Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(10)

Then again, no wardrobe would be equipped to defend against being biker-napped and held hostage. The only armor I had was my mettle and ability to be dauntless in the face of certain torment.

“I want some clothes,” I snapped as Rubix pushed me up the stairs of the meetinghouse. “I’m still a Dagger, after all. What’s yours is mine and I demand some clothing.” The lessons Detective Davidson taught me when he prepared me for my foster family came back.

“If you ever find yourself in a situation where help fails, remember you did nothing wrong and to remain strong.”

I glanced up. My new name, passport, and documentation had been completed. I’d been in the state’s care for a few months while waiting for the final go-ahead to locate overseas. “What do you mean?”

“If you get taken, try to keep the kidnapper talking. Get them to see you, not as a victim, but as a fellow human being. Don’t beg or grovel, just be yourself. Appeal to the soul.”

I traced my pink burns. Bandages still covered the worst ones and pain was a constant daily war. “And if they have no soul?”

“Then it’s their life or yours. And yours is paramount.”

Rubix snorted. “You’re demanding clothes?”

“Yes. I’m cold.”

“And you’re calling yourself one of us? When you just told me you’ll try to destroy me?”

I held my chin high even though navigating the steps with my arms behind my back took concentration. “Yes. I know what I’m entitled to. I’m hungry as well. Add that to my order—clothes and food.”

A man chuckled behind us as if I was highly entertaining.

Rubix gripped me harder. “No.”

“If you won’t feed me, then you should know I’ll have no energy to play your little games—whatever you have planned. Oh, and by the way, my feet are bleeding from the damn gravel.” Wriggling my toes, a fresh cut oozed with blood and grime. “Clothes, food, and shoes. That’s the very least I’m owed after everything you’ve done.”

You owe me more than that, you bastard. You owe me your life.

“Fuck no.”

I kept pushing. Each argument undermined his power in front of his men. It was stupidly defiant, but I’d be lying if I didn’t enjoy pissing him off with reminders that once upon a time I was his ruler. “I’m your prisoner. You said yourself you want me alive. It’s your job to ensure I have the things I need in order to stay that way.” My back straightened regally. “Give them to me. Now.”

Rubix chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I said I’d keep you alive, not in a life of f*cking luxury.”

“Food, shelter, and medical attention are bare necessities, not luxuries.”

His voice snaked down my ear. “And you would know, wouldn’t you, princess? Always had everything you ever wanted. Keep talking, bitch, and I’ll show you how much worse life can get. Then we’ll argue about what counts as f*cking luxury.”

Slamming his palm on the large door of the meeting hall, the entry swung open, revealing the same high-lofted, bare-boned structure from my childhood.

Oh, God.

Such twisted memories. Such happy times now tainted with bad. My heart filled with Arthur and the past.

“Come on, Buttercup.”

I shook my head, crossing my ten-year-old sticklike arms. “Nuh-uh, we’ll get in trouble. Daddy says to never go in there. It’s adults only.”

Art rolled his eyes, stalking toward me with moonlight as his ally. “It’s ours as much as theirs. I want to explore. I’m sick of the forest. I’m sure there’s plenty of juicy things to read in those locked filing cabinets.” Reaching out, he touched my hand.

Instantly, the same electricity that only strengthened year after year crackled between us.

He froze.

I froze.

The moon froze.

We were too young to have these feelings. Too young to have found our soul mates.

But that was exactly what’d happened.

Rubix let me go, shoving me away from him and into the cavernous room.

I skidded with inertia as the late afternoon sun became gloomy interior.

“See, Cleo?” Rubix stomped his boot. “Tiled floor. You don’t need shoes. And the air is warm, so you don’t need clothes.” His eyes stole liberties, slithering over my body. “In fact, I rather like what you’re wearing. You sure don’t look like a f*cking child anymore.”

Ignoring him, I drank in the meeting hall where Art and I had explored, stolen kisses, and ultimately planned our leadership when we came of age. So many memories inscribed the walls. So many laughs faded with time.

Pain crippled me thinking of him hurt or dead. I couldn’t stomach the thought of finding him only to lose him all over again.

Please be alive.

My agony morphed into blackened hate, reinforcing my desire to slaughter Rubix and ultimately cure the world of his evil insanity.

I expected darkness and quiet, the hazy world I remembered of swirling cigarette smoke and the anticipation of new conquests. Instead, I was interrogated by blinding overhead lights and thirsted after by a hall of vile men.

Every pair of eyes trained on me.

And every atom inside me sprang to a feverish fear.

“Well, f*ck me. There she is.”