Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
The SUV turns onto a darker road. Warehouses rise up around us. The ocean smells stronger here. Salt and decay and something metallic that turns my stomach. They’re taking me somewhere isolated. Somewhere no one will hear me scream.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep from crying out loud. Dad. Kraken. I send silent prayers into the night. Please find me. Please be okay. The engine rumbles louder as we drive deeper into the dark. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. The men keep laughing and talking like I’m already theirs.
But I’m not. I belong to Kraken. And he doesn’t let go of what is his.
The SUV slows. Brakes squeal. Doors open. Rough hands drag me out into the humid night air. I stumble on shaky legs. One of them throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. The world turns upside down. Blood rushes to my head. I see pavement and boots and the glow of distant lights.
They carry me into a warehouse. The air inside smells like rust and oil and fear. My fear. They dump me onto a metal chair. Zip ties around my ankles now too. I can’t run. I can barely move. The tall man crouches in front of me. His smile looks like a knife.
"Get comfortable princess. Your boyfriend is coming. And when he does we’re going to make him watch while we break you."
I lift my chin even though tears stream down my face. "He’ll kill you first."
The man laughs again. Loud and ugly. The sound bounces off the metal walls and sinks deep into my bones.
I close my eyes and think of Kraken. His voice. His touch. The way he held me like I was precious and fucked me like I was his. He’s coming. I know it in my soul. I just have to stay alive long enough for him to get here.
The waiting begins. And this time the fear feels sharper than anything I’ve ever known.
22
Kraken
The night air hangs thick and humid around the port warehouses. Salt from the ocean mixes with the sharp bite of diesel fuel and rusting metal. Our boots move silent over cracked concrete as we approach the target building. My gun feels familiar in my hands. The weight grounds me. Brothers spread out in tight formation behind me. Mace on my left. Ghost a shadow on my right. The rest of the men fan out covering every angle. Engines stay silent blocks away. We move on foot like ghosts in the dark. This is what we do. This is what I do. Take back what belongs to us.
The warehouse looms ahead. Dim security lights cast long yellow pools across the lot. No guards visible. Too quiet. My gut twists with that familiar warning. Something feels wrong. The air tastes metallic. Like blood already spilled or about to be. I raise my fist. The team stops instantly. I signal Ghost to take a side entrance. Mace covers the main door with me. We move in fast.
The door gives under my boot with a muffled crack. We sweep inside. Flashlights cut through the darkness. Dust motes dance in the beams. The space smells like old oil and rotting wood. Empty crates stack against one wall. Chains hang from the ceiling like metal vines. No movement. No voices. No Gunny.
"Clear," Mace calls from the far side.
"Clear," Ghost echoes from the back.
I lower my pistol but the tension in my shoulders stays locked tight. The warehouse sits completely empty. No signs of recent occupation. No blood. No drag marks. No struggle. Just dust and silence. This was not a rescue. This was bait.
"Fuck," I grit out. "It’s a setup. They wanted us here. Away from the compound."
My phone’s already in my hand. I dial the prospect I left guarding Tia. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer. Straight to voicemail. Ice floods my veins. I try again. Same result. The silence on the other end screams louder than any gunshot.
"Mace. Ghost." My voice cuts sharp through the empty space. "We move. Now. Something’s wrong at the compound. Tia."
They don’t ask questions. We run. Boots pound concrete. Hearts hammer. The night air hits cold against my sweat soaked skin as we burst out of the warehouse. Engines roar to life in the distance. Brothers converge on our position. I swing onto my Harley. The chrome feels slick under my palms. The engine explodes beneath me. I twist the throttle hard. The bike leaps forward. Mace and Ghost fall in on either side. The rest of the crew follows in a thunderous wave of chrome and leather and rage.
The ride back to the Miami compound blurs into streaks of light and shadow. Fuck. Streetlights strobe overhead. My mind races faster than the bike. Tia. Alone. Waiting for me. I promised her I’d bring her father home. Now she might be gone too. The thought burns like acid in my chest. I push the Harley harder. The engine screams. Wind tears at my face. Salt stings my eyes. I don’t fucking slow down.