Page 89 of Her Remarkable Protector

I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. He releases my hair with a scoff, but not without twisting my body against the cuffs holding my wrists. My weight shifts painfully, the steel digging into already raw skin. I grimace, trying to steady myself, my muscles screaming with every movement.

“The problem with a big guy,” Damon mocks, his voice dripping with fake sympathy, “is that all that mass just works against you when you’re strung up like this. Hurts, doesn’t it?”

I bite down hard, swallowing the groan clawing at my throat. I won’t give him the pleasure of hearing it, even though I know he’s right. My strength, my size—everything that usually gives me an edge—is my enemy now.

Damon taps the bat against his palm, almost thoughtful. “You know,” he says, his tone shifting to one of cruel nostalgia, “I’d been looking for you. Then I heard you were off playing hero for your country—a SEAL, no less—and poof! You vanished. Mira hiring you was just dumb luck. When I found out you were in town, I wanted to do exactly this to you.”

The bat swings, hard and fast, slamming into my ribs. Pain explodes through my torso, and this time I can’t stop the low groan that escapes. Worse than the impact is the way my body swings helplessly from the chains, the agony in my wrists doubling as the cuffs bite deeper.

Damon grins, pleased with himself. “I’d wanted to do that when I saw you in your shiny suit, in that shiny little office of yours. But Mira convinced me you wouldn’t talk. Said we’d be better off watching you, letting you lead us to Oakley and my baby. Stupid bitch.” He scoffs, pacing again, the bat dragging along the ground. “I shouldn’t have listened to her. Should’ve done this sooner.”

I glare at him. “Honor and I are a class above you two—smarter, stronger, better in every way.”

The bat comes down again, this time with a crack that sends fire ripping through my side. A rib, maybe more. I taste blood as I grind my teeth, refusing to let him hear the scream threatening to break free.

“You would’ve talked,” Damon says, leaning closer. “You would’ve cracked. But I let Mira call the shots, and look where that got her—rotting away in Billings. Women’s prison. She’ll be better off there than as a Stone’s wife.”

I smirk. “Rotting? Sounds like a step up from being stuck with you.”

Damon’s grin falters for just a second before he recovers, climbing onto a raised platform like an executioner. From up there, he looks down on me, his arrogance practically dripping from every word. “You know, Samson, after I get Oakley and Damon Jr. back, you’ll be finished. Completely. Nothing left of you.”

I grit my teeth, staring at him despite the ache in my body. The bastard doesn’t even realize how delusional he sounds. Damon Jr.? Really? Honor was right—he’d want to name the kid after himself. What a pathetic excuse for a man.

“Actually,” Damon adds, smirking as if the thought just occurred to him, “forget that. I think I want you alive just a little while longer. Long enough to see what I’ll do to your precious Honor. Long enough to feel it.”

My blood burns, rage rising to a boil. Never. Over my dead body. He’s not going to lay a single finger on her. I force myself to breathe, to keep control. Honor’s smart—smart enough to stay one step ahead of him. And if the worst comes, I know my Red Mark brothers will find her. They’ll protect her. I have to believe that.

Damon draws something out from behind his jacket. A knife glints, its point aimed directly at my face. “Tell me where the bitch is!”

“Not a chance!”

Damon swings the blade. I shut my eyes, my muscles tense involuntarily, refusing to feel where it has landed.

After a few seconds, I feel it, the searing agony that shoots through my shoulder. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to cry out.

“I should’ve killed you long ago!” The desperation in his voice almost drowns out the pounding in my chest. “You were always his favorite, weren’t you? Chase this, Chase that. But I treated you like a little brother. And a real brother doesn’t betray his own.”

I let out a dry laugh. “So this is about your old man? You’re jealous of me?”

His eyes flare with rage as he swings the knife again, harder this time. I see it coming, the blade slams into my biceps, pain exploding like a firework. A cry tears from my throat, only to be drowned out by the clanging of the chains rattling above me.

Fuckers!

I bite down on the pain. The metal cuffs feel even tighter around my wrists, the tremors in my body betraying my resolve.

“Where is she?” he yells.

“Keep dreaming, Stone!” I spit back.

His face twists, his rage shaking the edges of his words. “You were pissing yourself, Chase Samson. Don’t forget—I saved you once.”

Our eyes lock, and for a fleeting moment, the memory flashes—Damon standing between me and those out-of-town butchers, taking them down before their blades could find my flesh. The irony isn’t lost on me.

He leans closer, his voice a venomous whisper now. “Let me save you this one last time. Tell me where she is.”

I hold his gaze, steel in my words. “I will never give her up.”

The tip of his blade dances dangerously close to my eye, the glint has blurred.

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