Page 50 of Destroyed (American Street Kings 4)

He held his hand out to me, not saying a word, a gesture for me to trust him and go where he wanted to take me. One would think someone like me would find it difficult to follow someone blindly, but it was no lie when I said I trusted him. Right now, he was the only one I trusted in this entire fucking world—the one man who used to annoy the crap out of me.Irony, you motherfucker.

Placing my hand in his, my heart didn’t race, but every beat slammed against my chest, the blood in my veins changing from warm to cold as it spread throughout my body. But I trusted him, wholeheartedly. I couldn’t afford not to. He was the only person I felt safe with, the only man whose touch didn’t burn. I took a leap last night, and I fell without hitting rock bottom because he caught me with open arms. I had to trust he would do so again.

Hand in hand, I followed him as he led me across the road to the abandoned building. The windows were shattered, torn plastic covers flapping in the warm breeze. The old exterior of red bricks had faded, broken gutters hanging down the walls. We walked through a door barely hanging on to its hinges, and the dank, empty space reeked of mold and dust. I shuddered to think how many dead rodents there had to be rotting in here.

“You know,” I stepped over a concrete slab laying in the middle of fucking nowhere, “if this is your idea of a date, I’ll need to reconsider our little rendezvous last night as less of a long-term thing and more of a one-night-stand kinda deal.”

“Not a chance, babe. You and I are practically married after last night.”

I snorted. “Yeah? And how do you figure that?”

He stopped and tugged me closer, our chests touching. “You’re my bitch now. And if I have my way, you’ll be my old lady for life.”

Those damn butterflies came back with a vengeance, flapping their dumb-ass wings like crazy inside my stomach. “Be thankful I like you so much.” I pulled away, and his forehead puckered.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re the first guy to call me a bitch and still have both his balls in the right place.” He snickered, and I glanced around. “Remind me what we’re doing here again.”

“Come on, this way. We’re almost there.”

He walked in front, with me close on his heels. The farther we went inside the building, the more potent the stench became. I could practically feel the filth stick to my skin, and how my lungs started to crave the polluted air of New York City rather than the smirched oxygen in this disgusting place.

It was eerily silent as we walked down a flight of stairs, our footsteps the only sound reverberating through the deserted building. Step after step, I followed him, our little banter earlier long forgotten as warning started to tighten around my throat.

“Ink—”

“We’re here.”

If I had taken one more step, I would have knocked right into him.

“Where is here…exactly? God, it stinks down here. What is this, the fucking sewers?”

“Something like that.”

“Jesus.” I held my hand in front of my nose, scrunching my face, trying to get rid of the horrid stench.

He pulled out a key, slipping it into the lock tied through chains around the door handle. I didn’t even notice the door before then.

Ink glanced at me, brows knitted together. “Babe, whatever happens, remember you trust me. Okay?”

“Okay, seriously, now you’re scaring me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be scared. You’re not alone. I’m here with you, and he can’t hurt you.”

My heart came to a screeching halt, my spine frozen and blood instantly chilled. “Who ishe?”

The latch clicked, the hinges complaining as Ink slowly pulled the door open.

He walked in first, looking over his shoulder at me the whole time. For the longest time, I couldn’t move. My body urged me to turn and walk the other way, to not set foot in that room. Yet I didn’t know why.

“It’s okay.” Ink held out his hand. “Trust me.”

This time, I didn’t place my palm in his, uncertainty making me hesitate. I took two steps, and I was inside. The second I saw the white tiles beneath my feet, I knew. I knew exactly where we were. Every inch of this floor had been engraved in my mind—from the grout to the tiny cracks at the edges of each tile. For hours, I had stared at them while pain got sliced, burned, and raped into me multiple times. Images of white refused to vanish from my thoughts—the exact image I was staring down at right now.

Air lodged in my throat, my stomach flipped inside out. I could practically feel the iron hooks still lodged in my back, every limb bathed in pain like acid eating through my flesh. The chills that erupted up my spine traveled to every inch of my skin, and I started shivering as flashes of my day in hell screeched with horror in my head.

“What the fuck is this?” I hardly recognized my voice, my lips trembling.

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