Together in ruins (The Scars series Book 4)

by Rachael Tonks

  Clenching my clammy hands, I can’t help but whimper as the fear takes hold. As my body starts to shake, I open my mouth to say something, anything that will give me some idea of what the hell is going on.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, Tara. I see why my son is so fascinated by you. But do you think he’ll want you if I disfigure you?”

  Dropping his leg to the floor, he stands, towering over me.

  I fidget, unsure what he’s going to do. I want to scream but all that I can force out is a meek “No” as he pulls out his knife.

  “No?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “You know he won’t want a disfigured Tara?” He tilts his head and the tone of his voice lets me know he’s taunting me.

  “Fuck you,” I yell at him, my head jerking forward as I force out the words. If this asshole is going to hurt me, I will fight, even if it’s only verbally.

  “Not something you should say to the man holding the knife in his hand, is it now?” He spins the knife in his hand, the look of pleasure spans across his face. Leaning over me once more, he grabs hold of my face with his free hand, squeezing my cheeks together as he bends closer, our foreheads touching. I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut tightly, trying to move my head enough to break the hold. But I can’t. “I’m going to make this hurt. I’m going to make you scream. And the sounds of your screams will give me unimaginable pleasure. And in the end, you’ll be begging me to fuck you instead of torture you. But don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll still fuck your ugly ass, even when you’re disfigured.”

  I widen my eyes, mumbling against the hold he has on my mouth.

  “You know, I was thinking how I would hurt you and exactly what I would do. Then, just like that it clicked.” Releasing the hold he has on my face he stands upright, lifting the hand that holds the knife in the air. Plunging it down, I cry out as the sharp blade sinks deep into my fleshy thigh, only stopping when it hits the bone. I throw myself forward, crying out.

  “Revenge,” he says, drawing out the word. “Thought I’d give you a little taste of what you did to me.” Keeping a firm grip on the handle, he twists it and the pain is unimaginable.

  With a laugh, he slowly pulls the knife from my leg, darting out his tongue and licking the blood covering the blade. “Tastes so good,” he says with a lift of his brow. The bastard stares at me with a smile on his face and zero signs of regret. He’s getting a sick kick out of hurting me, that much I can see.

  My whole body trembles and my lip quivers. I can’t feel or think of anything other than the pain. Jeffries leans over me again, the overwhelming smell of cigars hits my senses, causing me to fight back a gag. Grabbing the end of my hair roughly, he forces my head to the side, facing away from him. Slicing his knife against my hair, he cuts at it, my head moving as he forces my thick brown hair against the sharp blade. Dangling the hair in front of my eyes, I cry at the cruelty of what he’s trying to do to me. He wants to make me ugly. Disfigure me until no man would ever want to lay eyes on me.

  “Oh, poor Tara,” he taunts, throwing the hair to the floor. His hand heavy on my chin, forcing me to look at him. His hand shakes as he holds the blade of the knife close to my face.

  “Maybe I should start with your pretty little face. Shame, I enjoy and appreciate your beauty.” He shakes his head, tapping the tip of his blade against his lips as he contemplates his next move.

  My racing heart and anxiety causes me to blurt out to him, pleading for my life. “Please don’t do this.”

  Shaking his head, he stands stoic, eyes glaring at me. “You had your chance to be mine. And you fought me, Tara. This is your choice, not mine.” Lifting my chin with his hand he narrows his eyes on my throat. “Maybe I should start here. But keep still, princess, wouldn’t want to slice an artery.” Coming closer with the knife, he presses the blade against the sensitive skin on my neck. I still, making my whole body rigid, scared to make a wrong move. Clenching my eyes shut, I suck in a breath as the pain becomes all I can feel again. He slices the knife calmly, over and over, cutting lightly into my skin. Counting along with every slice he makes into my skin, I cry silent tears.

  Twenty-one.

  Twenty-two.

  Twenty-three.

  Please stop, I say over and over in my mind.

  The pain on the right side, now appears on the left. Again and again the knife scratches over my neck. I can feel the warmth of my blood trickling from the cuts.

  “Stop. Please stop,” I grate out, trying to speak without moving. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I feel my head starting to feel woozy, my mind giving into the pain and torture of him slicing at me. The more he cuts, the more painful it becomes. Without saying a word, he lifts the knife from my neck, straightens back and releases his hold on my chin.

  Tugging on the binds around my wrists, I’m desperate to wrap my fingers around my neck, stemming the flow of blood. I feel it streaming down my neck and onto my chest.

  “It’s no use,” he taunts with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

  “My neck… the blood,” I choke out. My body thrashes as the fear of bleeding out on this bed is all too much.

  He laughs, a menacing laugh, his chest rumbling as he watches me freaking out. “The more you thrash, the faster the blood will pump. You want to live, you need to keep calm and stay still.”

  Tears stream from my eyes and roll down my face. He laughs loudly and the sound feels like someone scraping their nails across a chalkboard. It causes me to wince, and above all else, I know I hate the sound of his laugh. It isn’t happy or carefree. It’s evil and more twisted than any noise I’ve ever heard before. Shivering, I gulp down the lump that has formed in my throat.

  “Are you… are you really just going to leave me here?” I blurt out. He stands at the side of his bed, cleaning the knife with a bandana he just pulled from his pocket. “Oh God, I’m going to die here aren’t I?” I say, but my voice is barely a whisper. Before I can even think of my next move, my head is knocked sideways and the pain makes me cry out. My nose stings and my face feels like it’s swelling, thumping from the contact. I turn, looking up at him, stunned and unsure what just happened. As soon as I see Jeffries shaking out his hand I know he just hit me.

  The motherfucker just punched me in the face.

  “You gotta shut the fuck up, Tara. Your pathetic whiny voice is really starting to piss me off.”

  My left eye starts to swell and my vision blurs. But there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s staring at me, as if admiring his handiwork.

  “Enough for today,” he says. Pushing the knife back in the holster he turns his back to me, walking out of the space and down the stairs like he hasn’t a care in the world.

  But for now, I have to hold on.

  Because I refuse to die here.

  I have too much to live for.

  Nate

  Riding down the well-concealed road, I slow my speed, my eyes frantically searching for some sign of the building Hunter gave me the address for. I hope for his sake, he isn’t playing me. Foolishly, I’ve trusted this guy, but went on my gut feeling about him. More than ever, I need my gut to be right.

  The rumble of the bikes behind me close in and I lift my left hand holding it up as the building comes into sight. My heart gallops knowing that Hunter came through. Now, I just have to hope that Tara is here and unharmed. I have to fucking pray to whatever God is watching over her, hoping that she’s safe and alive.

  Turning my bike, I pull up behind a row of trees, disguising us. I quickly cut the engine, hoping to go in there, guns-a-blazing, and catch the fucker off guard. Leaning the bike to the side, I kick out the stand and let it take the weight of the bike. I jump off, removing my helmet and rest it on the handles. I head over to Zane and Davo and pull out my gun, attach the silencer and cock it. I’m ready to kill any fucker in there. I’m pumped. Driven by the anger and uncontrollable rage within. I have to get her back. I have to make anyone who has so much as laid a finger on her, pay.


  “Right behind you, brother,” Zane says with a tap to my back.

  I nod.

  “Whatever happens, we get her out of there. Tara is our main priority. Got it?”

  “Goes without saying, brother,” Davo replies. “And if your father is there? You want to let the club deal with him. You know, deal with him the ‘Savage’ way?”

  I know what he’s asking and I know following through with the club rule would be the right thing to do. But deep inside, I have my own reasons for wanting to be the one to take him out. To be the one that avenges the woman who owns my heart.

  “No…” I decline with a shake of my head. His face hardens and he narrows his eyes on me.

  “You know that the club should deal with this…”

  “But I’m making the decision. If he’s inside there, then I’m going to be the one to kill him. I’m going to make him feel pain. I’m going to watch him struggle to take his last breath. It has to be me. I have to be the one to kill him.”

  “I get that.” Davo continues to argue but I cut him off.

  “He’s going to die. Here, there, does it really matter where?” I hold out my arms, lifting my shoulders in frustration.

  “We’re with you, brother. We follow your orders,” Zane interjects giving Davo a warning, his eyes widening.

  “You don’t need to like what I’m about to do. And if you don’t agree with my need to finish him here and now, then I suggest you get on the fucking bike and turn around. You’re either with me, or you’re not. But that’s your choice.”

  “Hey, hey,” he repeats. “Of course I’m with you, brother. I’m just trying to make you see that getting revenge is not always the right option. We all ended up hating your father because of his need to go solo and make deals behind our backs. I don’t want to see the same happening to you.”

  Adrenaline pumps so fast that before I realize what I’m doing, I have my gun pointed at Davo. “I don’t fucking need you in my ear every time I make a decision, you fucking got that?”

  “Whoa. Come on, brother. I know this is fucking hard, but don’t turn on your crew.” Zane places his hand gently against my stiffened arm. Pressing down, he pushes the gun away from Davo and finally lets go when it’s pointing to the ground.

  I shake my head, knowing I’ve fucked up. I close my eyes and murmur, “Shit, man. I’m sorry. My fucking head is a mess.”

  “You’re explosive, it’s to be expected. But let’s direct it at the right people, huh?”

  Nodding, I don’t verbally respond.

  I slowly make my way toward the building, noticing a burgundy-colored car and two bikes parked outside. The daylight is starting to fade, but there’s no mistaking the emblem on the tank of the bike.

  Fucking Deathseekers.

  Yet more confirmation that Brewer the asshole has been working with my father. I take sideways steps, gun in hand until my shoulder hits the cold metal wall of the building. Within a split second Zane and Davo stand behind me.

  With a flick of his head he asks, “Should we go around the back?”

  I hum in agreement and take slow steps around the large industrial-style building. With each footstep my heart thuds. The closer I get to the door, the higher the level of anxiety pumps through my whole body.

  I still at the sound of familiar voices. I hold out my hands to the guys to signal that I’ve heard something. A slither of light streams from a partially open door. The smell of smoke billows out of the door and voices echo through the empty land that surrounds the building.

  The door flies open and footsteps approach. I dip my head making sure my aim is good. As soon as a body steps from the door and comes into sight I pull the trigger. The silencer restricts the firing sound but the thud of the body against the ground gathers attention. I race over to the door stopping when I’m faced with the shit-eating grin of Silver.

  “What the fuck?” he gasps. His hands rise into the air as I force my gun against his temple.

  “Step out of the fucking door,” I order him, barely keeping the hold on my gun still, my whole body shakes with uncontrollable rage.

  “Back up against the building,” I continue, getting him to move away from the door.

  “Go inside, find my father and Tara,” I instruct the others, never once taking my eyes off this asshole.

  They nod, guns ready and carefully walking inside.

  “On your knees,” I bellow and he does what I say. “I’m surprised by you, Silver. Cat got your tongue?”

  “What the fuck do you expect me to say? Huh? You got a fucking gun pointed at my head.”

  “Where is she?” I ask, as I look at the man that has taken great pleasure in hurting me in the past. Look who’s laughing now.

  “Upstairs. In Jeffries’ makeshift bedroom.”

  “Alive?” I ask, swallowing down the bile that rises involuntarily.

  “Why don’t you go and see?”

  “Don’t play fucking games with me.” I remove my gun from the position against his forehead. Raising my hand, I crack the gun down against the side of his head with all my strength. He cries out, his hand coming to a stop where my gun made contact.

  “You fucking cocksucker!” he shouts at me, lifting his head just enough to make eye contact. A slow, slimy smile spreads across his face. “A pathetic kid playing an adult game.”

  POP.

  The sound of a gun firing has my head whipping from side to side as I search for where the sound came from. As soon as I lift my head, my eyes land on the asshole I’ve been searching for.

  I lift my hand to point my gun and the sting in my shoulder lets me know where the bullet landed. I’m hurt, but it’s not serious. With my gun lifted I pull back the trigger aiming and shooting repeatedly at Jeffries. His body falls to the floor and I’m soon knocked from my feet. Silver has me on the floor and lifts his fists, reining punch after punch against my face. The gun I had has fallen out of my hand and as I glance down, I see it’s too far for me to reach. Wiggling down, my hand finds the handle of my knife and I pull it from the holster. Lifting it, I plunge the knife deep into Silver’s neck over and over. Blood sprays my face, but I don’t stop. He lifts his hand, gagging as he starts to choke. His body soon becomes limp and I’m completely covered in his blood.

  “Boss, fuck! Shit, are you okay?” Zane races over, dragging Silver’s body off me. “We got her. We got Tara,” he says offering me his hand and pulling me from the floor. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

  Grimacing, I force myself to breathe through the pain. I glance over to my father lying on the floor. His hand clutches his stomach and blood pours from the wound.

  “Take him inside.” I croak out my instruction, lifting my shirt and dragging it across my face in an attempt to remove the blood.

  Stepping over Silver’s body, I rush to make my way into the building. With every second that passes by, the movement in my arm becomes less and less. I press my already bloodied hand against the gunshot wound. Looking at my hand, it’s bleeding pretty bad. But I don’t care. I have to get to Tara. I have to know she’s okay.

  “Davo,” I yell out. My eyes roam the place, hoping to locate Tara. I head toward the stairs, footsteps can be heard and vibrate from just above.

  “Up here, man,” he yells down to me. Racing up the stairs so fast, I have to stop myself from tripping. As soon as my eyes land on Tara in Davo’s arms, I almost lose my shit. It’s like someone has taken a knife to my gut. Her body is wrapped in a bedsheet and her face is bruised and badly swollen. Her neck is covered in cuts and her hair has been cut off.

  But the one thing I notice above all else is her smile.

  She’s smiling. The kind of smile I know she only has for me. She wiggles her leg, instructing to Davo that he should put her down.

  “Are you sure?” he asks with a frown. “You’re weak, honey.”

  “I’m sure,” she whispers and he does as she asks. Lowering her, he takes hold of her arm, holding up her weight. My eyes travel
down to the blood on her leg.

  Unable to hold back any longer. I race over to her, scooping her up in my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I say, holding her to my chest.

  “I just want you to take me home,” she sobs against me and I feel overwhelmingly protective.

  “I will, baby, I promise.” Pulling back, I brush my hand over her hair, her head tipping and her eyes meeting with mine. “I just gotta finish up here.”

  “Where is he?” Her eyes widen and the look of fear creeps over her face.

  “Downstairs and hurt badly. He won’t ever be able to touch you again.”

  “Please, just get me out of here,” she rushes out, shuddering.

  “I need your shirt, man.”

  Immediately, Davo slides off his cut and removes his shirt, handing it to me. He slides the cut back on while I wrap his shirt around Tara, fastening the first few buttons to cover her semi-naked body.

  “I need you to take her outside. Wait at the bikes for us,” I inform Davo.

  “You got it,” he replies, wrapping his hand around her waist and helping her down the stairs.

  “Whatever you do, keep your eyes focused on the door. I don’t ever want you to lay eyes on that sick fuck. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” she replies meekly, sniffling as she fights back tears. As we approach the bottom of the steps, I place my hand under her chin lifting her head slowly until she’s looking into my eyes.

  “I love you,” I declare and her eyes widen. Those words I’ve often struggled to say. The feelings I’ve held back all come pouring out. Because I’m her man. And she has to know how I feel. I dip my head, kissing her lips gently. Her eyes flutter shut and a single tear streams down, dropping onto my jaw. Her tears are mine. Her pain is mine too. I glance over my shoulder, looking at my father, slumped but breathing in a chair positioned in the middle of the room.

  Turning my attention back to Tara, I tell her, “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”