Wrong Move

13 - Blaze of Glory

Taylor

It felt I had been down in this dank basement for hours. Hunt had dragged me into the van along with Wren and driven us down a dark street, deep in the suburbs. There were three of them, bikers, Grey Hogs. I recognized the GP insignia that one of them was wearing on their cut. That alone had sent me into a near meltdown. The club had sprinkled the nightmare stories about that club to me over the years. A cautionary tale of what could happen if you got mixed up with the wrong people. Hunt had jammed a filthy rag in my mouth, digging his fingers in to my upper arm.

"You're going to behave, aren't you?" He'd crooned, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "If I hear a peep out of you, I might have to take your tongue as a souvenir"

I'd frozen in fear.

There was no flight or flight in me, just my muscles seizing up in stiff terror. You never know how you're going to react in a scary situation, but I didn't react at all. There was no heroic moment of clarity where I put together a masterful plan to rescue myself and Wren. Instead, I'd let Hunt drag me into the dilapidated house and down the creaking stairs. He'd shoved me into the corner, onto a stained blanket, and told me to stay.

He'd laughed when I hadn't moved, proclaiming me a good little dog. Before reaching forward and snagging another lock of my hair. This time he tugged it hard enough to sting, staring at me with manic eyes.

"You do have similar hair," he'd mused, not elaborating on what he meant before he and the other guys tied Wren to a chair and left. One guy had remained, a short, stocky guy who leered at me and grabbed his junk. But it didn't go any further than that. Still, I didn't do anything, I didn't try to escape, I didn't fight. I just sat, frozen, my heart beat thumping as if in slow motion. I couldn't even cry. There was no release, just a gripping shock.

I stared unseeing at the red that was mingling through Wren's messy blonde hair. He'd been hit hard on his head. My gut churned the longer he stayed unconscious. He had stirred once or twice, sluggishly. What if he needed the hospital, and these were his last moments? And I was just sitting on this foul blanket like a domesticated pet. Wren needed me. That was the thought that roused me. I stood up with wobbly knees and moved towards Wren.

"Sit yer ass down, girlie," the guard had growled, but I ignored him, pulling off my hoodie and walking behind Wren. I blanched as the back of his neck became visible, soaked with blood.

"Last warning, promised Huntsman I wouldn't do nothing, but he can't say shit if you don't do as you're told"

"His head is bleeding, don't you want him alive? I'm trying to staunch the hole you opened in the back of his head." I snapped, my fingers shaking around the material. He scoffed, sitting back down and kicking his thick legs out.

"Always had a nurse fantasy" He smiled, rubbing his crotch again "Take your top off and I'll let you play with your patient"

My bottom lip wobbled, and I shook my head. The guard glared, getting to his feet just as the door on the stairs slammed open and three guys tromped down the stairs. One of them was Hunt, and I recognized the face of another one. Michael. He slinked in, like he didn't want to be there. I stared at him, my hand grabbing Wren's shoulder. He groaned under his breath and I leaned towards him.

"It's okay, you're okay Wren. I'm here with you," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the advancing guys.

"Back to your spot, little morsel. The men need to chat," Hunt snapped at me and I hesitated too long.

"But—" I started and his hand snaked out, collaring my neck. He squeezed until I gasped, my lungs instantly on fire.

"I'm not playing, so unless you want to get on your knees and do something useful with that mouth, get back in the corner until I say so," he hissed like a snake, but releasing me.