Page 21 of Hellraiser

I paced back and forth, every thought in my mind dashing with worry. The thought of Dre—the man I’d fallen for—enduring pain and suffering on my account was hard to swallow.

This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone into that fucking bar, Dre wouldn’t be in this mess.

I flopped down on the edge of the bed, my hands quivering with worry. I’d never felt so tiny and powerless, and I couldn’t stand it. I heard the muffled voices of the prospects standing guard outside the door. Their intimidating presence was a constant reminder of my quarantine.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide my tears. The fear and guilt gnawing at my gut were overwhelming, but I knew I had no choice but to keep my thoughts positive and believe that Dre would make it back to me in one piece.

I was boundto a metal chair in the center of the room, my body battered and bruised from the relentless beating. With my hands tied behind my back, I was defenseless. The tight zip ties pressed against my skin, adding to my discomfort.

The chair was anchored to the floor, preventing any chance of escape from the grim warehouse I was in. The building’s walls were crumbling and covered in aged graffiti. The metal beams were rusted, and the air smelled of oil and decay. The concrete floor beneath my boots was stained with oil spills, broken glass, and scattered spare metal parts.

The Outlaws swarmed around me with their mugs hidden by their helmets. They were armed with their trigger fingers at the ready. In front of me stood Cannon, my younger half-brotherand the leader of the Outlaws MC. A cruel smile played on his lips.

“Your father is on his way. And if he doesn’t hand over that reporter bitch, I’m going to make my boys hold your eyes open and force you to watch while I kill him right in front of you.”

I glared up at him, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Like me, Cannon had the same steely gray eyes. It was as if I was looking in the mirror. It was the only similar feature we shared. That, and an athletic physique. He sported a clean fade and a trimmed goatee.

Whenever I looked at him, I saw what my mother chose over me and the life I could’ve had. But I’d be damned if I let that affect my loyalty to my family and my vow to protect Mercy. I knew he was trying to break me, but I wouldn’t give his ass the satisfaction. I was going to stay strong for myself and her.

“Tell me what you know about the article that bitch is working on.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer him. His smirk faded, replaced by a furrowed brow. He delivered another brutal blow to my ribs, causing me to grind my teeth in pain.

“Speak, mothafucka!”

I remained silent, my mind made up.

His eyes narrowed to a slit as he leaned in closer, his deep voice dripping with hate.

“You know, I can’t wait to do unspeakable things to that pretty little bitch when I get her back. She’s quite the beauty. Maybe I’ll have some fun with her before I hand her over to the highest fuckin’ bidder.”

My blood boiled at the thought. My heart startled to a gallop just hearing that mothafucka speak her name. I couldn’t stand anyone talking shit about Mercy. Not in my presence. The idea of her being harmed made my anger bloom.

“Touch her, and fuckin’ I’ll kill you,” I growled.

He laughed, amused by my threat. “Oh, you’ve still got some fight left in you, big bro? Good. It’ll make this a lot more interesting.”

“How many times I gotta tell your ass, you ain’t no fuckin’ brother of mine,” I spat.

Cannon didn’t care. He continued to taunt and beat me, but my thoughts stayed locked on two things: ensuring Mercy’s safety and making it out alive so I could get back to her and tell her how I felt. She’d stolen a piece of me, and I wasn’t taking it back.

Soon enough, I was barely conscious, my body aching from the relentless beating. With my eyes closed, I heard the distant roar of motorcycles and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. My heart galloped in my chest, throbbing recklessly.It has to be them.My father and the Savages had arrived.

Within seconds, the warehouse erupted into mayhem as the Savages clashed with the Outlaws head-on. Bullets zoomed through the air, evident signs of battle. My vision was blurred, but I struggled to stay alert. Amid the chaos I was engulfed in, I made out the blurred figures of my father and brothers fighting to rescue me.

“Hang in there, Son. We’re getting you the fuck out of here,” my father muttered when he reached me, his voice strained.

My brothers, the Savages, managed to overpower the Outlaws and free me from my binds. They carried me to the back seat of my pickup truck. I still felt the adrenaline of the fight running rampant through my veins. They had to stop me from going back in there and killing something.

As we sped away from the warehouse, my father’s body was slumped over in the back seat, and his breathing was labored. I watched him with growing concern, noticing he’d taken a bullet in the side.

“Prez, you’ve been shot. We gotta get you to a hospital,” I urged.

He swung his head, his voice weak but decided. “No time for that, Son. Listen to me. You’re going to lead the club now. And you need a good woman by your side. Mercy cares about you. Promise me you’ll make things right with her.”

His words pinched tears from my heart as I listened to my father’s words, mentally recording them. “I will, Dad. I promise.”

His eyes closed, and I felt him fading away. “I’m proud of you, Dreyson. Always have been.”

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