Page 29 of Vengeance

Taking a few deep breaths, she tries to calm herself. She’s on the verge of panic, but it won’t do her any good. If anything, she’ll hurt herself.

What can I feel? I can feel my shirt and sweatpants. That means they won’t open up the door, and all my goods won’t be on display for my father and brother. So, that’s a plus. Rather considerate of Scarface, considering.

She’s not naked, but the thought confuses her more than it comforts her. The plan wasn’t to kill me. If they wanted to kill me, or take me like Scarface keeps promising, they could have. They clearly had the opportunity to do so, but why not do it? Why tie me up and fuck with the locks? I don’t understand.

“Wait,” Colt says, pulling her from her thoughts. “My door is normal.”

“What does that mean?” Lex asks.

“The hinges are on the inside, not the outside. Hold on, baby, I’m coming.”

Thuds hit the door three times before beams of light filter into the room and blinds her. Colt turns on the light and gasps, but when her eyes finally adjust to the brightness, she feels sick.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers before turning to shout, “I need bolt cutters! Now!”

“On it,” Tripp says, and he disappears from the bottom of her line of sight.

The rest of the club just stares from the hallway, no one is sure what to do, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the wall above the door at the words written in what looks like blood. Colt tries to pull at the chains bolted to the wall, but they don’t budge.

“Baby, what is it?” he says, his hands on her face. “What is it?”

“Look how easy it is to get to her,” Lex reads.

He shakes his head. “What?”

Her forehead tilts towards the door, and he finally turns. Seeing the words, he mutters, “Motherfuckers.”

“What is it?” VP asks, pushing his way inside the room.

“That’s written on my fucking wall!” Colt shouts. “Look how easy it is to get to her.”

“It looks like blood,” she says, her stomach flipping. She turns to the side, and her eyes catch sight of a flash of silver on the ground next to the desk. “Colt.”

He whips around. “I don’t-”

“How the fuck do we have no bolt cutters in the entire damned garage?” Tripp shouts as he runs up out of breath. “They’re all gone! I’m sorry, Lex.”

“Colt,” Lex says again.

“We’re going to figure out how to get you out of this, baby, I swear. If I have to saw the chains myself, I will. Maybe-”

Pulling at the chains, she sits up as far as she can, the metal pinching the skin on her wrists. “Colt!”

“What?”

“There’s a key on the floor.”

Colt whips around and hurries to pick it up. He uses it on each lock, and one by one, each of her limbs are freed. Hurrying from the room, she leans against the wall, her body shaking.

She looks and sees Jace and Ky continue to try breaking down his apartment door. Jesus Christ, for bikers who are in high-stress situations frequently, you’re not exactly smart on your feet, are you?

Sighing, she walks out to the garage, Colt right on her heels, and she sorts through the toolboxes to find the smallest screwdriver she can find. Once she finds it, she hurries back into the clubhouse.

“Are you going to try and pick the lock? Because I don’t think you’ll be able to do that with a screwdriver, baby,” he says as they pass by the women sitting in scared silence, and Lex just wants to scream at everyone.

“Why... won’t... this... break?” Jace mutters between hits against his door. Lex holds the screwdriver out to him, and he stares at her. “What’s this for?”

“The hinges are on the outside of the hallway, not inside the room,” she says. When he stares at her with a blank expression, she points to the middle one. “Use it to pop the pins out, and you can pull the door off.”

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