Page 33 of Property of Spike

His eyes narrow, and before I can react, he shoves me hard against the kitchen counter. My head slams into the edge, and a sharp, sickening pain shoots through my skull. The world spins for a moment, but I push through, trying to focus.

Chuck looms over me, his chest heaving with rage. “You think you’re going to stop me?” he growls again. “You’re pathetic.”

Before I can react, he slaps me across the face, the impact ringing in my ears. My cheek burns, and my eyes fill with tears, but I bite my lip and refuse to let them fall.

The slap is nothing compared to what I’ve endured over the years, but this time, something feels different. This time, it hurts more.

“You’re nothing without me, Riley,” Chuck sneers, stepping closer, towering over me. “No one will ever want you. You’ll always be my problem to deal with. You’ll always be mine.”

A sob rises in my throat, but I force it back down. I’m done being afraid. I refuse to be scared of him anymore.

“I’ll fight you,” I whisper, my voice broken but steady. “I’ll fight for him.”

Chuck laughs darkly, the sound mocking. “You’re a fool, Riley. You really think you can take me on? Do you think anyone will believe you?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get the words out, he grabs me again, this time by the throat. His fingers dig into my skin, cutting off my breath.

“You’re nothing,” he repeats, his voice cold and final. “I’m done with you.”

The world around me starts to blur, the pressure on my neck making it harder and harder to breathe. My vision fades, and just as everything goes black, the last thing I hear is his voice, filled with anger, ringing in my ears.

“Nothing,” he says before everything goes silent.

***Spike***

“PREZ.”

Skip’s shout cuts through the night like a gunshot, stopping me dead in my tracks.

I turn, my muscles coiled tight, already knowing I’m about to hear something I don’t want to.

Skip comes to a stop a few feet away, his eyes lock onto mine, and I see something I don’t like. Hesitation. Like he’s trying to figure out how to say whatever the fuck he’s about to say without setting me off.

“Just got confirmation on Riley,” he says after a few seconds, his voice clipped. “She’s in the hospital. She was attacked. The report says she was mugged.”

I don’t wait for details.

I’m already moving.

My boots slam against the pavement as I stalk toward my bike, my heart a violent rhythm in my chest. The air around me turns razor-sharp, my vision narrowing to one singular purpose… Getting to Riley.

“We have to go about this rationally,” Skip says, keeping pace beside me, his voice lower now, more controlled. “If we’re gonna get her and Asher away from Chuck, it’s best if he doesn’t catch wind of us being there.”

Rational.

I don’t feel fucking rational.

I feel like putting my fist through the first wall I see. I feel like hunting that bastard down and making him wish he’d never laid a hand on her. But I grit my teeth because Skip’s right. I can’t go in guns blazing, no matter how bad I want to.

I don’t just want Riley back. I need her back. I need them both more than my next breath, and that confuses the fuck out of me.

“I have an idea,” Maverick calls from the clubhouse doorway, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. “But I’m gonna need you to trust me.”

I exhale sharply, clenching my jaw so hard it aches.

I don’t like trusting shit I don’t control.

But right now, I don’t have time to argue.

---