Kings of Chaos by Eva Ashwood
River
The big manwith the wild, dark eyes grins one more time and then gets up and strides toward the door. His footsteps echo as he heads back up the stairs to the upper part of the house, leaving me alone in the room in the dark.
I can still smell him on me, and I can remember the heat of his breath on my face. He reeked of smoke and burned flesh, and I spare a second to think about the informant I killed outside their club. He’s probably nothing but ashes now, and I bet the big guy liked it. I probably did him a favor by leaving that body there. Made his fucking night or something. He’s obviously fucking psycho as hell, grinning like a loon while talking about torturing me the same way someone else might talk about sex or having dinner or something. But for some reason, I felt weirdly… drawn to him. To the wildness in his eyes, maybe. He’s not the type to back down from a fight, and I understand that completely.
Then I remember what he said—how foxes don’t survive with wolves.
Annoyance rises up in me, sharp and acrid. I’m prepared to die. I have been since I started this mission of vengeance. Maybe it will end in death for me, or maybe it won’t, but that’s not the thing that makes me mad right now.
What pisses me off in this moment is the fact that I might lose to these assholes.
Whatever their issues are, they have nothing to do with me. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and pissed them off, but it has nothing to do with them. I have my own stuff to deal with, and being stuck down here in their shitty dungeon is fucking with that.
They don’t even give a shit about the man I killed, or me, just their club.
There has to be a way out of this, without compromising myself and giving them more information than I want them to have.
I jerk on the chains, hearing them rattle against the cold brick of the wall. They’re bolted in there, and I’m definitely not going to be able to yank them out.
The shackles are tight around my wrists, and there’s not even much room to wiggle them free. They definitely know what they’re doing, and I think about the big guy and the pride and excitement in his eyes at the thought of being able to torture me. He’s done it before. He has the tools for it, apparently.
When they grab someone, that person probably doesn’t get out. But I’m not just anyone.
My double joints have come in handy before, and I think they will now, too. I suck in a breath and start compressing my hands, working them so they’re as small and slender as they possibly can be.
I start on the left, yanking my wrist against the hard metal of the cuff. It hurts like a bitch, the metal digging into my skin, slicing it up a little.
But pain has never stopped me before, and it’s not about to stop me now. I grit my teeth through it and keep pulling until my left hand is free. It’s sore and red around the widest part, but it’s out.
Time for the right one.
That one’s harder, and by the time I have it halfway out, there’s blood pouring down my forearm, and it seems stuck. I rotate my wrist, letting the blood slick the slide of it, lubricating it enough that I can wiggle it free after a minute or so.
I pause when I’m done, holding my breath to hear if anyone is coming. The basement is silent, and I can’t hear anyone on the stairs or coming to the door. Above me, there’s the creaking of floorboards, but that could be coming from anywhere in the house.
There are at least three of them here now, and if they catch me, it probably won’t be pretty.
Stepping away from the wall, I hiss and shake out my wrists. I go over to the cabinets the big guy gestured to before. If he keeps his torture implements in there, then maybe there’s something I can use as a weapon or to get out of the basement in one piece.
I try every door, but they’re all locked up tight. No amount of tugging on the handles does anything to even budge them, and there’s nothing I can use to pry them open.
I’d rather find something I can use to defend myself with before attempting to escape, but I don’t have a lot of choice, so I try it anyway, creeping over to the door that leads to the stairs and testing the knob.
Of course the fucking door to the rest of the house is locked too.
Motherfucker.
They’re smart. Maybe they’ve had a prisoner break out of the shackles before, so now they aren’t taking any chances by leaving the door unlocked. Maybe they’re just good at this and not dumb enough to leave anything to chance. Either way, I’m not going to be able to sneak out of here that way. And there are no windows in the basement, so there’s nothing for me to break or try to force open and climb out of.
I’ll have to wait until one of the guys comes back and then fight my way out. Unarmed, since that one asshole took my gun. I usually like my odds in a fight, but there are three of them and one of me, and the one guy with the wild eyes definitely wasn’t fucking around.
He’d put me down in a heartbeat and probably get off on it. And Blue Eyes and Green Eyes would just let it happen.
I have to find some way to get an advantage over them, but I can plan that as I go.
For now, I settle back down to wait. I work my hands partially back into the cuffs, keeping them loose enough that I can get myself back out of them easily enough. At a quick glance, it looks like I’m still restrained and helpless in their little torture basement, but it won’t fool anyone for long.
Hopefully, it’ll be enough to make whoever comes down next drop their guard.
It’s been a long fucking night. Even before I got mixed up with these guys, there was that whole thing with hunting down the fucking liar who scammed me out of my shot at revenge. That all seems like it happened ages ago now. I can feel the exhaustion dragging at me, so I lean back against the wall and let myself doze off a little, but I don’t drop into a deep sleep.
As soon as I hear the door open, I snap awake, blinking in the darkness to try to get a glimpse of whoever’s coming down.
It’s not one of the three from earlier, but a different guy I haven’t seen before. He’s gorgeous like a model, and as soon as he sees me, he flashes a killer smile.
He looks like the kind of man who knows how hot he is, and the effect he has on anyone inclined to look his way. His hair is dark, but even in the dim light, I can tell it’s thick and soft. His eyes look like a warm amber brown, and I bet there are flecks of gold in his irises when the light hits them just right. He has on glasses, but they just make him look sexy and charming, rather than like a dork.
Everything about the way he moves screams confidence, and he swaggers his way over to where I’m chained up, grinning at me.
When he gets close, I can smell whiskey on his breath and the scent of sex clinging to his clothes and skin. He’s clearly been having fun tonight, and that annoys the hell out of me, but also makes something low in my body go tight for some reason.
But I shake that off and tense up, ready for the fight that’s coming.
“I heard we had a guest,” he says in a smooth voice, like he might be flirting with someone at a bar and not talking to a prisoner in his house. “So I had to come see for myself. How did you sleep?”
I lift an eyebrow at him. Unlike the others, he’s not making demands or threats. But if he thinks he can flirt the information out of me, he’s about to be extremely disappointed.
“I’ve got some complaints, actually,” I tell him. “The room service sucks, and there was no chocolate on my pillow. If this is how you treat your guests, I’m afraid I’m gonna have no choice but to leave a one-star review.”
One of the others, short tempered as they seem to be, might have lashed out at my smartass response, but Four Eyes only grins. Huh. That’s a good way to keep them separate in my mind since I don’t know their names and don’t want to know them. Blue Eyes, Green Eyes, Wild Eyes, and Four Eyes. The fuckers keeping me captive. The ones I have to get through if I want to get out of here.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, practically purring. “We usually try to keep our lovely guests so much more comfortable than this. Has Knox been down to see you yet?”
“Is he the big guy, the bossy guy, or the constipated one?” I shoot back.
He actually laughs, seemingly amused by me. Good. The more he lowers his guard, the better.
“You really do have them all pegged, huh? What would you describe me as? The sexy one? The intriguing one? The one you’d like to take for a spin?”
“Sure. Just dying to,” I say in my flattest, driest tone possible.
“I knew it. All you have to do is ask, honey. And probably tell Gage what he wants to know, so he’ll be okay with me taking you out of those shackles. Unless you’d rather stay in them. That’s more than fine, too. I’d never kick a kinky girl out of bed.”
“I bet you’ve never kicked anyone out of bed,” I shoot back, and he laughs.
“You might be right.” His eyes trace over me, taking in my outfit, my hair, my disheveled appearance. I know he’ll be able to see how tired I am, and maybe that’ll get him to loosen up even more. He already seems plenty comfortable, because he’s a flirt and he’s on his own turf, so if he drops his guard just a bit more, it should be perfect.
“Damn, Gage really clocked you, huh?” he asks, leaning in to look at the wound on my head.
That’s all I need.
I headbutt him with all the strength I can muster, and when he reels back in surprise, I yank my hands free and launch myself forward.
I land on Four Eyes, lashing out at him. With my bloody hand, I give him a good punch in the face, then aim my knee for his gut, winding him.
I get a good few hits in, enough to keep him disoriented, hopefully, and then I bolt for the door and shove it open.
Just as I suspected, I’m in a basement, and the stairs loom ahead of me. My outfit isn’t great for this kind of thing, but I’m not letting that stop me. This is my only chance, so I start running, clattering up the stairs, trying to get to the open door.
There are footsteps on the stairs behind me, and before I can reach the door, arms wind their way around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.
I pull against Four Eyes’ hold, but he’s strong, digging in his heels to keep me from getting free.
“You’re a feisty one,” he says, sounding out of breath. “But you’re not getting away from us that easily.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, all the banter gone now that I can see a path to freedom right ahead of me.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he grunts, trying to drag me back down the stairs.
I rear back with my elbow, aiming for something soft and sensitive. His face, his throat, anything will do. He manages to block the blow and shoves me sideways so that I slam chest first against the wall to the side of the staircase.
My chest heaves as I suck in air, and I can feel him pressed hard against my back, breathing just as heavily as I am as he pins me to the wall. The air is electric between us, and his muscles are taut against me. He’s not as thick as Wild Eyes, lean where the other man is beefy, but he’s strong, and I’m not making much progress in struggling to get away from him.
“Let it go,” he hisses in my ear. “You’re not going to get out of here like this.”
The fuck I’m not.
I lift my foot and kick backward, finding his knee with the heel of my shoe. He makes a pained noise, and his grip loosens enough for me to be able to wiggle my way free and start racing up the stairs again.
He’s not far behind me, though, grabbing me and spinning me around to face him. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to shove him back as we fight our way to the top of the steps.
Four Eyes gets in behind me again, and I can feel his breath hot and heavy against the back of my neck. One hand comes around to grab at my neck, and I reach up to try to force it away, but he gets a grip on my throat before I can do anything.
His hand is big enough to cut off my air, and I try to suck in a breath before he squeezes, but I can feel myself going lightheaded.
It’s hard to focus when I can’t fucking breathe, and he’s pulling me, trying to drag me back down toward their shitty dungeon as he chokes me.
But I can’t let that happen.
I claw at his wrist, trying to break his grip, and I keep shoving my body backward in an attempt to throw him off balance. When I give another forceful shove, he stumbles, missing a step or just losing his balance, and that’s enough of an opening for me to push him away and get free, gasping for breath.
My head is spinning from having my air cut off like that, but I sprint to the top of the stairs and shove the door open. I’m barely through it when the man catches me by the arm in a hard grip, and I whirl around, ready to fight back. I’m not giving up until I’m out of here.
But then a voice cuts in, cracking through the air like a whip.
“You’d better stop that shit right now,” Green Eyes tells me, his tone low and serious. “Unless you want a bullet through your head.”