Take It On The Run

Chapter 27

POV: Sloan

When my eyes fluttered open, the earth was shaking. No, not the earth—the sky.

I was on a goddamn plane, I realized with no small amount of fury. Which meant that my dickhead dad had succeeded in bringing his estranged adult daughter to heel.

The entire situation was ludicrous, not to mention well past the point of infantilizing. If there had ever been a line in the sand before today, it had certainly been crossed now. Obliterated, in fact.

Still leaning against the window, I saw that we were flying through a particularly nasty storm, the clouds sparking and booming in every direction. It felt as though I'd crash-landed in the middle of a hurricane. The maelstrom outside mirrored the one raging inside my heart and mind.

The boys. I had to warn the boys before it was too late.

I needed to move, despite the way my body was already protesting. My limbs felt so heavy. But I didn't care. All I could think about was Avery, Sumner, Reed, and Deacon.

Poor D. I couldn't imagine what must've been going through his mind right now. The scene I left behind...broken glass and spilled beer behind the bar...it looked like a struggle had ensued.

Guilt swarmed me. But I couldn't fall prey to that emotion at the moment. Not if I was going to save the men I loved. Maybe I could find a cell phone onboard and reach one of them. Surely, my father had some way to communicate with his shady ass people on the ground.

My head swam as I slowly lifted my chin to survey my surroundings, and I released a soft groan. From the size of the cabin, abnormal layout, and luxurious interior, I knew I was on a private jet, so there was no point in calling out for help.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." My father was sitting across from me against the opposite wall, smirking. I noticed then that his goatee was gone. Without it, he appeared closer to the man I'd known as a child, only a little older, with more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "If you're lookin' for a quick escape, I'm afraid that ship's already sailed."

"Fuck you," I spat. My head abruptly throbbed from the effort, and I winced. Every rattle or bit of turbulence made my stomach twist, although I didn't hate the idea of projectile vomiting all over the pristine carpet. "Jesus Christ. What the hell did you give me? Ketamine?"

Whatever he'd forced me to inhale definitely felt powerful enough to tranquilize a horse. Shit, maybe even an elephant. My legs and wrists hadn't been bound, but there was little reason to do that when I could barely move and we were thousands of feet above the open ocean.

"I'd like to think I'm more creative than that, daughter," he chirped.

My dry retort practically lept from my lips. "Yeah, well, I'd like to think I'm the Duchess of Sussex, yet here we are, two basic as fuck bitches."

I watched him straighten slightly in his seat. "Did you use such colorful language in front of your mother, Sloan? Somehow I doubt she'd approve."

My eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "Don't you dare talk about my mother. You're the reason she's dead, you psychotic piece of shit."

"My, my." He whistled. "Gotta real mouth on you. No wonder Deacon fell in love."

That last bold flare of audacity was the final straw for me. I'd been holding back since he waltzed into my life mere hours ago, but I was done with that. He'd kidnapped me, spied on me, stopped me from saving the loves of my life, and tried to tell me how to behave, who to be with, what to think.