Page 1 of Soul of the Chaos

ALL GUSSIED UP

Sasha

Water dripped forlornly into the bathroom sink while the stuffy heat of the day was giving way to the evening’s chilly kiss. A slight breeze snuck in through the broken panes of the window and danced across our mostly naked flesh.

The reminder of our attire—or lack thereof—only deepened my growing rage. Beneath my knees, the bare floorboards were a soothing constant, reassuring in their permanency. I shuddered to think what condition carpet would have been in by this point.

Though we had recently bathed, the stench of stale sweat, desperation and accumulating moth balls clung to our prison and tickled my nose. This queen-sized bedroom and ill-equipped ensuite—into which all twenty of us had been packed—had become our entire world.

My scalp itched. I’d washed it with soap earlier that morning but now it only itched all the worse. Months of incarceration without proper hygiene products would do that to you.

In preparation for the big night, the Bone Crushers had brought us down into the yard and turned the hose on us, forcing us to wash away the worst of the encrusted dirt, sweat and dried blood. Then they’d tossed a battered hair brush and some scraps of clothing into our room, along with these neck-breaking shoes.

For the last few hours, we’d heard the scum arriving in dribs and drabs below. Greeted like old friends by the Bone Crushers Motorcycle Club members, the guests had wasted no time getting stuck into the liquor.

I wrapped my arms around my youngest charge as she wept in terror, brushing the hair back from her face in a gentle rhythm designed to soothe. It felt strange to allow the contact. Addy may have been one of our bravest souls but I had a feeling each and every one of us was about to find our breaking point as we faced the cesspit below.

Since my one and only friend, Winter, had been snatched from me, I’d taken care to keep my distance from the people in here. Despite my deep-seated need to protect them, I’d also been careful not to show favorites. It hardly mattered now. Our time was coming to an end.

As there was little more our captors could do to torment us, I let the girl cling to me and kept brushing her hair, though the knots had long been worked out.

From her life roughing it on the streets and her treatment at the hands of our captors, outsiders would be hard pressed to pinpoint her age. Addy was a waif, all skinny arms and legs, but strong. Sweet sixteen, yet there was nothing sweet left in her. Fate had proven herself a cruel bitch as far as Addy and her sister were concerned, so the little spitfire was determined to meet her head on.

For the most part, the duo had avoided the wrong sort of attention before coming up against the Bone Crushers. Unfortunately, Addy had gotten cocky and picked the wrong pocket. Talia had hit the wolf who’d stopped them with a tire iron so they could make their escape, but a week later they were grabbed. Right off the main drag of Ivywood.

It was a common enough story. The skin trade preyed on those who had slipped through the cracks of society or owed a debt they couldn’t repay.

Though Addy had been full of fire when she came in, she soon saw enough to know that she and her sister had landed in very deep shit. Today, her courage had completely deserted her and I hated to see her reduced to a quivering bundle of snot and nerves.

A mix of teddys, bra and panty sets, and basically whatever else might constitute a biker’s wet dream had been tossed into our room after the impromptu shower. The girl was dressed in a sleazy lace camisole and panties, her dirty feet stuffed into child-sized high heels encrusted with sparkling unicorns. It was the best we could do to cover her up given the circumstances.

The sight made me want to gag but I refused to show my fear.

She—and the rest of the poor souls locked up alongside me—needed my strength. My rage. My absolute certainty in the face of this hopelessness that somehow, some way, we were going to pull through this. That we would escape destiny’s vicious claws. And survive.

I refused to let the outcome be anything less.

And yet, how much longer could I go on kidding myself? The sun was about to drop below the horizon and then true evil would reign.

I glared at the prospect leaning against the door. It was the only viable escape route, unless we felt like risking the window. And while the drop might not kill us, hitting that packed earth from two stories up would surely break our legs.

Fuck, I’d never hated anyone as much as I did the guy wilting in the face of my wrath. I wasn’t about to pull my punches, either. Coward couldn’t even meet my gaze, his eyes kept sliding back to his phone like he was expecting someone to pull the ripcord.

I knew he was little more than a kid himself—playing at being a man and in way over his head—but he was the one standing in front of our freedom right now.

So, for that fact alone, he was gonna taste the shit sandwich he was forcing us to eat.

The sound of snarling revelry and the stench of stale beer wafted up from the clubhouse bar below making my blood boil and my stomach clench in revolt. Those fuckers couldn’t wait to have us paraded in front of them. Fresh meat for the slaughter. Proving what I’d always been trained to think about their kind but secretly hoped wasn’t true.

Wolves were no better than animals. In fact, they were worse. Way worse. That’s what I’d been brought up to believe. So far, personal experience hadn’t done much to prove my bigoted uncle wrong. Animals didn’t get off on tyranny and abject displays of cruelty, but these psychos did. Sadly, I knew that some humans—my own blood included—would have fit right in.

So although our guard, Benji, had been the only one to show us any kindness, I was still doing my best to strike that fucker dead with my eyes. I was angry with him for a whole different reason than why I wanted to kill the MC’s psychotic alpha.

Benji had done something far worse than the rest of the Bone Crushers combined.

He’d made me hope.

That’s right. While I’d been playing the fierce bitch role for those too terrified to survive without someone to lean on, somehow I’d been stupid enough to drink the kool aid. A small part of me had bought Benji’s ‘nice guy’ act into holding onto the tiniest glimmer of hope.

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