Part 3


If you’re new to this serial, you can find part 1 right HERE


Reaper

Reaper watched with satisfaction as the guy called Wolf staggered two steps back, blood pouring down his face and into his beard. She didn’t get to enjoy it for long because a hard body tackled her to the floor. She hit the ground hard, and the air was knocked from her lungs. Pain flared at her side, and her ribs protested the move when she swung her elbow at the man above her. Her elbow connected with a hard chest, and then she was flipped over, a knee between her shoulders as her arms were being restrained. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to fight, but she forced herself to relax.

Fuck.

Just fuck.

How stupid could she be? Attacking a guy in a room full of his friends. Hands pulled her up from the floor, and she was placed roughly in a chair. Her jaw throbbed from where Wolf slapped her, though the pain was minor compared to the pain radiating from her ribs. She didn’t think anything was broken, though, and she pushed the pain aside as the other guy dragged a chair in front of her and sat down. His face was a mask of nothingness, but she knew she was in deep shit. His cut said he was the club’s president, and one of the brothers had referred to him as Phantom.

She knew she was fucked. Hell, she was more than fucked. She had attacked a brother. She would be lucky if she got out of this alive.

Fuck. She should have stayed away. She knew it had been a fucking bad idea. She didn’t socialize well. Other people put her on edge, especially big brutes with weapons. If it hadn’t been because Baby was acting up, she would never have come here. Fuck, she should never have said yes to that damn job. Everything had looked so promising. The intel had been good, the client someone she had worked with before. When she realized the whole damn thing had been a lie, she had already taken out the target. Now she was hunted prey, hence needing her bike repaired. She needed to get back to Melissa. Needed to get her hand on the client so she could serve him up on a platter to the Santiago family. She was just the hired help. If she could give them the real target, they would most likely leave her alone.

“So. Jenny Reaper. Twenty-three. From Minnesota, according to your license anyway. Care to tell me why you’re here?”

“I already told you.” She glared at him, forgetting she should be trying to make nice.

“Right. Your bike sounds wrong. Try again, sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweetheart.” She growled. A deep rasping laugh came from her right, and she spared a glance that way. Wolf was sitting backward in a chair, resting his arms across its back. His eyes were closed, and some older-looking thin guy was stitching him together. The gash didn’t look that deep, but it would probably leave a scar. Not that one more of those would make a difference. Wolf looked like someone had taken a rusty knife and played tic-tac-toe on his face.

“More like a fucking hellcat.” Wolf opened his eyes and met hers for a second. Anger burned in them, and her stomach cramped. If the president didn’t take revenge, she was sure Wolf would. Hell, maybe they would both go at her. Not that it would be the first time she had been tag-teamed in a beat down. Her training at the hands of Melissa had been intense. Yeah, intense didn’t even begin to cover it. Wolf grunted and closed his eyes again as the guy patching him up stuck the needle through his skin again.

“I could numb the area, you know.” The guy said, but Wolf didn’t react to his words. Reaper wanted to roll her eyes. She had learned the hard way that life brought enough pain on its own. No way in hell she would opt out of painkillers if she had the choice. She had been stitched up without, and that shit hurt.

She focused back on the club president.

“So, you’re not gonna talk to me? That’s okay, you will, eventually.” Phantom got up from his chair, and she followed him with her gaze until he walked directly behind her. She breathed deeply, trying to relax her body. The pain was easier to manage that way. She waited for the first punch to hit her, for the old familiar pain to flare through her body. She wouldn’t flinch, and she wouldn’t scream, at least not at first. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though she knew from experience that eventually everyone screamed and begged, even her.

The sound of the cuffs clicking free almost made her jump. She didn’t fight when she was pulled to her feet or when the cuffs clicked back in place, not even when he dragged from the room. What was the point when she was clearly outmatched?

It wasn’t before she was dragged down a set of stairs a tight ball started to form in her chest. They wouldn’t take her down in a basement to smack her around a little. But she might be dragged away from the other men if the president wanted to teach her another lesson. When he opened a door in the narrow hallway, and a small room with a bed and not much else was revealed, every muscle in her body tensed up before she exploded with energy. It didn’t matter that her hands were cuffed behind her back or that the guy was so much fucking bigger than her. There was no way in hell she was going to that bed like a lamb to be slaughtered. For the third time in one day, she was slammed into a hard surface. Phantom’s hard body pressed her into the wall, and his grip on the cuffs made her arms and bruised ribs scream in pain.

“Fucking stop fighting.” He growled into her ear.

“If you’re going to rape me, you better slit my throat when done, because if not, I’m gonna fucking kill you before burning this god damn house down with all your brothers still trapped inside.”


Published by Tea Spangsberg

Tea is an Author who claims to be a Viking, but in reality she would suck at it as she get terribly seasick.

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