Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(45)

His life would be over in less than a minute, dying in a bloody, gushing heap. I imagined it before it even happened, and that sent me over the edge.

No more strong, brave MC princess. Just a scared one, a frightened young woman who'd never been cut out for any of this shit.

I cracked. I cried. I fucking bawled until my sobs echoed off the high rafters, wishing I could be anywhere but here.

Hell, wishing I could be back in my husband's embrace, the one who'd just disowned me because I'd been stupid enough to come here.

Fuck everything. Fuck my life.

I saw the mafia grunt's arm twitch, ready to do the deed on Zee's command. But he held up his hand instead, and barked orders in Chinese, a little more softly than before.

No, wait. Wait.

This little girl hasn't given us good reason to make her throw a tantrum just yet. Besides, this man doesn't even flinch. He's a fighter. Respectable.

Lay off, Yu. Back the fuck up.

We kill a coward first.

I couldn't believe my ears. Was I really hearing everything he said right, or had I just lost my mind with wishful thinking?

No, he'd actually changed his mind. I saw it a second later when the killer backed up, bitter disappointment on his face, fidgeting with his outstretched garrote wire.

Zee motioned, waving his hand to the right. We'll go down the line. Choose the next man. Make this one bleed like the biker trash hogs they all are.

Mercy wouldn't be so kind two times in a row.

“Wormwood? Worm! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Daddy went berserk, screaming as the killer lifted the skinny man's head up.

Wormwood opened his mouth to beg, or else curse the man about to kill him, but he never got that far. The Black Dragon hovering over him pushed his wire deep into the biker's throat.

I turned away as the brother died. He choked, sputtered, bled all over the place. The men down the line next to him screamed or cursed or shook like bombs about to go off while the demon killed him, just inches away, and they were all powerless to do anything.

When the commotion finally died, I realized Zee had gotten exactly what he wanted.

My father faced the ground, several teardrops underneath him on the dirty floor. He'd made a terrible mistake, but he'd been so sure about double-crossing these assholes, and now they were going to kill all of us, slow and torturous.

Zee wasn't kidding around. I'd only seen daddy cry a couple times over the years when he was losing mom.

Now, he did it again, except there wasn't any relief coming. No end to this nightmare, except for death.

The Chinese mobster had ruined him. And that scared me more than anything. It would've sent me into another hysterical, crying fit, if only I wasn't so achingly numb.

Zee's fingers trembled as he lowered his hand – probably drunk on triumph, the kind of glee a serial killer has when he's claimed a new victim.

Take them all away and clean up this fucking mess, he said in Chinese, nodding at Wormwood's limp body, face down in his own blood. We're off to a good start. We can afford a few more days here.

I came all the way from fucking Shanghai to have this foreign devil waste my time, try to kill me like a fool. This isn't just about making them all pay, and making sure their stupid biker club never does this again.

I want to have some fun.

It didn't sound any less insane in Mandarin Chinese. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic, slowly counting as I heard them moving around us, probably taking the five living club members back to their cage.

When I finally looked up, Zee crouched next to my father, his arm around him like an old friend ready to pass the bottle.

“This is how it works, Mister Hard Cock President. When we ask, you answer. Simple, Gil. Easy.”

“Fuck. You.” My father's blue eyes still reflected red, murder, revenge.

“Now, now. I'm going to kill more of your men and I'm going to kill you. But every time you tell us the truth, you prevent us from putting little Miss Mathers under the wire instead. You're a sensible man,” Zee said softly. “Surely, you'd rather watch the men you call brothers die rather than your own flesh and blood, yes? I know how it is. I have a daughter too. She would've been very sad if your little plot here had gone your way and you'd kept me from ever coming home again. Lucky for us, you fucked up bad, and I'm going to make sure it's your little girl crying instead of mine.”

“Elle, darling, fuck...I'm sorry.”

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I wouldn't even listen to daddy's apology, even though he kept moaning it over and over until they dragged him away.

If I heard him say it one more time with Wormwood's blood still tarnishing the ground, I swear I'd lose my mind.



They threw me in an old shipping container with a bottle of water and a bucket to pee in.

A few boxes were left to sit on, empty wooden crates just sturdy enough to support my weight. When I couldn't stand anymore, I finally gave in, and sat on them.