Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)(69)

At that point, one month ago, I was certain of death. If not my physical body, then my mind. It felt like someone was forcibly ripping it apart from the inside. Images would tear through the shields that I had built up since birth. Images of that room. Of that bed. Of what they did to me in that bed. I had scratched my arms raw at one point, desperate to open my veins, to see if the filth of those memories would pour out with my blood.

Then they had tied me down. That was worse. Being immobile. My mind was already surrendering to helplessness, crippled, and my body was now too.

I had come down enough to realize the reason for it. To gain some sort of coherent thought.





One month earlier


Lily’s hand was tight on mine, resting just above the makeshift bindings they had tied with scarves. Those scarves struck me as ridiculously funny.

I was unable to contain the hysterical bubble of laugher that came out when I saw the vibrant designs.

Lily’s head had snapped up at the sound, her eyes instantly alert as she took me in. Sleep didn’t seem to hide behind them.

“Bex?” she asked cautiously, hand not letting go of mine.

The way she looked at me, the hesitation behind it, punctured me. It didn’t make me stop laughing, though.

“It’s the scarves,” I choked out finally, not recognizing my scratchy voice.

“The scarves?” she repeated, sitting up a little straighter.

I nodded. “Doesn’t it strike you as just… silly? I’m tied to a bed with vintage scarves. With ones that should be on the neck of some fashionista or tied around some stupidly expensive handbag, not used to restrain… me.”

A small, sad grin crept at the side of Lily’s mouth. I suspected it might be for my benefit more than anything else. This suspicion was due to the utter despair which was poorly hidden behind her ice-blue eyes.

“I guess it is quite… silly. I didn’t exactly have anything else lying around the house, and it was necessary.” Her eyes touched on my upper arms.

I glanced down at my forearms, which had been wrapped in bandages. I vaguely recalled some dull pain at some point in the murky past. Scratching. I’d been scratching my arms, the intention of ripping off my filthy skin and letting them out. The insects crawling under my skin.

To the outsider I guessed that looked pretty f*cked-up.

Hence the scarves.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really expect you to have bondage gear on hand, kid.” I winked at her. “Unless you’ve got some real dark side you’ve hidden from your best friend.”

My teasing tone fell flat, even to me. Maybe because the moment I said the words I wanted to swallow them right back up. Lily, my innocent and all-around good best friend, wasn’t the one with a hidden dark side. No, that was me. Only it wasn’t a side, a slice of me corrupted by the black. It was the entirety of me. It was me.

She squeezed my hand and tears welled in her eyes. “Bex, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry,” she choked out, the raw pain in her voice making me flinch.

I couldn’t watch that, couldn’t look at the pain in my best friend’s eyes. I didn’t get respite from the consequences of my dark side corrupting the only person stupid enough to care about me. My eyes rested on the glove on Lily’s hand. The medical one.

Cloudy memories assaulted me at that moment.

I had been fighting. Fighting hard. With every inch of me. Then all of a sudden my limbs didn’t work anymore and every part of me was still. Apart from my mind, pounding at the outer reaches of my skull, desperate to get out.

Dylan’s face dipped close to mine, his eyes alert with something I recognized—arousal, and narcotics.

“We got you now, bitch,” he hissed, grinning. He moved to touch my body, I saw him do it, but I couldn’t feel it. “We’ve got you. We’re going to break you,” he informed me, his eyes darting around as if he couldn’t keep them still from excitement. “It’s going to be brilliant,” he declared.

“Ghuoh phuck yoourseelf,” I managed to blurt out through numb lips.

He didn’t stop grinning. “I knew you’d fight. Just knew it. Pity your little mouse didn’t put up much of a fight. Your biker dog neither. They both burned with little effort,” he told me with satisfaction.

Every inch of my mind stilled. I stopped pounding on the corners of my skull. Dread. Pure dread had me paralyzed in my mind.

Dylan grinned. “That hit a nerve, didn’t it? You’ll get to live with that. Know they burned because you’re a stupid whore who didn’t do what she was told,” he sneered.

Then he did things. Did things I couldn’t feel physically, that I couldn’t stop.

“Your hand,” I croaked, trying to push up.

Lily glanced at it. “It’s nothing,” she tried to soothe me.

“It’s not,” I gritted out, wincing at the pain that was utterly foreign to me. The physical pain at least. My mental pain was a constant companion. “They did that to you,” I stated flatly.

“I’m fine,” Lily said firmly.

I pursed my lips. My body stilled. “Who else? Who else got hurt because of me? Did someone…? Did he…?” My voice trailed off into despair.

“He’s fine,” Lily said quickly, chasing away my thoughts. At least some of them. “Lucky’s fine.” She swallowed, eyes weary. “It was touch and go. He got shot, in the chest, but he’s too stubborn to let that slow him down.”