Page 79 of Wicked

29

Harper

“You don’t have to do this. Please, Sam.”

I blink against the light shining in my eyes. Struggle to prop myself onto my hands and knees. Smooth metal cuts into my wrists. Plastic binds dig into my ankles.

Needing to see Shephard, I slowly crawl away from the spotlight and closer to the chair set close to the wall, where Sam and his friends are hidden in the shadows.

My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. The thick fog clears from my head. A large body lies at Sam’s feet. Still. Bound by ties and handcuffs, too.

I focus my attention on Shephard’s chest. Exhale in relief when I see the unmistakable rise and fall of his chest, though the movements are shallow.

I was finishing a text to Ryker, when we were attacked, my place going dark the moment Shephard turned to deliver the news. Mike called. Sam was released from prison three days ago. Something to do with overcrowding.

The message to contact him with any change in Sam’s release date was lost in the scramble. Mike’s warning came too late.

Sam and his friends broke down the front door with guns drawn. We were forced on our knees. They yanked sacks over our heads. Shot us up with sedatives. The drug didn’t take long to get into my system.

There was a sudden weightlessness, followed by my body weighed down by deep exhaustion. I was hefted over a wide shoulder. Dumped onto something cold. The rumble of an engine. Moving. Moving. Oh, God, where are they taking us?

Bile rises in my throat. Bound. Helpless. Waking up in darkness untilheshined that blasted spotlight on me. I struggle against the handcuffs and the plastic ties.

The sparring and running until my joints ached and my muscles burned, none of that will help me now. Even if my place were protected with an alarm system or I had an overprotective Shephard at my side twenty-four seven, we were never destined to win this war of wills and dark desires. Sam would somehow find a way to get to me.

Clenching my jaw, I crawl to Shephard. I won’t give up hope we can still come out of this alive. I glance over my shoulder. The front door is a few feet away.

“The bastard’s not coming, love. I made sure of that.”

My body jolts with panic. “What did you do? If you hurt Ryker, I’ll . . . I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Harper? What more can you do to hurtme?”

He’s right. I hurt him, and he’ll continue to hurt me until I’m nothing but submissive and turned inside out for my betrayal of his trust.

I get off my hands and knees and adjust my body until I’m on my butt, facing him with my knees up and my cuffed hands resting on my knees. Looking into the darkness, I repeat my question.

“I sent him a video. He’ll think it’s you and my big brother going at it.”

“Shephard and I never had sex,” I ground out. “Ryker is the only guy I’ve been with.”

Deep, masculine laughter.

“He won’t believe that after seeing and hearing what I sent.”

His hand reaches out. Thick fingers slide in my hair and yank. Tears burn the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to give Sam the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

“The only guy you’ve been with. That guy should’ve been me.” Deathly soft, his tone. “I should’ve claimed what was mine. Do you know why I didn’t?”

He rises from the chair and pulls me with him, his grip on my hair unrelenting.

“Shephard.”

“Fucking Shephard.”

His laughter echoes off the walls, the space empty except for the chair and the spotlight.

“I respected my big brother. Continued to believe his free will to choose who he fucked was stripped from him by a manipulative girl.”

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