CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(137)

"You just ruined my showpiece. That dress was already sold to a high-end  boutique in Berlin! You think I want to go anywhere with you after you  ruined over two months' worth of work? You're insane. I'll tell you how  this is going to go-"

"Ms. Weaver, shut the fuck up. I'm done with this charade." His face  remained impassive, but the muscles beneath his suit bristled. Moving  horribly fast, he tugged my long, unfettered hair, crowding me against  his bike. Wincing against the pain in my scalp, I tripped, splaying over  the leather seat.

Looking around quickly, he relaxed when he noticed we were still alone.  "If you knew me, you'd know how I react to incorrect statements about my  mental health. If you were smart, you would know never to raise your  voice and to maintain proper conduct in public."

He bowed his head, brushing his nose threateningly against my ear. "But  seeing as you don't know me, I'll withhold the punishment-for now. But a  word of warning, Ms. Weaver. Just because I don't lower myself to the  unattractive use of volume, doesn't mean I'm not pissed. I'm very  fucking pissed. I gave you an order, and you've disobeyed numerous times  already. This is the last time I'll ask politely."

Pulling away, he grabbed my middle and with strength that terrified,  plucked me from the ground and plonked me on the back of his bike,  side-saddle.

Giving a mock salute, Jethro said, "Thank you for obliging me. I'm so  glad you decided to climb aboard." With a scowl, he noticed my high  heels. Dropping to one knee, he tore them off my feet, throwing them  over his shoulder. They disappeared in the clouds of decimated fabric  behind him.

I truly was Cinderella, only my prince threw away the glass slipper and  stole me away before midnight struck. My prince was evil. My prince was  the villain.

I couldn't breathe.

Run. Kick him. Do not let him take you.

All manner of horrible situations ran wild in my head. I'd been brought  up in a safe neighbourhood, instilled with common-sense and morals. Yet  nothing had prepared me to fight for my life against a lunatic who came  across as sane.

"You can't do this. I don't want to go with you." I tried to jump off,  but Jethro's sleek bulk prevented me from moving. He loomed upright like  a terrible sentence-a judgement of my past and present. "You have no  choice. You're coming with me. Your wishes have no relevance."

Stabbing him in the chest with my fingertip, I shouted, "My wishes are  completely relevant. You can't take me against my will. That's called  kidnapping." My body flushed with hot anger. "Let. Me. Go. Before I  scream."

Vaughn. Shit, I wanted my brother. The amount of times he protected me  growing up from bees, and badgers, and boys who picked on me at school.

Vaughn!

Jethro shook his head. "It's too late. For any of that. And don't  scream. I don't do well with screamers." He chuckled mirthlessly.  "Unless I'm the reason for said scream and we're in private."

I ignored the ‘scream topic' and focused on the horrible ultimatum. Too  late? What's too late? I wasn't on some countdown where my life ended as  I knew it. I didn't agree to any of this!

I didn't, but maybe father did.

The thought stopped me like a knitting needle to the heart. He'd  introduced me to Jethro-over any other man. He'd encouraged me to go  with him-against my brother's wishes.         

     



 

Jethro might've been able to hoodwink my father, but I saw his true  colours, and I wasn't going to tolerate it any longer. This fiasco had  gone on long enough.

I opened my mouth to scream. I was done being scared and manipulated by a  soft-spoken psychopath. I wanted normal. I wanted a shower and the  sweet oblivion of sleep.

My lungs expanded with a plea. "Help-"

Jethro lashed out, slapping a cool palm over my lips. The first sign of  uncontrollable emotion blazed in his eyes. He sighed heavily, shaking  his head. "I'd hoped you'd be more intelligent than that."

I slapped him.

The sharp ringing of flesh against flesh froze time. I didn't move or breathe or blink. Neither did Jethro.

We stared at each other until all I knew was gold from his eyes. The air  dropped from autumn to blustery winter the longer we glowered, freezing  over with his temper. It could've been a second or ten, but it was  Jethro who broke the brittleness between us.

His cold fingers trailed from my mouth to my throat. Wrapping tight.  Unforgiving. The action showed the truth-the inhuman truth. This man was  fastidiously groomed and softly spoken, but beneath it all raged a  devil in disguise. His touch told endless information of the man he  tried to hide. He was the ultimate in camouflage.

He was iron-fisted and remorseless.

Tilting my neck with bruising fingers, he murmured, "Obey and I won't hurt you. Fight me and I'll make you scream."

Every muscle in my body jolted. The decimation of my dress no longer  mattered. All I cared about was running as far and as fast as I could.  Tears bubbled in my chest; I bit my lip to stop the rapidly building sob  from escaping.

Jethro never let go of my throat. "I'm not here to kidnap you. I'm not  here to knock you out or drug you. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd hoped  you'd come willingly and prevent both of us an inconvenience." Stroking  my hair with his free hand, he cupped the back of my skull. "You're  probably wondering why I said you have no choice but to come with me.  Because I'm a fair man and believe in equality-even between hunter and  prey-I'll tell you."

His breath was the only warm thing about him, scalding my skin with  words I didn't want to hear. "I'm here to extract a debt. The reason for  that debt will be revealed when I'm good and ready. The method of  payment for that debt is entirely up to you."

My brain swam, trying to understand. "What-"

His fingers tightened, cutting off my air supply. Choking, the instinct  to fight overrode my frozen terror. I squirmed, scratching my nails over  his wrists.

My nails didn't affect him-if anything, it made him calmer. Tutting  under his breath, he said, "The first thing you should know about me is I  never forget. If you draw blood trying to get free, I'll only repay in  kind. It's worth remembering, Ms. Weaver."

His gaze fell to my clawing fingers, tightening his own until I fought  against what I truly wanted and let them slide from his wrists.

"Good girl," he murmured. Pulling back, he unwound his digits one at a  time from my throat. Meticulous in slowness. Terrifying in control.

I only repay in kind. His voice echoed in my head. I balled my hands in  my lap, hoping I wouldn't lash out or do anything he might deem  repayable. I wanted to hurt him so much I trembled. I wanted him  bleeding on the pavement so I could run.

Standing tall, Jethro glared, waiting to see what I would do.

I was half his size-and without witnesses, I was helpless. I'd never  taken self-defence or thought I'd be in a situation that required it.  The treadmill trimmed my figure, but didn't give me muscle to fight.

What could I do but obey? I didn't move. I couldn't. Even my vertigo  didn't dare make me queasy when I was trapped in his savage golden eyes.

A moment ticked past before he nodded curtly. "I'm glad you're acting  with more decorum. To ensure that behaviour, I'll share one piece of  information about the debt with you." He ran a finger along his bottom  lip. "You are the only one who can repay. You must come of your own free  will. You are the sacrifice."

I swallowed, flinching at the bruising around my larynx. His level voice  lulled me into thinking I had a chance at escape. Keep him talking. Get  him to care. "Sacrifice?" I instantly hated the word.

His eyes narrowed. "A sacrifice is something you do or give up for the greater good. All of this could stop … you have the power."

It could? The promise of freedom hung in the night-sky, taunting me.

I shifted on the seat, shivering from the cold. "If I have the power,  why do I feel as if you're laughing behind my back?" Steeling myself, I  snapped, "Whatever you might think of me, I can read between the lines  of what you're not saying. What are the consequences if I don't go with  you?"

I felt ridiculous talking of debts and consequences. None of this made  sense, but a horrible sensation slithered up my back. A memory that I'd  buried … from a long time ago.

"You have no choice, Arch. I can't explain it, but you, me, no one can stop this. My only regret is meeting you."

My father huffed, whirling around in the drawing room of our eight  bedroom manor. "Your only regret? What about V and Nila? What should I  tell them? What should I say when they ask why their mother abandoned  them?"

My mother, with her glossy ebony hair and dusky skin, stood tall and  fearless, but from my hidden spot by the stairs I knew the truth. She  wasn't fearless-far from it. She was petrified. "You tell them I loved  them but I should never have given them life. Especially Nila. Hide her,  Arch. Don't let them know. Change your name. Run. Don't let the debt  get her, too."