Jackson (MC Sinners #7)

19 – Serenity

“ D o you think this will work?” Ciara asks as we come to a stop outside the café that Gerard’s sister works at.

So far, the plan is going well.

We made sure I was visible for a bit out in front of the club before I got into the car with Ciara and left. If Hound has eyes on us, he’ll know that we’re alone and he’ll hopefully take the chance to follow us and see what we’re doing. If not, then this is all for nothing.

If I know Hound, though, then I can almost guarantee he has eyes everywhere.

He’s too smart not to.

“I hope so,” I say to Ciara as we both stare at the café.

“Just make sure you stay in the car, yeah? I’ll have my phone on call in my pocket, so you can hear the conversation on Jackson’s phone.”

I nod, holding up Jackson’s phone. Ciara dials it, and I answer, then she puts it in her pocket and gets out of the truck. I can hear her footsteps as she walks inside the café and then approaches the counter. That’s where she begins talking to Gerard’s sister. At first, it’s hard to hear, because of the hustle and bustle inside, but when his sister pulls her aside, it becomes clear.

“I know what your brother did,” Ciara is saying. “I know he murdered people and set my friend up. I have proof, and the club is going to bring him down. I am giving you the chance to help us, to see what he truly is.”

“You and your club need to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with this. My brother is innocent. If you keep coming around, I’ll contact the police.”

“Contact them, then. That’s no threat to us. I’m not in here trying to upset you, but your brother is killing people. He is taking lives. And he is getting away with it.”

“My brother is innocent, and if you and your little friends don’t leave, I’m going to file a report.”

“As I said, that is no threat to us. We are going to find your brother, and we are going to make him tell the truth. It’s up to you if you help us or not.”

“I’m not helping you,” she barks. “Now leave my café, right now.”

“Okay,” Ciara exhales. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The phone hangs up, and I have to assume that is the end of the conversation. I put the phone down and wait for her to return. I’m off in my own world, keeping low but looking out the window at the cars going by. The door opens, and I turn to ask Ciara how it went but it isn’t Ciara that gets in.

It’s Hound.

This isn’t how this is meant to go.

Not at all.

I open my mouth to speak, but he plunges a needle into my neck. It takes me a minute to register what’s happening and realize that this man is drugging me. The effects are almost immediate, and as he puts the truck into drive and speeds off, my face presses against the window, and through my blurred vision, I see Ciara running down the road.

After that, everything goes black.

When I wake, I’m not in the truck anymore. I’m lying on a cold concrete floor, and the sound of dripping water helps bring me around to reality. A moment or two passes as I try to get my foggy mind to remember what happened. As it slowly comes back to me, panic grips my chest.

Hound.

Hound has me.

Fear washes over my body as I try to push myself up off the floor, but my body won’t work. I can barely lift my head; I’m still feeling the effects of the drugs too heavily. A frustrated little cry leaves my lips, but it does nothing to get my body to work.

Hound has me.

I had a feeling, a bad feeling, that something would go wrong with this plan. I knew Hound would follow us, but none of us thought he would take the chance to take me then and there, not in the middle of a street. We had eyes on us, so why did nobody see him approach.

Did he hurt someone to get to me?

My mind is spinning, and as I heave and look around, I know that I’m somewhere I can’t escape from. A large concrete basement type room with only one small window that is so high I can’t possibly reach it. There is a door, a rusting steel door, and nothing else. There is literally nothing else in the room with me.

Just the cold floor I’m lying on.

The door rattling has my eyes turning in that direction to see it open. Hound steps in, a knife in his hand, and he looks down at me, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, look who’s awake. How are you feeling, Serenity?”

I try to squirm, to curse, to do anything, but nothing comes out.

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t bother trying to get up. The drugs I gave you will last hours, and when they start to run out, I’ll simply give you more.”

He walks over, kneeling in front of me, running his finger over the glistening blade of the knife. “Remember how scared you were of me when you were a little girl?”

I remember.

I’ll never forget it.

Hound, on more than one occasion, was given permission to punish me when I wasn’t doing what Hogan wanted.

He scared me more than my own father, mostly because I hoped, somewhere deep in my broken soul, that my father would stop before he ever killed me. Hound, on the other hand, I never thought would stop. If given the chance, he would happily have killed me.

Now he has his chance.

“Your club really didn’t think their little plan through, did they? You don’t think I’m stupid, do you? I know exactly what you were all hopin’ to do. You forget, Serenity, that I’m always one step ahead.”

I’m panting, and drool begins trickling out the sides of my mouth, but it doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t stop it.

He chuckles, lifting my head. “I promise when the time comes, I’ll make your death quick. I need Jackson to give me what I want first. Until then, you and I are going to have some fun. I wonder where we should start?”

He runs the knife blade down my throat, over the little hollow there, and between my breasts. Just enough for it to sting, but not enough to actually cut the flesh. My heart skips a beat, but my body won’t allow me to move. No amount of force will get my limbs to do anything. I’m terrified, and I can’t even fight back.

“Have you ever been fucked with a knife? I hear it’s painful.”

Sick.

Sick. Fuck.

“We don’t want to go straight there, though. No, I want to have a little fun, first. I wonder how Jackson would feel if I sent him your finger? Do you think he’d take me seriously then?”

I mumble and gag on my own saliva, trying to shake my head, trying to move away, but nothing I do works.

He chuckles again.

“How about a toe? I feel like that would hurt a lot more. What do you think?”

Please.

Jackson.

Help me.

“Yeah, I think I’ll go with the toe. Which one do you think?”

No .

Please no.

Tears roll out and run down my face, but it doesn’t matter how much I pray, I can’t move. Not even when he releases me and lays my head down. Not even when he moves down to my foot and lifts it up. Not even when he runs that blade over my little toe.

Not even when he cuts it off.

The only thing I can do is open my mouth and scream.

Even that isn’t enough.

I’m paralysed.

And he’s going to kill me.

GASPING, I WAKE UP from what was either sleep, or me passing out from the pain alone.

I have never felt anything like the pain Hound inflicted on me when he cut off my toe. I can feel every single moment of it, from the initial burning, the crushing sound as he cut through bone, and then the deep, horrifying pain that came after. Even thinking about it has vomit rising in my throat.

The second I put my focus back onto it, I can feel the intense throbbing that is now running up my leg. Feeling less groggy, I push up on my elbows and stare down at the large pool of blood on the ground beneath my foot. About half of my little toe is gone, leaving nothing but a bloody stump behind.

Seeing it has me sobbing, shaking my head in disbelief.

He’s going to kill me.

With all my strength, I push up to my bottom and take my shirt, slowly pulling it over my head. It’s nearly impossible, and by the time I have it off, I feel weak, like I could sleep for days. Reaching down, I wrap it around my foot. It looks like the bleeding has stopped, but I don’t want to risk further infection.

The material feels like it is made of pure sandpaper.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I grit my teeth, tightening it as best I can, before falling down onto my back again, my chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as I try to stay awake. All I want to do is sleep; the drugs are still consuming my body. I don’t want to give Hound the chance to kill me, but if he keeps drugging me, I’m never going to be able to get out of here.

Hell, I could do nothing when he cut my own toe off.

My body betrayed me, and my mind is a little more broken because of it.

He’s going to come back, and each time it is going to get worse.

Our plan is completely ruined. It doesn’t matter what we do now, we’re not getting out of this the way we thought we were. I pray Jackson knows how to find me, because if he doesn’t, this has all been for nothing.

The door creaking has me closing my eyes, pretending I’m still out of it. At least if he thinks I’m asleep, he might leave me alone. Footsteps come inside, and then stop beside me. “I know you’re awake, Serenity, that shirt didn’t get onto your foot by itself.”

I open my eyes, staring up at Hound.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to cut off anymore toes ... yet. I sent that one to Jackson—I’m looking forward to his response. Until then, you’re going to stay here. Don’t think of trying anything, because I will kill you if you do.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” I croak.

He grins. “Smart girl, but it will be your choice how painful that death is.”

“All of this for Hogan,” I mutter, trying to shift my body into a better position. “He wouldn’t have cared if you lived or died. He only cared about himself. And here you are, pathetically trying to take back a club that we killed.”

Hound’s eyes flash, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s stupid, I know that, but I’ve had about enough of this man ruining everything. If he’s going to kill me, I’m not going to make it easy for him. Swallowing down my fear, I hold his eyes, my expression stern.

“Hogan was my family, and you and your filthy little club took that from me. Just because your precious daddy didn’t care about you, doesn’t mean he wasn’t important to me.”

“Were you two lovers?” I mock. “Is that why you’re so cut up about all of this?”

He bares his teeth at me, and I know I’m pushing all the wrong buttons.

Fuck him.

“Be careful, girl. You know what I’m capable of.”

“Yes, you’ve informed me. Cut off my toes, my fingers, my head, I don’t fucking care. Jackson will never give you his territory, and he’ll make sure you and whatever little club you’ve managed to scrape together are dead before you ever get close.”

“I have what matters most to Jackson,” he snaps, agitated. “He’ll give me whatever I fucking want.”

“You tell yourself that.”

His boot flies out and connects with my jaw, sending me straight back down to the concrete floor. I open my mouth, smothering the scream that is trapped in my throat as my world spins. Blood pools in my mouth as my head throbs from being slammed against the ground. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

I fight the pain.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll make you wish you were never born, cunt.”

With that, he’s gone.

I poked the bear.

And I’m completely okay with it.