Page 8 of Trigger

Headlights appeared behind me, their brights on. I cursed and sped up, trying to get away from the fucking idiot who apparently didn’t know how to turn their lights to?—

Another car came around the curve just up ahead, their brights on as well, blinding me. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut...

And that was it.

I lost control of the beast beneath me.

The tires of my bike hit the grass, and my hands slipped from the bars before I could right myself when the wheel jerked to the left. When my bike tipped, I went down with it, getting dragged down the shoulder until I was pinned between my bike and the tree behind me.

My phone was blaring in my pocket, more than likely Sophia or Trigger calling to find out where I was and if I was okay. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Everything fucking hurt, and my head was splitting. Blood was dripping into my eyes, but my arms wouldn’t cooperate so I could reach up to swipe it away.

The headlights from those bright ass trucks were now shining down on where I was pinned, and a man got out of each of the vehicles. Maybe they were coming to help. I could have one of them call Trigger to come get me. Scorpion could call in a favor to Grim, the president of the Savage Crows MC’s Texas Charter, and have their medic come take a look at me. A hospital probably wouldn’t even be needed.

Russian words reached my ears as the men descended the steep bank. They had guns in their hands, pointed right at me, and one of them was holding a phone to his ear.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.

My vision was blurring, and my eyelids were growing heavy. I wasn’t going to be able to stay awake, and I couldn’t even begin to figure out how to make my brain connect to my arms and legs to move them so I could get to my gun and at leastattemptto save myself. Everything hurt, and the voices were beginning to sound like I was underwater.

Goddammit, I was losing consciousness.

My eyelids slid closed just as the Russian on the left pressed the barrel of his gun to my temple.

And suddenly, I had a fuck ton of regrets.

And the biggest one of all?

I’d run away from the two people I loved most in this fucked up world instead of sticking around so we could work this out together. But that was what I did. I always fucking ran. And this time… this time, it was going to cost all of us.

The Russian said something to me in broken English, but darkness was already dragging me under, and I didn’t hear a word he said.

The second I opened my eyes, I instantly regretted it. The room wasfreezing. Shivers wracked through my body, and my teeth were chattering. One wrong move of my tongue, and I’d bite it right off by accident. My clothes were missing, and I wasbound to a cold, metal table by steel chains around my wrists and ankles, and one was even around my throat, keeping my head down. Bright lights shone down on me, though the rest of the room was dark.

It was like I was on fucking display at a museum.

I tried to take in what I could of the room. A wall of freezers lined one wall, and… was that an embalming table? Oh, fuck. Fuck, I was in deep shit.

I was in a fuckingmorgue.

I shut my eyes again, willing the headache pulsing in the back of my skull to die down so I could think. I had to get the fuck out of here. I promised Sophia I would never goddamn leave her, and these mother fuckers wouldnotmake me break my promise to her.

A door opened, and a man in a three-piece suit specially tailored to form to his body stepped into the room. His hair was more gray than black, and his beard matched. He reached up like he was brushing invisible dust off his body before he stopped at the foot of the table I was laying on, raking his eyes over me in distaste. I curled my lip up at him.

Just because I was naked and chained to this fucking table didn’t mean I wouldn’t go down without a fucking fight. If he thought I’d lay back and take whatever shit he dished out at me, he was sorely fucking mistaken.

“Chase Evans… “ he murmured, his Russian accent thick. More men stepped into the room, and whatever hope I’d had for escaping vanished. I was outnumbered, unarmed, and incapacitated. And these men looked ready to do some fucking damage.

“You were not who I was hoping for, but you will do, I suppose.” He turned one of the lamps above me so it was shining into my face, preventing me from seeing anything beyond it. I cursed, squeezing my eyes shut. Nausea built in my gut, andadrenaline pumped through my veins with no outlet for it to escape, making me jittery and even more shaky. “It is time to show Johnston Trim just who the fuck he is playing with.” I clenched my jaw when someone put out a lit cigarette on my leg. Fire raced up my thigh. I tried jerking away, but it was fucking useless. I was stuck. Immobile.

At their mercy.

“And I’m going to start with you.”

I tightened my hands into fists, every muscle in my body tightening as I prepared myself for the pain to come because there was no escaping it.

Trigger, Sophia… I’m so fucking sorry.

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