Page 99 of Daughters of Chaos

Mason lets out a deep sigh. "You won't get any sleep that way. Come on, let me take you back to your room for a few hours. If she wakes up while we're there, Jesse will come get us." He shoots a pointed look at Jesse, who immediately nods in confirmation.

"Yeah," he tells me. "I'll let you know the second she wakes up. Doc was pretty adamant that she needed rest, so I'm sure she'll be out for a while. Go get some sleep. We'll stay with her." He tilts his head to where Reaper is still keeping guard.

"See," Mason pleads, "she's safe, Nix. They won't let anything happen to her. I'll even send more guys to guard the room while we're gone."

I bite my bottom lip, feeling the veil of sleep trying to take over again. I don't want to leave her, but my eyes won't stay awake. Maybe just a short nap . . .

My eyes find Jesse's and he gives me a small smile. "We've got her, Nix," he promises as Mason wraps a warm arm around me.

A tired sigh leaves my lips as I nod in agreement. "Okay, but only for a little while, but the second she wakes up—"

Jesse holds out his hands as he finishes my sentence. "We'll let you know. I swear."

Reluctantly, I let Mason sweep me away back to my room. He gets us settled in bed, and the minute my head hits the pillow, I fall into an exhausted abyss.

59

Raven

Gunshots. Breaking glass. Shouting. That's all I could hear. Flashes of light and people I knew ran through my memory. Everything was fuzzy, and my body felt so heavy. I couldn't move, couldn't think.

A shock of red hair caught my eye. Nix. I had to get to her, had to keep her safe. Another flash and wave of broken glass. The door between us snapped shut, separating us. But there was no room for me. I had to keep her safe.

A groan of agony and blood, so much blood. One of the prospects . . . I had to help him.

My vision grew dark, fading in and out, and when it cleared, I was staring at someone I didn't know—a stranger. He wasn't on our side. His vicious smirk told me that.

I heard his voice, that familiar, menacing voice. Dom.

No!

It was hard to breathe. I was choking, suffocating, then it all went black.

My head hurt, and I could hear voices nearby, so many voices. A door opened, and more strangers came toward me. My adrenaline kicked in; I had to fight. They weren't good men; they weren't our men.

Closer and closer they came. Their mouths moved, but I couldn't make out the words. The way the one's eyes moved, though, and the way he licked his lips . . . I knew enough by reading his face what he had planned.

Anger. Cold, hard, bitter anger coursed through me as he came closer. His mouth was still moving, but I couldn't hear him, not in this memory. All I knew was what came next—his downfall or mine.

And I wouldn't let it be mine.

Hinges creaked—that damn door again.My eyes were closed, but I wasn't sleeping. It was all the rest I'd allow myself. If I gave in to fatigue, that would be the end. They'd win, and that was the last thing I wanted. I'd stay up as many hours, as many days as it took to get free. I wouldn't let them win.

Heavy footsteps grew closer.Hisfootsteps—the one who thought he could take what he wanted, the one whose nose I'd broken. He didn't take it well, lashing out as blood poured downhis face. He fought like a crazed animal, swinging his arms like a rabid ape. A couple of shots landed, but nothing like what I unleashed.

It surprised them that I could fight back so well. They didn't like it. It frustrated them and made them fight like amateurs. That first fight was easy. They backed off fast when I broke another one's finger and shattered the last one's testicles.

How satisfying it was to hear their screams—these men who got off on rape and torture. It felt good to take them down a few pegs. It felt good to watch them bleed.

The next few times were harder. They brought someone I recognized—Dom—and he was all too happy to spar. He fought harder, better than the others. He was more skilled, more calculated. He landed the most blows—to my face, my torso, my arms. He was the hardest to fight, but he didn't get what he wanted.

None of them did, not really.

What's a palm full of tit when what they truly wanted was further south?

They could have used weapons to make me submit, but they enjoyed the fight too much, got off on it. They wanted to wear me down and drag out their torture. They aimed to break my spirit, but I wouldn’t let them.

Days blended like that. Rest my eyes while I listened for their return, then fight with all I had until they decided to give up.

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