by K. Webster
“Everything I’ve come up with so far is in our shared folder,” I tell Koyn on my way out. “We’ll get these fuckers.”
All three of them grunt in agreement.
If there’s anything I’ve learned since my brother became prez over this area chapter, it’s that you don’t fuck with the Royal Bastards.
Stormy
Boredom is going to kill me.
I’ve searched the house from top to bottom to no avail. Copper keeps his office locked tight, but other than that, I’ve had free rein. He was even kind enough to let the dogs out this morning when he left for work. I caught glimpses of them playing like puppies in the quickly melting snow. It would have been cute if they weren’t so terrifying.
Being around Hansel and Gretel makes me think about Calla and Cove, my twin siblings who are in college now. I haven’t seen them or spoken to them since I joined the Royal Bastards undercover. It was too risky. Now, I’ve probably jeopardized them even more by blowing my cover. Copper may be easy to get along with, but Koyn is a fucking tool. And smart as hell. He’ll have my entire life stripped apart before I know it.
I need to get the hell out of here.
If I can get to Fayetteville where the twins attend the University of Arkansas, maybe I can convince them to take off with me. We can go into hiding together. I’ll take care of them like I always did growing up. They’ll be safe. I can keep them safe if I can just get to them.
The dogs bark at something outside, making the hairs on my neck prickle. It’s because of them I haven’t just waltzed out the front door. Copper makes it seem as though they’re harmless, but I’ve seen what vicious dogs can do when in multiples. Hansel and Gretel have sharp teeth and are solid muscle. Between the two of them, they could take me down and kill me like those dogs killed Mom.
A tremble of fear ripples down my spine. I try to ignore it, but my hands won’t stop shaking. If I have any hope of getting out of here, I need to put my big girl panties on and just leave.
I suck in a deep, calming breath.
I have to do this.
Just like all those years ago, I snatched the twins up and got them to safety so those dogs didn’t kill them too. And, like then, their safety is what prevails over my fear.
I have to protect my siblings.
Quickly, I assess my outfit in the mirror. I threw on my warmest outfit—black skinny jeans, black riding boots, and an OU hoodie I stole from Bermuda’s closet once while putting away his laundry. It still smells like him, which makes me tear up.
He’s a bad guy like the rest of them.
Try telling my heart that.
Bermuda, of all the guys, really was like a brother to me. He reminded me of Cove in so many ways. Wore his heart on his sleeve but loved intensely. I know Bermuda loved me right back. It sickens me knowing he hates me now.
I swipe at the stupid tears forming and grab my bag. It’s bulky and I wish it were a backpack instead, but I can’t worry about that now. I need my stuff and I need to get the hell out of here now. After pulling the hood over my head, I make my way to the front door, peeking out the side window.
It’s eerily quiet.
The dogs are off somewhere rather than horsing around in the front yard.
It’s now or never.
Slowly, I creak open the door. The alarm panel on the door doesn’t beep because it’s been shut off. I already tried to access the police earlier, but Copper had been two steps ahead of me, deactivating the alarm completely. Slowly, I creep out the front door and onto the porch. The afternoon sun has melted most of the snow. It’s muddy as hell and I cringe knowing I’m going to ruin my boots.
Focus, girl.
I take ginger steps down the slick steps on the front porch, craning my head to listen for any threatening sounds. When I hear nothing, I sweep my gaze over the yard, trying to make sense of which direction I should go. The lake wraps around two sides of his property. It leaves the long driveway or the woods. Since I have no idea when Copper will return, I decide to take my chances in the woods.
Despite the sun being out and the snow melting, my body temperature drops quickly since I’m underdressed. I couldn’t find a jacket or a coat. The one I’d worn the night before was missing and Copper’s bedroom was also locked, so I couldn’t steal one of his. Bermuda’s hoodie is the only thing keeping me warm.
I reach the edge of the cleared property and stare into the thick woods, nerves threatening to consume me. I’m more of a city girl than a country one. I prefer shopping malls and restaurants than the great outdoors. Trekking through the woods unprepared and while escaping a captor is going to be trying.
Sucking in a deep breath, I attempt to calm myself. This is easy. It’s just walking. I don’t even have to run because Copper isn’t here. I’ll get a massive head start on him. By the time he can even try to track me, I’ll be long gone to Arkansas to grab the twins. Then, I’ll be a ghost, hiding so far away and under the radar, Koyn and the others will never be able to find us.
I’m imagining the soft, shy smile on Cove’s face when I roll my ankle on a fallen branch, sending me crashing to the still-snowy earth floor. I cry out in surprise and curse the moment I realize I’ve cut my palm open on a sharp branch. The pain is a dull throb at first and then it begins to burn. Blood runs down, dripping into the pure white snow, tainting it.
“Shit,” I complain as I drop my bag to rifle through it.
I locate a black tank top and use it to wrap around my bleeding hand to staunch the flow. Once I’ve tucked in the ends under the fabric and made a makeshift bandage, I snatch my bag up and toss it over my shoulder.
A moan escapes me when I take a step, putting pressure on my rolled ankle. The sound of dogs viciously barking from far away has terror clawing up my throat.
Oh God.
I whimper, limping forward, eager to escape the Dobermans. With each step, tears roll down my cheeks, dripping from my jaw. Sure, the pain hurts, but the image of being mauled by Hansel and Gretel is terrifying beyond my wildest nightmares. I’m frantic as I hobble through the forest, growing dizzy and lightheaded with each step. The barking gets louder as it nears. My ears ring as they rush with blood and my chest hurts with how hard my heart is beating.
I try to remain calm, but when I hear the barking grow nearer, I let out a yelp before breaking into a full-on sprint despite the searing pain in my ankle. Branches whip at my face as I run and I stumble more times than I can count.
The dogs are closer than before, their barking making my skin crawl. I consider climbing a tree when I’m hit with a sudden painful jolt of electricity that makes me collapse to my hands and knees.
The collar.
I’d tried getting it off earlier, but Copper didn’t even leave me with a butter knife. I sort of forgot about it until now.
This will be how I die.
Just like Mom—a product of all my bad decisions literally biting me in the ass.
A gut-wrenching sob pierces the air as I claw at the collar. Another painful jolt has my eyes rolling back in my head. I crawl blindly searching for the perimeter line, hoping I cross it before I pass out.
Jolt after jolt assaults me to the point I begin to puke. Still, I crawl back toward the barking, hating every second of the last moments of my life. When I go more than a few seconds without the electric shock, I collapse, my chest heaving from exertion. Branches crack from nearby followed by a vicious growl.
As soon as I see the blue collar on the Doberman, I begin to black out.
“Don’t bite me, Hansel.”
He runs straight for me, but I pass out before I meet my final fate.
I wake to licking.
On my face and hands.
I’m confused and disoriented. Parts of me are cold and I shiver, but two warm bodies are pressed against me. When I realize it’s Hansel and Gretel licking me, I let out a terrified mewl. Both dogs whimper as though they’re afraid, which confuses me.
Why aren’t they eating m
e?
Gretel nudges at my hand that hurts like a motherfucker. She whines, sniffing the blood. I tense up, wondering if she’ll bite it. When she doesn’t, I take a chance at petting her. The dog nuzzles me as though she’s happy for the touch.
Every muscle in my body aches from exertion. My ankle throbs fiercely and my hand will need stitches. I’m in dire need of medical attention, but I can’t move. I could scream at myself for being so stupid and careless. I had my chance at escape and it’s gone. I’ll never get Calla and Cove away safely.
Defeat floods through my veins, immobilizing me. The cold snow seeps into my bones, making me sleepy. Either I’m going to die out here from the elements, or I’ll die when Copper gets home. He’s going to want to strangle me. Maybe he’ll decide I’m too much trouble and let Filter or Dragon have me. Both of those men would get their rocks off on torturing me to death. It’s best if I just die now.
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
I drift in and out, only waking when one of the dogs whimpers or licks me. If it weren’t for their warmth, I would’ve probably already died. All my fear has taken a back seat. I’m grateful they’ve decided to cuddle me rather than tear me apart limb from limb.
A deep voice calls out from far away. Both dogs tense up and begin barking in response. Traitors. I squeeze my eyes shut, dreading the inevitable. Once again, sleep steals me away, and I only wake when someone curses.
I blink open my eyes to see Copper glaring at me. He’s handsome as ever in his navy and yellow FBI jacket. His hair is messier than usual and frown lines appear between his brows.
“They didn’t eat me,” I whisper.
Copper grunts. “No. They didn’t.”
I’d expected screaming or for him to lash out at me. Instead, he stares at me like I’ve disappointed him. Of all the things he could have done, this is the worst. I burst into tears, which makes the dogs whine.
“Enough of that,” Copper mutters. “I can’t deal with you crying.”
This only makes me cry harder.
I’ve failed.
The Royal Bastards. My siblings. The FBI.
And especially myself.
Copper
Stormy’s wet lashes flutter and her head lolls to the side as she passes out. Alarm chases away the fury that had been raging through me the moment I realized she’d run off. Now, all that matters is getting her skinny ass back inside where I can see to her injuries and warm her up.
“Good dogs,” I praise Hansel and Gretel. “You kept this idiot from freezing to death.”
Both animals whine with worry for our new “guest.”
“She’s going to be okay,” I assure them as I shoulder her bag and then slide my arms beneath her. “And when she’s feeling better, I’ll whip her ass for this stunt.”
Hansel barks at me as though he understands every goddamn word and doesn’t like that idea. Ignoring my dog, I scoop her up and start back to the house. Her body is cold, which is worrying, and her clothes are drenched from the melting snow. I’ll need to assess the cut on her hand too that’s bleeding through her shirt she wrapped around it.
I did not want to deal with this shit when I got home.
I wanted to drill her for more answers, not play fucking hero.
But, just looking at her blue lips has me feeling like a goddamn pussy because I’m worried she went and got herself hypothermia. Regardless of what Hansel thinks, I’m definitely whipping her ass for this.
The walk back to the house is a treacherous one with all the snow covered fallen branches. It’s no wonder she hurt herself. If she’d walked down the road like a normal person, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. I would’ve seen her ass and could have just grabbed her.
Filter was right.
I’ve been too soft on her. I’ve just let her be Stormy rather than a captive traitor like she truly is. That shit changes now. Clearly, I can’t trust her at all.
I make my way back inside, hating that we’re tracking mud into the house. When her ass heals, she’s going to clean it up too because this is all her fault. I’m fuming again by the time I reach the guest room. But, when I lay her down on top of the covers, her wrecked state has my chest squeezing again.
Her boots are soaked and caked with mud, so I rip them off along with her socks first. I manage to get her jeans unfastened and pulled over her hips before she wakes in a panic. She kicks out at me, terror wild in her blue eyes. I grab her foot to keep from getting my balls smashed and she howls in pain. Relaxing my hold, I take in the bruising, swollen flesh.
“I have to get these wet clothes off of you and get you cleaned up,” I growl as I set her foot back down. “Kick at me again and I’ll leave your ass in here to die.”
A sob shudders through her, but she doesn’t fight me anymore. I’m able to remove her wet jeans and then her hoodie without any resistance. Once she’s in nothing but her bra and panties, I drag her blanket over her body.
“I’ll be right back,” I grunt out before stalking out of her room on a hunt for my first aid kit.
After unlocking my bedroom, I locate my kit in the bathroom closet and wet a washcloth with hot water. I snag a few more towels and head back to her room. She’s asleep again by the time I return, which suits me just fine. I unwrap her hand first to assess the damage.
She fucked herself up good.
With a heavy sigh, I set to cleaning the open wound with alcohol that makes her scream out in pain. We struggle a bit, but I manage to subdue her enough to get it clean enough I can suture it up. Having a boy who loved the outdoors and didn’t listen to a damn word his parents said, I did my fair share of stitching cuts up. Stormy remains still as I sew her flesh closed and wrap her up with new gauze. I work on making a compression wrap for her ankle to keep the swelling at bay. Once her injuries are seen to, I clean her up with the washcloth as best as I can before tucking her tight inside the blankets.
“Rest until I get some soup made,” I instruct.
I put away my mess and then set to making her some chicken broth. The dogs, still muddy and whiney from the day’s activities, follow me around with their tongues hanging out like I might slip them their own bowl of soup. I toss them a few treats and take the soup back to Stormy.
She’s sitting up in bed, her hair a tangled mess and her blue eyes wild, when I return. The blanket is clutched in the grip of her uninjured hand, holding it just above her breasts.
“W-Where are my clothes?” she demands, her brows pinching in confusion.
“They were soaked.” I try to keep my cool, knowing she’s still kind of out of it. “Now you’re going to eat this soup—”
“Stay away from me!”
I set the bowl down on the end table. “You can cut this bullshit right now,” I growl. “I just went and rescued your ass, treated your ass, and was about to feed your ass. What I don’t need is you making my ass feel like shit when you’re the one who fucking bolted!”
She flings the covers off and launches herself off the bed. The moment she puts weight on her foot, she cries out, flailing. I snag her before she hits the ground, drawing her into my arms.
“No!” she shrieks. “Don’t touch me, you monster!”
“Calm the fuck down!” I roar.
She wriggles and screeches in my grip. I toss her back on the bed, already over her shit. When she bares her ass to me, barely covered in a pink thong, as she tries to crawl away, I decide it’s time to punish her now rather than later. I grab her good ankle, dragging her back toward me. With a hard smack, I strike her white ass. Her entire body goes still before she snarls out every curse word known to man. I smack her ass harder this time.
Apparently it’s going to take a lot more than my hand.
She howls, her voice dripping with terror when I undo my belt. I yank it off with a swoosh as I pin her down with a strong hand on the middle of her back. Her scream is otherworldly when I strike her ass hard, just like I used to have to do to Blake when he was going t
hrough a shitty-ass pre-teen stage. She squirms and sobs, fighting me to no avail.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
I stripe her ass crimson until she stops trying to escape. Her sobs become hysterical, but she gives in to the punishment. Once I’ve deemed she’s had enough, I caress her hot, abused flesh.
“Good girl,” I praise. “Now, I want you to—”
“Please don’t rape me.”
And just like that, I’m pissed again.
“We’ve already established no one has to rape you, Stormy. All they have to do is possess something you want and you spread those pretty legs all by yourself.” I smack her sore bottom again, pleased at how she flinches. “Question is, what do you want from me, little storm? Freedom? You willing to let me fuck you for that.”
“Fuck. You.”
The fire in her tone has me fighting a smile. At least I know she’s getting back to normal. I drop my belt and flip her onto her back. She sucks in a breath when I pounce on her, pinning her wrists to the bed and crushing her with my massive frame. Hate burns bright in her blue eyes, making them sparkle like never before.
“I want you to listen real good,” I murmur, fixating on the way her lips slowly return to their pink color now that her blood is flowing hot and angry through her. “You’re mine now. I fought to keep you and I’ll keep fighting. You owe me answers and your discomfort will bring me great pleasure. Spanking you was the highlight of my day.” I smirk at her, loving the blush that creeps over her pretty makeup-free face. “When we fuck, you’ll beg for it, woman. Your pussy will be so wet and so fucking needy you’ll slide right over my cock, eager as hell to finally be getting my dick.”
“You can go right to hell,” she snaps.
I push her wrists together above her head, locking them in my grip of one hand so I can free up my other. She cries out when I grab her knee, pushing it to the side. I wedge myself between her thighs, settling my cock against her cunt. Slowly, I rock my erection against her, loving how her lips part with a gasp.