Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

by Dannika Dark

  Jericho rubbed his shoulder and scoped out the property. There weren’t any signs of security cameras or sensor lights, and Tweety didn’t have drapes on his back windows. Jericho could see all the way inside the house, so he stood against the wall and peered in. The doorbell chimed, but no sign of movement.

  Jericho took one of the thin cushions off the chair and held it against the glass door below the knob. He kicked it once as hard as he could—shattering the glass—but the sound was muffled by the cushion. After pulling a loose shard away to prevent it from falling, he reached in to unlock the door.

  Glass sliced into his arm. His fingers found the lock, and he twisted it to the left, slowly opening the door. Jericho kept his eyes alert and his fists clenched. His restless wolf paced, snarling and thirsty for a hunt.

  Hawk lived in a one-story house with a grand-fucking-piano and a fireplace. Tweety’s fingers were too fat for playing the piano, and Isabelle didn’t have a musical bone in her body. As he looked around at the expensive paintings and sculptures, Jericho came to the conclusion that Hawk was a collector.

  He wrinkled his nose at the décor. It looked like a box of SweeTarts had exploded in there.

  Jericho whirled around when glass crunched and the door shut behind him.

  “Am I late to the party?” Wheeler twirled a small flashlight in his hand.

  “Get your ass over here and watch my back.”

  Wheeler shone the light in Jericho’s face. “It’s not your best side, but I’ll give it a whirl.”

  Wheeler stalked forward like a dark avenger, and they headed down one of the hallways to the right. Two doors were open and three were closed. All the rooms they looked in were empty, including a bathroom and closet. One door was locked and they passed it by. At the end of the hall, Jericho wandered into a bedroom with the same ugly décor. He lifted a delicate bottle of perfume from the dresser and held the sweet floral fragrance to his nose.

  Isabelle.

  The metallic taste of blood settled on his tongue from biting his lip.

  “The other side of the house is clear,” Wheeler said from the doorway. “When you’re done sniffing her panties, why don’t you come watch me kick down the locked door in the hall.”

  Jericho snorted and followed behind him. “This I need to see.”

  Wheeler stood with his back against the wall. In one swift motion, he kicked the door, which resulted in a shattering sound.

  The second time, Jericho stood beside him. “On three we’ll both go. One, two…”

  Before he hit three, they kicked in the door and busted the frame. It swung open and hit the wall before closing again. Jericho pushed it open and they looked inside, Wheeler shining the flashlight around the room.

  “What the hell is this?” Wheeler said, stepping in the center of the room, his voice reverberating off the walls. His shoes scratched on the gritty concrete as he turned in a slow circle, shining his flashlight across the floor.

  On the cement floor were two metal pins with chains attached. It looked like something you might see in a zoo. Wheeler kicked the animal crate on the right, and Jericho shuddered when he saw a broken fingernail by the door.

  Isabelle had never seen this room. She couldn’t have known the vile acts Hawk had committed. Jericho became nauseous when he bent over to get a closer look at the fingernail. Isabelle’s were painted green the last he remembered, and this one was red.

  Wheeler squatted down and held the chain between his fingers. “What do you think he was doing?”

  The room closed in and Jericho found it difficult to breathe. “Maybe just keeping them for his twisted perversions.”

  The chain clattered on the floor as Wheeler stood up. “Maybe he was selling them on the black market. That would explain why he’s hiding on the human side of town.”

  “Fuck you,” Jericho whispered at the insinuation that she could be gone for good.

  Wheeler folded his arms and lowered his chin. “Everyone knows it still goes on, although they prefer selling young girls and not someone as seasoned as her. Packs living outside the Council’s reach are always looking for submissive bitches. They can’t find any locally without getting caught, so they fork over a big wad of money and—”

  “So help me, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to staple your lips together and chain you to the floor.”

  Wheeler scratched his chin and turned around. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

  They were all aware of rogue packs run by the same men who had lived during the time when no Breed laws existed. They claimed land outside civilized society and made up their own pack rules, sometimes attacking organized packs and claiming their land. They were men who believed beating a woman into submission was the Shifter way. Barbaric men who did the unthinkable to women in order to establish rank among their pack.

  Terror consumed Jericho as he looked at the ugly secret within the exterior shell of an extravagant home, knowing someone could be holding Isabelle captive in this dark underworld.

  Wheeler stroked the hair on his chin. “We need to report this. Not just to Austin; this is bigger and the local Councilmen need to know what’s going on and put a stop to it.”

  A door slammed in the other room and a light flipped on, illuminating the hall. Jericho spun on his heel and faced the door with all senses alert.

  “Whoever the fuck is in my house is going to get a bullet in the head,” Hawk shouted in a gravelly voice.

  Wheeler appeared on Jericho’s right and tossed the flashlight noisily on the concrete floor. “And boom goes the dynamite.”

  Chapter 12

  I awoke to the usual slap on my ass. I thrust out my legs and viciously kicked as Hawk laughed haughtily.

  How long had I been I asleep?

  “Brought you a little present, honeybunch.”

  My curiosity was piqued when I heard unfamiliar noises coming from the front of the room. I peered over my shoulder and noticed Hawk had placed a table at the foot of the bed and was hooking up a television.

  “I don’t want to watch TV,” I said, scooting up and rubbing my face.

  “Oh, you’ll want to see this,” he said, connecting the cables in the back. Cables that ran out the door instead of plugging into the wall. “I have a special show I want you to watch.”

  “What time is it?”

  He stood up and pressed a button on the remote. “Showtime.”

  The screen switched on, and a black-and-white image appeared.

  “What is that?” I asked, staring at an empty room.

  Hawk set the remote on the table and tucked the cables out of sight. “When I stopped by the house to pick up a few things, I ran into your boyfriend. You know—the guy with his dick swinging in your face.”

  My heart plummeted and my veins filled with ice. I looked closer at the screen and only saw a crate.

  Oh God.

  “Hawk, what did you do?”

  “That asshole broke into my house. I put a cap in the guy who was with him, and your boyfriend shifted. Good thing I know a thing or two about how to get a wolf in a crate. I had plenty of practice with you.”

  “You what?” I gasped, my eyes widening. All this time I thought he’d kept my wolf in the backyard. Oh God, Hawk might have shot one of Jericho’s brothers. Every thought revolted at the idea I’d been intimate with a man capable of such horrific crimes as these.

  “That’s right, Izzy. Your wolf is a mean little bitch, but once you learn how to handle a rope, it’s easy to get them under control.”

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “I had to make sure I could transport you if things didn’t work out between us. You were easier to handle than the other girls who tried to leave. You’re too forgiving, Izzy. That’s your weakness.”

  I held my forehead in disbelief. “What are you going to do with Jericho?”

  “I’m going to have fun, and you’re going to watch. I can’t believe you still hold a candle for a worthless bag of sh
it like him. Do you think you matter to a guy like that?” Hawk laughed sadistically and leaned on the television. “I can spot a user a mile away.”

  A wolf emerged from the crate, staggering about the room and groggily shaking his head. It was Jericho’s wolf. I recognized his markings. Oh my God, this wasn’t happening.

  “Hawk, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. The question is: what’s he going to do to himself? There are enough drugs in that room to kill a whale. I want to see how long it takes before he buckles and gives in to his weakness. Sitting alone in a room for a long time makes a man reflect on his life. It’s what happens when you’re incarcerated. I was locked up in a human jail once. I had someone tracking me down, and it was the safest place I could lay low. Wouldn’t do it again; it almost killed me.”

  “Please, Hawk,” I begged. “Please let him go. Jericho won’t be trouble, and he has nothing to do with us.”

  “Sorry, Iz. A man swings a dick in my bitch’s face and he pays the penalty.”

  My cheeks grew wet with tears, and I looked away. “Turn it off.”

  “It’s late and I’m tired. Let me know if you want me to heat up any popcorn,” he said with a dark chuckle, closing the door behind him.

  When I braved looking at the screen, the wolf was no longer there. Jericho paced naked around the room with his mouth moving, but I heard no sound. The door looked impenetrable, and on the floor beside the wall was a towel with some objects neatly laid out on top. Jericho knelt down with his back to the camera, looking at the items. Then he whirled around with feral eyes, shouting silent profanities at the camera.

  I turned away from witnessing the cruelest torture imaginable. I’d heard stories about former addicts who overdosed because the first time they went back, they used the same amount of drugs they’d used at their peak. They forgot their body didn’t have a tolerance to that level anymore. Shifters healed, but we weren’t immortal.

  Bile rose in my throat, and I swung my legs off the bed and stared at the lamp. I tried to remember the number Denver had given me, but I couldn’t think straight. I kept wondering if the cables coming out of the TV led to Jericho’s room or a computer. Was he in this house or another one? I strained to listen but heard nothing. Maybe Jericho’s screams were behind soundproof walls or in a basement. Hawk seemed concerned that mine could be heard. Did I dare risk it?

  I quietly stood up and concentrated on remembering the phone number.

  The door suddenly swung open. “Here, I brought your clothes.” Something hit the bed as I stood with my back to him. “What are you doing, Izzy?”

  I stared at the solid base on the lamp.

  “Izzy?” he said cautiously, his voice drawing closer from behind.

  I gripped the base of the lamp and swung it around with my right arm. The cord caused it to jerk, but it smashed against Hawk’s right temple.

  Evil Izzy came out—enraged and eager to fight. I struck him several times with the lamp, getting him good on the forearm before he slapped me hard. Pain didn’t exist. That word had been erased from my dictionary when I glanced at the television and saw Jericho pacing like a caged animal.

  Hawk punched me in the gut, and I crumpled to the floor. The force of the fall caused the handcuff to bite into my already mangled wrist. Hawk shoved the table next to the dresser and out of reach.

  “No more weapons for you, Miss… What the fuck is this?” he exclaimed, lifting the telephone cord.

  He ripped it out from beneath the bed and then from the wall.

  “You little cunt!”

  Then he beat me on my back with the cradle.

  ***

  Days had elapsed, maybe a week. Time had eloped with the outside world and abandoned me to solitude. Hawk had reduced my meals to once a day after I kicked him in the groin.

  Twice.

  He didn’t restrict me from bathroom visits, but showers were out of the question. My knees finally scabbed over, my wrists were a gruesome sight, and I no longer looked like Isabelle Monroe. Hawk had made me into an undesirable woman. My hair was unwashed and tangled, my face pale and bruised, my stomach flattening more than I would have liked. But what I looked like on the outside was not a reflection of the strength that burned within—a fire I kept tempered until the time was right. Shifters found courage to be more admirable than physical beauty, and that’s one trait I had in the bag.

  My back was still sore from when he’d hit me with the phone. Hawk hadn’t raged since that night and remained his usual, poised self. Maybe the most disturbing aspect about it was how detached he’d become.

  I had no choice but to cage my wolf. A skilled Shifter could switch to their animal form and slip out of things like jewelry and clothes, but it wasn’t uncommon to get tangled up in them. Shackles, chains, ropes, and handcuffs—these were uncertainties for me, and because they restricted my movement, I didn’t want to take the chance. If I didn’t do it right, I could end up breaking her legs, and I was not a woman easily broken.

  I wanted to be that sassy little redhead at the bar who made the toughest of men bashful when I handed them a beer with a beguiling wink. I wanted to sit on a beach at night and bury my feet in the cool sand, listening to angry waves crashing against the shore. I wanted to travel to South America and taste the flavorful dishes I’d heard about from acquaintances. I wanted to find a mate someday who would be able to love me, even after all this.

  Maybe he’d be the kind of man who’d never give up on me. I’d never been more certain of wanting children as I was during my captivity. The mess of my own childhood became irrelevant; I just wanted to hold a baby in my arms so I could always protect and love him.

  I wanted to live.

  So my behavior became robotic, and it kept Hawk manageable. He subjected me to Jericho’s video, leaving it on day and night. On one occasion, Hawk had snuck into the room and left behind a pail of water and a clean towel. Jericho was slow on his reflexes and didn’t have time to react before the door swung shut. He might have seemed laid-back to most people, but Jericho possessed an intelligent, cunning mind. He had survival skills. He didn’t waste the water, but dipped half the towel in there and used it to wash off while saving the rest for drinking.

  I looked up at the television and watched him wrapping the towel around his waist. He didn’t know I was on the other end watching him, because every so often, he’d hold his middle finger up to the lens.

  It made me laugh every time.

  I even talked to him. Whenever he’d settle down, I’d pretend we were sitting next to each other, bantering about old times. I began forming a relationship with a ghost on the screen.

  Hawk opened the door and surprised me with a steak. “Last meal,” he said. “Looks like I found a buyer. Sorry things didn’t work out between us, Iz. But you can’t say I didn’t give you a chance. I’m making a run to the store for some protein shakes, and you’re going to shift and heal up some of those marks. I don’t think the buyer will care much, but I’d rather not hand over a mess or else he might change his mind on the price. I want to fatten you up, so eat every bite before you shift.”

  The door slammed, and my mouth watered looking at the steak. But what really caught my attention was his stupidity gleaming back at me.

  Hawk had finally slipped up and made a fatal mistake: he left me a weapon.

  I ate every bite of that overcooked steak and baked potato to stave off my hunger and give me strength. Then I covered the plate and fork with the napkin and concealed my steak knife under the pillow.

  “Hawk?” I yelled his name a little louder a second time. He liked to play mind games, so I couldn’t be sure if he’d really gone to the store.

  I screamed his name at the top of my lungs and gasped when I saw Jericho stand up. He cautiously approached the door and pressed his ear against it.

  “Did you just hear me?” I whispered.

  My heart beat wildly against my chest with a fever of hope. I screamed so loud that m
y voice cut off and I began coughing. This time he pounded on the door with his fists. I leapt to my feet and strained to listen, but only heard the TV in the next room.

  Jericho fell to his knees, covering his head with his arms, his fingers splayed. It was the look of despair, and it broke my heart.

  “No, no,” I whispered. “Please, no. I have the knife, Jericho. You have to wait for me. I’m going to come get you—I promise.”

  I pulled the knife from beneath my pillow and cut a hole in my nightgown, ripping away the bottom so it hung above my knees. I didn’t want anything interfering with crawling, running, or kicking.

  Next, I removed the picture from the wall and pulled the hard wire away from the back, stuffing it beneath my pillow. The stubborn nail was stuck in a plank of wood behind the wall, so I tossed the picture on the far side of the bed and examined the room. Hawk had moved the end table so the lamp and pen were no longer within reach.

  I gripped the iron bars on the bed and pulled, hoping to break something.

  At that point, I’d done everything I could do. I vowed I’d never complain again about breaking in new shoes. I was also going to let my wolf roll in the dirt all she wanted, and maybe treat myself to a few dozen donuts when I got out of here.

  Hell’s bells, I was going to dunk those bad boys in hot cocoa to my heart’s content. Calories shmalories.

  I didn’t know how long Jericho could hang on, but I had to get him out of that room. He was the one who needed saving. Jericho had found his salvation through family and music. He’d finally given up the demons he’d battled, and sure, maybe he still slept around, but he was miles more of a man than he’d been before. I wished I’d told him that. I was proud of the Shifter he had become.

  Except now, everything he’d worked hard for was threatened by a blanket of drugs inside a pressure cooker. Hawk wouldn’t be gone for long, so I prepared to fight. I couldn’t allow him to move me out of the house, or I wouldn’t be able to free Jericho. This was my last chance.