Page 400 of The Tempted

I only wish I had found my heart before my mistake.

The van came to a sharp stop causing me to roll around the floor of the truck.

“Son of a bitch!” I screamed, as my welted body ached in pain.

This is it.

Time to fight.

I’m a motherfucking Knight, only Satan can drag my ass to hell.

Someone jumped into the back of the van with me, grabbing my arms and dragged them, tied at the wrists, across the floor.

“I will kill you, after I kill the woman who bore your pathetic ass,” I hissed.

He shouted something in Chinese and then another voice replied in, surprise, surprise… Chinese! I was never eating Lo Mein again.

The van took off, speeding, and I felt the air wash over my naked body, figuring the door to the van was open. They shouted some more bullshit I didn’t understand and then I heard the familiar sound of gunfire.

Music to my ears.

Then my body was thrown from the van.

What a fucking way to go.

“Shit. Riggs!” I heard Bones’ voice over the gunshots starting to die down and the distinct sound of tires screeching against the pavement.

“Holy shit,” Pipe, yelled.

Someone grabbed my body, forcing me to sit up and pulled the bag from my head. I brought my hands up to my face, trying to shield the sunlight that threatened to blind me with my tied hands.

“What happened?” Jack demanded.

“Bulldog, look,” Wolf said, turning my head slightly.

“What?” I asked. “Shit, I have a hole in my head don’t I? Someone untie me!” I shouted, trying to feel for the hole, my hands stilled when I touched my hair—it felt off.

I lifted my eyes to Jack as he crouched down in front of me.

“Who did this to you?” He asked calmly.

“Wu,” I replied. “He knows we took the drugs it’s on camera,” I hissed.

He lifted his eyes to my head again.

“Jack why is my hair missing?” I asked hastily, looking around at my brothers. “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demanded, before I reached for the pocket knife on Jack’s belt and flipped the blade open. I lifted it to my head and with the eye I could open I tried to see the image reflected in the knife.

Someone decided to give my fine self a new do, and by that, I mean a fucking chop job.

I looked like one of those rappers that shaves his mama’s name onto his head.

Bones held my head, turning it slightly to the right, so I could see what they were gawking at.

There was something I couldn’t make out faded into the hairstyle, something legible if you had two working eyes.

“What’s it say?” I demanded.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Bones whispered.

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