back here, but I see short, white-haired women dressed in small heels, dress pants, and a blouse.

“Oh, dear,” she sighs, her voice sad with a mix of confusion. “You called?” She tilts her head toward me like she can’t get a read on me, her eyes sparkling with interest and something else…

“This is Irene,” Haze says with his hands still raised. Ulia nods, a small smile warming her lips. “She is having a hard time understanding our mission here today. I figured if she were to meet you, it might help her come to terms with it…”

Ulia just smiles at me, her green eyes lighting up the room like fresh-cut grass on a gloomy day.

“That makes sense,” she says, her eyes flitting over the men around us.

“Well, I’m Ulia, but most people call me Uli.

Is there a nickname or anything that I can call you while we talk?

” Before I can open my mouth, she is striding a bit closer.

I take several steps back, my back pasting against the wall as I jerk my finger back on the trigger.

She takes the hint, stopping where she is before dropping to the dirty floor.

Criss-cross applesauce style, she folds her hands in her lap and waits.

Confusion pings around my brain at what she’s doing, but Haze seems to know.

“No,” I snap, the terror inside of me rising back up. My lungs expand, and air struggles to flow into my body.

“Hmm, alright. Can we talk?” I shake my head, clouds of darkness threatening to take over my vision. “Then I will talk to you, no worries!” There’s a chipperness to her tone that has my nerves out of whack. We are in a fucking dungeon, and she’s acting like we are at the park…

“I am fifty-three, and that’s my husband, Haze. We have been married for about thirty years, give or take. Ol’ Lady title for thirty-two of those years.”

Curiosity happens to get the better of my filter. “What’s an Ol’ Lady?”

She smiles warmly. “It’s a title that is used for the significant other of men in motorcycle clubs.”

“Like he owns you?” I scoff, shaking my head at the absurdity.

“No way,” she snorts, followed by a crackle.

“More like I own him. There are some archaic rules that prevent women to join the club. Which I will admit I’m perfectly okay with because driving a motorcycle scares me.

Anywho, he can own my soul as long as I have his, just like marriage.

Nothing changes except that we live in a clubhouse.

We decided that we didn’t want children, which works perfectly for all the little rascals these other men have hootin’ around!

” She pats her pockets for a moment and then frowns.

“I wish I had my phone so I could show you! A brother from another chapter just had his baby and the cheeks !”

Swallowing thickly, I have no idea what is happening. She keeps talking as we continue this little standoff, none of us moving as she chats away.

Before I know it, the gun seems to get lower and lower before it clatters to the ground with my grip letting it loose on accident.

As if that was the cue, men dive for it at the same time I do. I don’t want to hurt that sweet lady…

“Now!” A sharp sting lands on the back of my neck. I’m barely able to get my hand up and around the thing to pull the dart out before my vision goes black.