by Grace, Hazel
Taking a step, my head is jerked back followed by a cloth over my mouth. A foul odor fills my lungs, and before I can even muster a thought or an action, I see black.
___
Squeaky metal. Muffled rock music and the smell of fresh carpet, I open my eyes to a darkness. My body shuffles as the prison I’m contained in hits something. My hands are bound behind my back and terror rips through me.
Jerry.
He did exactly what he always does, waits for the best moment to swoop in and strikes. There is no denying that I’m in a trunk of a car, being tossed around at every bump in the road, and I swear the asshole driving is hitting every single one of them. Tugging at my restraints, they are lock tight, which I’m not surprised. My mind rushes through questions that I don’t have the answers to.
How long have I been out?
Are we out of Delpa County?
Where is my phone?
We all know the answer to that one. It’s probably still on the floor of Paige’s house, trampled on.
Or even worse, Jerry will take it and read through everything and hunt down Wyatt. And God knows what he’s capable of doing now, five years after I hit him with that baseball bat. I can only imagine the anger.
The vehicle stops suddenly, slamming my head into a wall, as I hear the opening and closing of the car doors. My heart takes off in a rapid race, and I find my body start to tremble. I need to keep my nerves together and to think clearly because I’m in the fight for my life. And there won't be a second chance this time.
The trunk opens, followed by two shadowy figures illuminated by light. A hand reaches for me and yanks me up, pulling me from the trunk.
“Let’s go,” he ushers, heaving me over the car by my arm. Using my feet, I push off the flooring so that dickhead doesn’t rip my arm out of my socket. And once one of my legs are over the clearing of the trunk, I swing my second at the other man’s head.
All I hear is a cuss word, a sharp breath, and I’m wrenching myself from the man holding my arm and start to run. Without my arms being able to move, it’s hard to keep from tumbling, but instead of that, I’m tackled to the ground.
“You fucking bitch,” one of them roars in my ear. His weight knocks the breath out of me, and when he heaves himself off of me, I’m taken with him. “Do it again, and I’m smacking the shit out of you.”
Leading me back to the short distance to the car, my shorter captor is rubbing the side of his head. And when I reach the trunk again, he backhands me, sending a shooting pain through my head.
“There is more where that came from,” he voices. Biting my tongue to keep the tears back, I focus on him. Medium build, five-foot-seven, ugly as shit with curly blonde hair and a lumpy nose, I raise my chin. “He’s going to love breaking you, sweetheart.”
I clench my jaw because I know what he is saying is so beyond true. “So, you’re Jerry’s bitch then?”
I’m met again with his hand.
“I’m no one’s bitch, darling. I’m just the one taking you to meet your long-awaited fate.”
I blow a piece of hair out of my face. “Whatever he paid you, I can double it.”
“You don’t have a pot to piss in,” he retorts, pulling a bag of zip ties from the trunk. The idea of being restrained sends a frenzy through me. Taking a step back, I bump into my other captor still holding onto my arms from behind.
“We don’t have time for this shit, do you have to take a piss or not,” the man holding me asks. I shake my head, and he leads me back to the trunk.
I dig my heels into the dirt, noticing we aren’t in the city yet. “Hold on. I can get you whatever you want.”
“Sure, you can,” the man guiding me inside the trunk jeers.
I try to turn around to face him, but he lifts me in the air and tosses me back into the trunk. “Please, you can’t take me there.”
And instead of showing me any compassion, he slams the trunk over my head.
___
When we reach our destination, I’m blindfolded and steered inside a building. I hear other muffled voices, male I think, which doesn’t help the ideas awaiting for me. I keep thinking of Paige, my only fucking hope right now, to notice that I’m missing. But when the trunk opened, it was still dark, telling me it was still early morning and she’d still be sleeping.
One of the men guides me down some stairs, and I feel cold air cuff around my skin with the musty smell of a basement. The thought of dying down here hits me. Or worse, Jerry keeping me alive to assault me for years upon years without anyone finding me. I should have been more careful, I was too confident that I could take Jerry on. The baseball bat incident made my head bigger apparently, and I was wrong.
So fucking wrong, and I was going to pay for it.
My body is shoved into a small chair and my forearms are tied tightly to the chair. I try to breathe, but my body can’t perform that action right now. I can’t function, trying to plan my next move but hopelessness from being tied to this chair holds me back. I’ll have to wiggle my arms out of these restraints for days.
“Have fun, sweetheart,” my captor says to me. I don’t know which one, they both sound the same to me. I don’t respond, just hear his footsteps go back up the squeaky steps.
Expecting to be here for a while, I try to settle into my chair, taking advantage of the time to plot something out. That is until I hear a disguised voice bellow from a speaker of some sort.
“Welcome to the party.”
Fear can do funny things to a person. It can paralyze you with horror or brawl with the situation. I’m feeling a little bit of both right now, especially after the cryptic voice barreling through the room. And not being able to see sets a whole new level of creepy.
“Let’s start with your name.”
“You kidnapped me and didn’t know my name?” I snap, refusing to play this fucked-up mind game.
Why Jerry is hiding behind a voice is beyond me. Probably to slither through my wrecked nerves and mess with them a little more.
“Just need to hear you say it,” the voice claims.
“It’s fuck you.” The voice chuckles. “Why don’t you stop acting like a pussy and remove the blindfold from me.”
“And why the fuck would I do you any favors after what you did to me?”
I clench my teeth together. “You already know I’m not playing these fucked-up games. So, let’s get on with this.”
“You aren’t in the position to make demands, bitch,” the voice rasps. “We’re going to get a few things figured out.”
“And we’ll do them when you’re standing in front of me like a fucking man.” The voice goes silent, and I know I won.
When I’d question Jerry being a man at all, he’d have to show me up. He had too much pride, and I remember the many bruises and a black eye when I challenged it.
Fingers graze my face, which startles me, because I didn’t hear anyone approach me or come down the stairs, and the blindfold is ripped from my face.
“Turn the lights on,” the voice in front of me bellows. I strain to hear it again in my head, to link it to Jerry and glower at him. But when the lights turn on and my eyes adjust, my heart drops into my stomach and nausea sets in.
I blink.
And blink again.
My eyes can’t tear away from the man standing in front of me. A man that not only haunted my dreams but had changed my life forever.
And that man wasn’t Jerry.
It was Wyatt.
___
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Wyatt snaps. I don’t know if he’s speaking to me or to someone else that can hear him but all I feel is relief mixed in with confusion.
“Wyatt,” I say out loud, feeling my body relax just confirming to myself that it’s not Jerry. That I’m safe. That I’m not going to fucking die down here.
Wyatt turns around toward a window that is smoked solid black and bellows at it. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“It’s Vic
toria Yunis,” a male voice proclaims through the speaker.
Wyatt shakes his head repeatedly and places his fingers on his temples. “No. Something’s wrong here.”
“We tracked her. She was in Victoria’s home and lives in the apartment.”
“What apartment?”
“The one off Olive Street,” the voice advises.
“That’s my apartment,” I reply. “But I don’t know who Victoria is.” Wyatt slowly turns around to face me, his expression emotionless, which sends a chill up my spine.
“What’s your name?” he asks me calmly.
“Rora.”
He takes a step closer, leaning down so that our gazes are parallel. “You sure?”
I open my mouth about to reply ‘yes,’ but we all know that’s not entirely true. “Not exactly. Aurora is my middle name. Nova Parker is my birth name. I told you Rora because I wasn’t comfortable giving you my real name because of Jerry. I was scared.”
“You decided to keep your real fucking name from me after I fucked you well over a dozen times?” Wyatt growls between us.
“I honestly didn’t even think about it. Your calling me Rora just clicked with me after a while I guess.”
“You guess?” he repeats, straightening his back. He turns his back on me and starts to pace the floor.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Why am I here?”
“Who’s Victoria Yunis?” he says instead.
I shake my head. “I don’t know, I’ve never heard of her.”
“So how the fuck do I know you’re not Victoria Yunis?”
“I’ve never heard of that name before.”
He takes a deep breath. “Then why is your apartment in her name?”
“It shouldn’t be. My friend Paige put it in her name to keep Jerry from finding me.”
Wyatt steps away from me. “Your name is linked to Victoria and Lydia, tell me why.”
“Lydia O’Fallon?”
Wyatt halts and raises a brow. “So, you do know her?”
I ball my hands into fists. “I know her, she’s my fucking mother.” Wyatt recoils away further like he’s been struck. “Wyatt, what’s going on? Untie me so we can talk about all this. There has to be a misunderstanding.”
“I can’t be near you right now,” he murmurs, then turns on his heel.
“Wyatt!” I call out, pulling at my restraints. “Let me out of here!”
“You know this bitch?” Lev asks me as I open the door to the room behind the glass. Beast stands behind him with his arms crossed, bowing his head down. My stomach is in knots, and I can’t think straight.
Rora is tied up in Flynn’s basement, and she was the last fucking person I thought to see. I didn’t even recognize her voice with the amount of disgust she had in her tone. That and all the adrenaline coursing through me. But my heart stopped when Beast turned on the lights. The woman I was in love with was linked to my enemy.
Isla’s killer.
“Yeah, I know her,” I mumble, closing the door behind me.
“I know her too,” Beast concedes.
That gets my full fucking attention.
“How?”
Beast looks up at me. “I dated her for a little while.”
“The fuck,” Lev sighs, sitting back into an old leather chair.
I point at Beast. “You’re fucking Noah?”
“Yeah,” he confirms. “Don’t go by it obviously.”
I narrow my eyes, jealousy rushing through me that shouldn’t even be there at this point. And what point that is, I have no idea. “Did you fucking sleep with her?”
“Who the fuck cares?” Lev complains. “She just outed herself that she knows Lydia.”
I step deeper in the room. “Did you?”
Beast narrows his eyes at me. “Why does that even—” I lunge for him, my hand clasping around his throat as I ball up my hand to smash into his face. Lev is at my side in an instant, pulling me away.
“Are you fucking nuts?” Lev scolds me. “This bitch was in on killing our sister.”
“Prove it,” I repute, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “Because I don’t believe it.”
The air in this room feels thin, and I can’t get enough into my lungs. My gaze goes to the window where Rora is on the other side of it, yanking on her restraints, more than likely hurting herself in the process. I’m about to go back in there when Lev stops me.
“Then why is Isla’s photo in Nova’s apartment?”
“What?”
“Colt and Eli found it when they searched her apartment. It was the first place they went to snatch her up. It was in her closet, under a bunch of shit. Why does she have a picture of our fucking sister in her closet?”
I shake my head. “Who is this friend she is talking about?”
“I don’t give a fuck about her friend,” Lev snaps, glaring at me.
“I do,” I reply. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Maybe because your dick is speaking up for you, brother.”
I draw closer to him. “Watch your fucking mouth with me, Lev. I’ll pound your pretty little face in this cement wall.”
“Her friend’s name is Paige, I’ve seen her,” Beast sounds next to us. I don’t even get a chance to bitch at him for knowing because Lev closes the inches between us.
“You want more proof? I’m sure there’s more.” Lev points at the window. “But get your head out of your ass and remember there could be a possibility that this bitch is behind it.”
___
I can’t eat, but I can definitely drink. And that’s all I’ve been doing for the last ten hours since I’ve seen Rora/Nova—whatever the fuck you want to call her. Her beautiful body restrained in that shitty ass chair breathing in the mildew air, I can’t bring myself to look past what it is. I don’t see it in her, an evil monster that would kill an innocent. Unless her loyalty is so deep that even I can’t dig it up.
Beast or Noah, as I’ve been calling him since the revelation came about what his true fucking name was, has been researching the shit out of Paige and Nova. My girl has no records. No birth certificate. Nothing. Paige McKenney, however, was born in Ohio, two parents, the whole shit and caboodle.
Nothing links Paige to any of this other than, her and Nova allegedly went to high school together in Chicago. And the fact that we can’t find one fucking item on Nova, sends an untamed chill through my body. Lev might be right, that she’s a con of sweetness and innocence to hide the evil inside her. That’s why I’ve been trying to keep her away from my shit, she played me into hers. And I was knee deep and fucking in love with her.
Swallowing another shot of tequila, I welcome the burn. Did she purposely run into me in the stairwell? My head rails at ideas and strategies so much that I’m already on my way down the stairs to the basement. Flynn is on my tail, told by Lev to watch me so I don’t let her out.
Whipping around to face Flynn, I say, “Don’t let anyone else in here, even my fucking little cunt brother.” Flynn nods, and I throw the door open making my way down the steep steps.
The light is still on, Rora’s head bows into her chest, slowly inhaling and exhaling. A captive angel conceivably cloaked as a killer. This could be my karma with brown hair, a perfect ass, and lips that can make me come within minutes.
My own personal punishment for killing Andrew.
Her head slowly comes up as she groans, pulling at her ties and jumps at the sight me.
“Wyatt,” she crooks. “Are you letting me go?” It’s that voice, the harmless tone that locked me into this. The one that is so soft it could bring a man like me to his knees, sending fucking ‘I love you too’ text messages because I can’t get her words out of my head.
I shake my head. “No.”
“What is going on? Why am I here?”
“You killed my sister,” I choke out.
Rora just stares at me, for a moment before her eyes turning into small slits. “What did you…I’m not…” She tosses her h
ead back and forth furiously. “No, no. I didn’t kill anyone. I haven’t killed—” She glances at my tattoo on my arm for Isla. “You didn’t tell me she was killed.”
“Don’t need to,” I reply. “You seem to already know.”
Rora leans forward. “Me? You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
I set my jaw, wanting to punch something. “Oh, I wish I was, baby. Seems like I’ve been played like a fucking fool.”
“This has to be a fucking joke,” she mumbles to herself, eyes averted to the ground.
“My man can’t find anything on a fucking Jerry either.”
Her head shoots back up to me. “What are you talking about?”
I can’t move from the spot I’m standing in. It felt all real, the tears, the way her voice trembled at the remembrance of it all. My rational side said that something didn’t add up, and my heart told me to just believe her and figure this all out.
“I told you everything he did to me,” she stutters with her furrowed brows.
“Those are just words to me at this point.” I have to force the words to come out as my stomach twists. Pulling an abandon chair over, I sit in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
Rora sits back in her chair, disbelief scattered all over her face. “I already did.”
“I want the fucking truth, Rora,” I growl. Raking my hands through my hair, to gain some composure, I lean forward, elbow to knee. “My brother wants to fucking kill you.” Her mouth widens but no words come out. She continues to gape at me like I’m a man with three heads.
“I need you to tell me what is going on and who you are,” I instruct.
“Kill me?” she repeats instead. “What are you the fucking mafia?” She tugs her legs under her chair and shoves her chair backward. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t change the subject,” I command, reaching for her chair and pulling her closer to me. I need her near me, even if she isn’t who I think she is. I’ve fallen so deep in with this woman that I can’t see straight without her right now. Even if she could be who Lev thinks she is.