Page 127 of Legacy

After all, I know in my bones that Jesse is looking for me. I know the lengths he’ll go to for the people he cares about. It might have scared me at first, but now I understand it for what it is.

“Maybe,” Aimee whispers, not sounding as sure.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” There’s no road noise.

No sounds apart from the voices upstairs.

“The middle of the desert.”

“And the men who took us…”

Aimee’s expression pinches. “The Iron Sinners?”

“That’s what they call themselves?”

“You really are new to all this shit, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows pull, and I nod. “Let’s just say they aren’t fans of the Twisted Kings, which is why you’re here.”

“And you?”

“The Iron Sinners have lots of enemies.” Aimee sighs. “But that’s not always the problem. Sometimes being on their side is just as dangerous.”

I’m about to ask her if she’s saying she’s with the club that took me, and if so, why they would have her locked in a cage, but the door at the top of the stairs opens, cutting me off.

Aimee and I both pull ourselves to our feet. My head swims, and my body aches from being cramped, hungry, and dehydrated, but I bury it down.

The girl with the raven-black hair does the same, flattening her back against the edge of the cell, laser-focused on the man making his way down the staircase.

I should probably avert my gaze and not draw attention to myself, but I can’t help watching his every move as his boots knock around the dust on the wooden steps.

All I have to do is survive long enough for Jesse to find me. If I’m moved, I don’t think he’ll be able to.

The biker pauses at the bottom step, lit only by the single bulb overhead. I don’t recognize him as any of the ones I’ve seen before, but his hard gaze covers my arms in goose bumps. His broad shoulders stretch his leather cut, and his arms are littered with demonic images.

He ties his black hair in a ponytail at the base of his skull, scanning the room slowly. His dark, beady eyes pause on each of the cages, and when his attention skips to me, my chest tightens.

The musky heat of the room almost makes me lose my balance as I’m hit with another wave of nausea. Gripping the hard, rusted bars behind me, I barely manage to stay upright.

“Not yet, baby.” The biker winks at me, and bile rises in my throat.

I’m both relieved and terrified as he turns toward the cell at the far left of the room. The girl inside is still lying down, curled in a ball. Her blonde hair is filthy and matted, and her sobs rack through her body harder with each step he takes.

She doesn’t sit up until he reaches the door to her cell and pulls out his key.

“Please don’t.” She scrambles to the back of her cell, curling her knees to her chest like there’s anything she can do to stop him. “Please.”

“Boss wants to see you, honey.” The man reaches in and grabs her by the hair on the top of her head, yanking her up.

She collapses against him, barely catching herself as her knees skid across the ground.

“Leave her alone.” Aimee grips the bars at the front of her cell.

But unlike when she helped protect me, we’re too far away for her to do anything about it.

“You can’t.” The blonde stumbles as the biker pulls her to standing; her knees drip with streaks of blood.

“Didn’t take you for a fighter.” The biker grins.

She throws a weak punch at his groin but misses, which only sparks his amusement. He wraps his hand around her wrist, and the snap of it breaking is only drowned out by her scream.

---