Page 73 of Draven

“Maybe I’ll have some fun with her before I hand her over,” Shala says, licking his lips. “Break her in. Let her know what her life will be like until she draws her last breath.”

I refuse to cower, to close my eyes, to show any kind of weakness in front of these men. Their kind thrives on fear. They get off on it. Too bad they abducted the wrong woman this time. I won’t allow them to break me. They can do what they want to my body, but they’ll never have my mind.

My lips curl back from my teeth, and I look at him as if he’s a piece of dog shit I’ve scraped off my shoe. “You think you’re such a big man, kidnapping helpless women, forcing them to sleep with you and anyone you choose. You’re nothing. You’re no one. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re a rapist with a miniscule dick.” I laugh hysterically.

Blood blooms in Shala’s cheeks. Good. I’ve gotten to him.

“Get her up,” he barks.

One of the men I don’t recognize approaches, and he releases the restraints on my legs, then my arms, before he hauls me to my feet. My calf scrapes on the corner of the table, and I yelp in pain. But now that I’m no longer restrained, I have a chance, and when it comes, I’m going to fucking take it.

Blood flows to my extremities. I flex my jaw, controlling the agony as my limbs return to life. My head still feels woozy from whatever they drugged me with, but with each passing second, my mind clears.

My knees buckle as they stand me up, and my toes curl the moment my bare feet hit the cold, concrete floor. I try not to think about my nakedness or my vulnerability. It’s four against one, with more possibly loitering nearby. Not a fair fight by any means, but I’ve never shirked a brawl in my entire life, and I don’t intend to start now.

“You think you’re above everyone, don’t you?” Shala breathes in my face, the foul smell of garlic and stale cigarettes forcing my head to the side. “But that badge your kind are so fond of means nothing here.” He jabs a finger at the man standing to my left. “Hook her up. I’m going to teach her a lesson she won’t forget in a hurry.”

Coarse hands snare my wrists. I struggle, but he’s much bigger than me, which means he overpowers me easily. The cool snap of handcuffs around my wrists sends a shiver of terror racing up my spine. My arms are raised overhead and fastened to a ring in the ceiling.

He’s coming. Stay cool. He knows exactly where you are. Hang on just a little bit longer. Distract Shala.

Shala grips my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw, then the slap comes out of nowhere. My head snaps to the side, and pain shoots up the back of my neck. Shala’s eyes glimmer. He’s getting off on this, the sadistic bastard. If I get a chance, I’ll skin him alive.

My eyes water, but I refuse to cry or give this cunt any satisfaction.

I face him head on. “You think that makes you a man?” I snort a laugh. “To beat a woman who can’t fight back? You’re a joke.”

Another slap, this time a backhanded one to my right cheek. The ring he wears on that hand tears my flesh, and I feel the blood drip down my cheek. I flick out my tongue, and the bitter taste of iron explodes on it.

My smile builds slowly, my eyes on Shala’s. He’s too busy staring back at me, plotting my downfall, to see me bring up my foot. I might be hanging from my arms with no purchase on the floor, but my regular Pilates sessions have given me a core of steel, and I ram my heel into his crotch. A high pitch yelp rents the air, and he doubles over, cupping his precious balls.

“You fucking bitch,” he wheezes.

Rising to his full height once more, he punches me in the stomach, then sends another blow into my side. I cry out, and I’m furious at myself. As much as it hurts, I peel my lips back from my teeth and sneer.

“That all you’ve got? You fucking pussy.”

He hits me again, and this time I know he’s cracked a rib, but as much as I almost pass out from the pain, this time I swallow my cries. I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction.

Hurry, Draven. Please.

Chapter 28

Draven

I stop my bike a block from the location where they’ve taken Lola, while Pete and Ciaran park behind me in Ciaran’s SUV.

“We go on foot from here,” I state. “Tell your guys to stay back. I don’t want them storming in there and creating chaos before we’re ready.”

For an FBI guy, Pete takes the order pretty well. The only sign I get that he might want to punch me is a flexing of his jaw. I don’t give two shits if his ego is hurt. The FBI will have to suck it up. I’m in charge whether they like it or not. That’s my woman in there.

“Rein it in, Draven,” Pete growls. “You might have clearance, but you’re not the FBI.”

Okay, maybe he didn’t take it as well as I originally thought.

Ignoring the warning, I jog down the street on the balls of my feet, phone in hand, glancing every few seconds at the stationary red dot. I won’t know her exact location until I get inside and figure out the layout of the building, but she’s already been in there twelve minutes, which, by my calculation, is eleven minutes too fucking long.

The three of us silently approach the rear of the rundown structure—an old manufacturing facility that used to make furniture but has long since gone out of business. A sign of the times with everything being imported from cheaper countries these days.

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