City In Embers

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Instead of ripping my guts out, he would tear my soul.

  I sensed his men coming around the back, surrounding me. Impulse overcame me, and my legs darted for the widest opening in the group. They were on me in a matter of seconds. My fist cracked into a man’s face. I twisted and kicked, hitting the groin of another. He fell to the ground, spitting saliva and swear words in my direction.

  I grabbed another guy’s arm and flipped him over my back. If there were only three or four of them, I would have been fine. I could handle myself in a fight, but there were at least twenty men. What really stopped me was the gun being shoved into my temple, the hammer cocked back.

  The gang leader took a step toward me, clapping his hands. “A feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

  Dozens of hands and arms held me in place, the gun a strong reminder I was no longer in control.

  “We’ve been searching for you and your boyfriend.” He grabbed my face. I struggled against his grip. “You came into our house, ate our food... and how did you repay us? Three of my men are dead and five of them are in intensive care.”

  “The blame for one of those dead men can be laid at your own feet,” I spit at him.

  His fingers squeezed harder, hurting the bones along my jaw. “Yeah, about that. We don’t really like witnesses. Now where is he?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “We only want to return the favors. Show him the same hospitality he showed us.” He put his face only an inch from mine. “If you don’t tell me where he is, then you will become the reason he finds me... and he might not like the condition you are in when he does.”

  I tried to smile. “You won’t get him.” No matter what, I would not have told him anything, but I didn’t have a clue where Ryker was.

  Marcello stepped back. “Oh, I think I will.” His eyes traveled over my body. “I think I have something he really wants.” He pivoted on his heel. “Time to get comfy in your new accommodations, Goldilocks.”

  The gun slammed into my temple and everything went blurry before I blacked out.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “I told you to stay put,” a husky voice murmured in my ear. My lids flew open, and promptly, the throbbing in my head sent shockwaves of pain through my skull.

  I cringed but kept my focus on the man kneeling in front of me. “Ryker?” White eyes met mine, an eyebrow curving up. He found me. Everything inside me wanted to react, to cheer in happiness.

  “Do you ever listen?” He worked at the rope tied around my wrists, attaching me to the railing of the stairs.

  “Garrett’s men came. He had my picture.”

  “I know.” Humor hinted in his eyes.

  “Really? You enjoy giving me a hard time now?”

  “There isn’t a time I don’t relish it.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.” I blinked, clearing my vision. “Marcello has been searching for you. He is really pissed. They’re gonna try and kill you.”

  “Let the humans try,” he scoffed.

  “Ryker,” I hissed at him.

  “You want me to leave you here?”

  He was taking this too lightly.

  I glanced around, scouting for Marcello’s men. It was another warehouse. A different one than the one we had been in before, but it appeared similar in the way it was designed. The large space stood empty, but it looked like it once housed large items for boats, like propellers, or engine parts. Hefty chains hung from the rafters, ready to crank up heavy machinery.

  What bothered me was this warehouse was silent. No one was walking around or guarding me.

  “This is a trap, Ryker. I’m a trap!”

  “I know.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, fifteen or more men appeared out of nowhere, surrounding him. He came in knowing I was bait—but he did anyway.

  Ryker jumped and swiveled around, withdrawing his axe. His arms twitched as the muscles coiled, the blade swinging.

  Crunch. The cleaver hit a guy in the head. His body flew, knocking several of his fellow comrades to the cement. A voice yelled and more men came from behind us. There were now more than thirty of them. There were too many men coming at Ryker at once, and Marcello’s men were more prepared for Ryker’s speed and strength. Marcello wanted to make sure he would not lose this time.

  “Ryker, watch out!” I screamed as five men carried a thick chain connected to the ceiling in his direction. My warning came too late. The group ran for Ryker, tangling him in the cables.

  “Now,” a man yelled. More than five men jogged to the crane and cranked it by hand. Ryker fought and struggled against the thick boat chains. He roared with fury, his eyes burning brightly. They could only pull him a couple of feet off the deck.

  “It’s a shame,” Marcello’s voice came from the stairs above me, “what a fine pair of tits and a cute ass can do to a man. Women are like kryptonite. But we can’t seem to help ourselves, huh? Even knowing this was a trap, you still came for her.” Marcello sauntered down the steps, straightening his sports coat. He wore a nice suit, his expression full of haughty arrogance. He had the upper hand and loved proving to his men who was the “real man.”

  Ryker growled; the ire in his face and muscles twitched with the need to tear into Marcello. If the leader was afraid, he hid it under his ego. He smiled and walked to where I was tied. He watched me for a while. “Even with a lump on her head, she really is beautiful. I can see the draw.” He nodded to one of his men and strutted to a table. “Untie her.”

  Three men were on me, unfastening the rope. They stood me and dragged me to Marcello. My eyes caught the object on the table Marcello touched.

  My bag.

  Sprig!

  “Lose something?” Marcello seized my carrier and held it up. “Have to admit, I was surprised by what I found inside. Of all things I expected to find, it was not a sleeping monkey.”

  “What did you do with him?” A wave of sickness rocked my gut. The thought of him hurting Sprig sent bile up my throat.

  “Why do you have a primate in your bag, Zoey?” He said my name with smugness. “That is your name, isn’t it? It’s on this piece of paper I found tucked in a book with an adorable picture of you and another man. The Art of War? Interesting choice of reading material. These aren’t things you normally find in a girl’s purse.”

  He was leader for a reason. He was smart, and he knew things didn’t make sense when it came to Ryker and me. We didn’t fit the norm, and to people like him, if you didn’t make sense, then you were a threat.

  “What did you do with him?” I scowled.

  Marcello smiled, his white teeth in contrast to his dark skin. “He is safe for now. I will decide what to do with your pet later. Right now let’s focus on this one.” He rotated to stare at Ryker. The chains twisted around Ryker’s neck, cutting into his flesh. “How would you like your lover to die?”

  Loathing gripped my air passage so tightly I became dizzy.

  “I’ll take your silence as you’re open to anything.” Marcello went for Ryker’s axe, which had fallen on the floor. His forehead strained as he pulled on the handle. He tried to cover it up, but it was obvious he couldn’t lift it. Ryker let out a deep laugh. Being embarrassed invoked Marcello’s fury. He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and emptied the magazine into Ryker’s gut. Boom. Boom. Boom. The gunshots continued to explode in what felt like an endless stream before the slide on Marcello’s gun locked.

  Screams ricocheted off the walls. My screams. The men took on my weight, my legs giving out. It didn’t matter if logic told me he was fae and these were human bullets. When you watch the blood of someone you know spray across the room and pour out of his body, it sends logic out the door.

  Ryker’s head fell forward, his body going limp. One of Marcello’s men yanked on the hand crank. The chains jerked under Ryker’s weight. His body slipped, wrapping the shackles around his neck, pulling it in an unnatural angle.

  Crack.

  The loud snap bounced
off the walls. Ryker’s legs went limp, dangling, as his body hung from the noose.

  Ice poured into my feet and bubbled along my spine like blowing into a straw.

  Ryker was dead. Deep in my gut I felt it.

  Marcello grinned. “I would normally say it wasn’t personal—merely business. But this one is personal and even more gratifying.”

  Shock took over my thoughts and reactions, shutting me down. Anger bulldozed across my heart, minimizing all emotion except rage. My teeth clenched, my shoulders drawing back.

  “I am sorry you had to watch that, but you need to know who runs this town. I will not be made a fool of.” He ambled to Ryker, wiping one finger across his boot, catching the blood dripping out of the hole in Ryker’s stomach.

  I wanted to kill Marcello. I wanted to tear him a part. “Fuck you.”

  Marcello shook his head in disappointment and strolled closer till he stood in my face. “What did you say?

  “I. Said. Fuck. You,” I spit out. His hand struck my face. Spots of light blurred my vision, my cheek stinging and pulsing in agony. I spat saliva thick with blood. “Do your worst. I have had crueler men than you try to break me.”

  “Look at you. All tough talk. You know, it only causes this to be easier.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and leaned in. “And it’s only making my dick harder.”

  Here stood another man who perceived me a certain way, underestimating me because of my appearance. Looks could be so deceiving.

  The glint in his brown eyes told me exactly what he thought. My stomach rolled into a knot. I had seen the same look on other men many times in my life, including one of my foster fathers, a sick twisted prick with an inferiority complex. Seeing someone weak or in their control gave them pleasure. Metaphorically and in actuality—a hard-on.

  Marcello was no different. He wanted nothing more than to put me in my place and show me and everyone around who was boss.

  His smile curled up his face and into his eyes. His finger came to my chin, his minions gripping me even tighter. Knuckles stroked my cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Ryker’s blood. “Seattle and everything in it is under my control. I regulate what comes and goes in this city. I run this town.” He straightened, his gaze searching mine for a reaction. Did he expect my panties to drop at his declaration? All I could think was, What a fool. If he only knew what really controlled this city, he would be the one wetting his pants. His empire would soon fall. Unfortunately for me, it would not be soon enough. “And I will enjoy fucking the spirit out of you.”

  I kept my face frozen. I had not yet been broken. This asshole would not be the one to do it now.

  Even with what would happen to me, I couldn’t stop my eyes from looking at Ryker over and over again. Blood dripped, pooling on the concrete below. He hung in the chains like a scarecrow in a desolated cornfield. I searched for any flutter of his chest. Nothing. He could have survived the gunshots. But not this, not his neck snapping. He was dead.

  I was alone once again. It was my fault since I stupidly let myself get attached and allowed myself to depend on someone else. With my past, I should have known better. I would not be making the mistake again.

  I pressed my lips together, my attention going to the “prince” of Seattle. I always got myself out of my own messes. This was no different.

  Knights in shining armor or the last-minute saves in movies were not real. After too many nights, when tears had long since stopped, did I understand life was cruel and ugly. It took my innocence and incinerated it, burning blisters into my soul. But I was a fighter. Whatever happened, whatever he did to me, he would not break me. I would live, and I would get out of this.

  “Take her upstairs.” He nodded to the men behind me. “Make sure she is secured.” Marcello turned, his arms going up, and motioned at Ryker. “And take care of this mess. The cops keep sniffing around this area.”

  My muscles reacted out of instinct and wiggled against the men’s hands as they escorted me to the stairs. Realizing it was a waste of energy, I let them guide me to the room at the top of the landing.

  A desk faced the door against one wall, with files stacked on it. There was a chair for the person sitting at it, but no other pieces of furniture were in the room. A map of Seattle hung on the wall, stabbed with red pushpins. It didn’t appear anyone, including Marcello, spent a lot of time in here. He could position himself above others to literally look down on his minions.

  They pushed me through the office to the rear, which appeared to have been a storage area at one time, but now it acted as another type of holding room. For people. Broken zip ties sprinkled the area, suggesting I wasn’t the first one held here. The thought of girls before me, who no longer occupied the space, sent a chill across my heart. What happened to them? Where were they now?

  They dragged me to the radiator and pushed me to the floor. A dark-haired boy grabbed a few zip ties from the pile on the shelf. He had a deep cut in his top lip, which hitched the skin, never letting him fully close his mouth. The hitch-lip boy, who couldn’t have been older than seventeen, laced my wrists through the plastic and looped them through a metal strip on the radiator. The ticking sound of them tightening hammered in rhythm with my heart. He pulled the ties, crushing my wrists as he strung both my arms high above my head.

  “Remember me? You kicked me in the cojones, puta.” Another dark-skinned guy leaned in with a sneer. “When the boss isn’t here... I will be.” He shoved his hand under my top, wiggling past my bra, grabbing one of my breasts. My whole body howled to respond, to snarl, bite, and kick, which is exactly what he wanted from me, to react, to show my fear. I blinked, keeping my face void of any emotion. Keep it together, Zoey.

  Hitch-lip smacked his buddy. “Back off, you sick bastard. She belongs to the boss.”

  The sick fuck dropped his hand from my chest and stood. He waited for the other three guys to leave the room before he turned to me. “Te la voy a meter de mira quien viene.”

  It took everything I had to keep my face void of emotion. Vomit gurgled its way through my throat, burning holes in my esophagus. My reaction could no longer be held in. “Only way to get laid is to rape them, huh? Yeah, I can see why.” My jaw set as I looked at him with disgust. I knew what was coming, but I couldn’t help myself. It usually only pissed them off, making them even more determined to have you under their power, but the vileness in my chest was too much to contain.

  He didn’t disappoint. He grabbed my hair with a severe yank, his eyes shining with rage. “I will show you, bitch, until you are screaming.” His hand gripped the top of my head and slammed it against the metal.

  Blackness poured into my vision, tugging me in its grasp until I was again lost in the void of nothing.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings before the sharp thumping in the back of my head started. I cringed, wanting to soothe the pulsating pain, but my hands would not cooperate with my mind. Then I realized I didn’t feel my hands. I only felt a dull ache in my arms. My lids fluttered as they tried to open. The only thing telling me my eyes were open was a slight glow where the door stood open. The light came from someplace in the warehouse.

  My arms dangled from the radiator, numb with blood loss. My ass wasn’t feeling much better. Neither one of those body parts held a candle to my head. The sharp metal corner, which the bastard hit my head against, left a pain so indescribable I could barely keep my eyes open. My stomach rolled with nausea.

  Things were not looking great. I was bound and probably about to be raped and murdered. Ryker was dead, and Sprig was locked in a cage, most likely to be traded in the black market or eaten for dinner.

  Anger flared. This was not how I was going to die. I still had to find out who I was. What was the secret the DMG, Daniel, and Daniel Senior concealed from me? The strange hints both Daniels left me were highlighted in my thoughts with red marker. Dying this way was not going to happen. Fuck these assholes. I had tougher guys w
anting me dead or tied in a room. This commonplace gang was not going to take me down.

  I sucked in a breath and tugged at my restraints. They only tightened more, cutting into my skin. No. Plastic was not going to be my downfall. I fought against the cuffs. A trickle of blood slid along my arm, soaking into my top.

  “You are only going to hurt yourself more,” a voice came from the door. Marcello stood, his outline filling the jamb. He walked to his desk with very little light guiding his way. The sound of a match striking perked my ears. A glow flickered in the kerosene lamp, igniting the space. I flinched, my eyes closing against the brightness, rejecting the sudden brutality. It was like someone twisted the nerves and blood vessels in my head, which pumped and throbbed with sharp twinges of pain.

  “You’ve been out for hours.” Flames shimmered in his dark cold eyes. “I had words with Pedro. None of my men will touch you again.” He took slow calculated steps before squatting to my eye level. His hand came to my hair, slithering down to touch my face. “That is my job.”

  My chin moved away from his touch. He might try to come across like a gentleman, but he was as vile as his men. Anybody who sexually abused someone to show control and authority was the lowest scum on Earth.

  He only smiled at my reaction. “If you are curious about your boyfriend, he is now at the bottom of the ocean, being chewed on by sharks.” He winked.

  A stone fist punched through my chest at hearing the finality of Ryker’s death. My heart felt both heavy and empty at the same time. I had gotten used to the fae being there, annoying the hell out of me. But he had been there the night when the nightmares hit strong, his warm body next to mine. I had felt safe. The few smiles I ever got out of him flickered in my head, wrenching my gut. Now I felt truly alone, but being solitary was something I was used to. It was better this way; all I had to worry about was me.