Page 12 of Bathed in Blood

Vanegas…

I’ve heard Jax bitching about them, the empty threats they made against the brothers for cornering the snuff market. The Sullivan streams all but robbed them of their viewers the moment I came into the picture.

Vanegas…

My stomach lurches as my brain knits together the information.

“Lana!” Jax roars as Christian fucks him with the gun. He rams it into him, burying and wiggling it deeper in the same violent, unyielding way I was taken earlier.

Christian chuckles. “The name is Christian, silly, Christian Vanegas, and the princess is no longer your concern. Now, tell me, Jax, are you going to shit on your own gun?”

Like a whip, I’m released from my spot, throwing the heavy doors open as I bolt into the hallway. Vince’s and Jax’s screams pop into the hall for a moment, and I barely catch the sound of the first gunshot. I’m barreling down the hall towards the exit when the doors open again, not giving a single fuck if I’m seen by the few staff or guards that stay on the grounds. I’m halfway through the arched kitchen doorway when my braid is yanked back roughly, sending me colliding into Christian’s wall of a chest.

“Now, now, princess, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I open my mouth to scream before his hand clams around it, hugging me tightly to his chest as he tucks us inside the large pantry. His warm breath tickles my ear as he leans in to whisper, his lips teasing my neck. “Hush now. We have company.”

My struggling ceases as I watch a pair of shoes, the stubby heels all the housekeepers wear, prod through, the shadowcoming in from underneath the opening to our side. It’s open, wide open. All she needs to do is look up from the fucking cart. I open my mouth to bite down on him as she passes, headphones over her ears as she bobs her head along to music I can’t hear.

“What kind of contingency plan is in place for you should they all die? Do you think they’ll release you, princess?” he whispers. His cock is hard against my back, and panic rears inside me again as he shifts. I squirm, fighting him again until he gives me a warning squeeze, tight enough to abruptly end my breathing. He shifts his hips back, keeping his sizable junk off my ass.

He knows it hurts…

“Perhaps you can stay in the mansion, keep up the streams without the Sullivans.”

My chest heaves, silva coating his hand from my ragged breathing as he eases us from the pantry, navigating the house as if he’s lived here for years. The muzzle of the gun is still hot as it finds my back, and my eyes dart to the knife block as we pass it. My neck is wrenched back at an ungodly angle as I strain against his hold to grasp one. The second I do, I plunge it into his back. The familiar pressure of meeting flesh comes only a second before his grunt; Christian releases me for a moment, and it’s all the time I need.

His gravelly voice comes like an omen, a warning. “If you run, I will chase you, and if I chase you, I'll make you regret running, princess!

My sweaty palms slip on the handle of the back door as I fumble with the locks. The door flying open fills me with an obscene and unwarranted degree of hope as I bolt through the backyard, headed for the woods, for the access road that runs to an old trail Anton said they used to ride bikes on.

A woman’s scream billows from the house and next, the ear-splitting alarm. The following flurry of gunshots only add to the erratic beating of my heart. I don’t waste a second looking backas I run, my chest heaving, my lungs burning already. I used to love running, but I haven’t run in years, and it shows.

My bolt through the woods is long, and the early morning light does little to illuminate my path. Again and again, my steps falter, my brain offering what if.

What if I'm going the wrong way?

What if I should’ve stayed?

What if they aren’t dead?

I sob when I see the opening of the trail ahead, tears again bursting in my eyes. “Lewis, Mom!” I don’t why I scream for them, but I do. God, I do, and it feels so good. I scream again, finding that once I start, I can’t stop. I’m screaming, only taking enough of a break to sob or force my lungs full of air. But the hope, like always, is short-lived.

One of my heels snaps off, sending me careening toward the ground. A searing pain shoots up my calf from my ankle as I fumble with the straps to peel them off. My own breathing nearly drowns out the sound of boots pounding against the trail behind me. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the blasting pain as I run. I’m not fast enough. God, I’m not fast enough.

Christian gains on me quickly, blood pouring from his abdomen. When my heel trips me again, I don’t miss the satisfied look on his face.

“Please!” I yell, scrambling back as he slows to a walk. Soon, his tall frame, the shadow of him, eclipses me on the ground. It’s not a physical one, but his very being shadows me in a way I’ve never experienced.

I watch as he lifts the gun. “Sorry, princess.” His shitty apology is the last thing I hear before he brings it down on my head.

6

Placement

Christian

My princess is still out cold by the time I made it back to my car, and I jerk my cell phone from the glove compartment. The pain from her various attacks on me really starting to put a damper on things. As expected, the torrent of texts and missed calls annoy the absolute fuck out of me as they come in volleys, the overpriced modern technology struggling to keep up with the wrecking ball force of my family. I ignore them, opting to call Kallen instead.

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