Jackson (MC Sinners #7)

22 – Serenity

H e doesn’t come back.

Not for an entire day.

Which works in my favor because the drugs mostly wear off, and I’m finally able to stand. The first thing I do is rewrap my foot. It looks like it’s growing infected, and the redness around my stubbed toe is terrifying, but I can’t think about that now. I can only keep it covered and pray I get out of here before I lose more than just my toe.

I manage to move my body slowly around the room, looking at every inch of it, finding anything I can to use if needed. That doesn’t amount to much, except for an old rusty pipe that I have to tug off the wall, and a few screws. Still, a good stab from this pipe would cause some damage, right? I mean, that is if it doesn’t break before it penetrates the skin, it’s that frail.

It's better than nothing.

I plan my next move, keeping my last bit of water for when I absolutely need it. I should probably use it to wash my toe, but I don’t want to risk dying because I run out, so for now, I’ll let it be. Moving only brings the pain on; as my blood begins to flow properly again, my toe throbs. Take away the drugs, and my body is slowly but surely feeling everything again.

My face hurts, my body is stiff, and the pounding radiating through my foot is nearly enough for me to beg for the blissful nothingness those drugs bring.

After pacing until I’m exhausted, I lie back down and place my hands under my cheeks, closing my eyes. It’s hard to sleep now that I’m in so much pain, but my body is also so depleted of everything good that it has nothing left, and, slowly, my eyes flutter closed, and I fall into a fitful sleep.

I’m woken when the door opens.

I open my eyes, jerking awake, and then I rub them frantically, trying to focus as I pray that it isn’t Hound.

It’s not.

It’s him again.

I don’t even know his name.

He has another bottle of water and a sandwich, as well as that needle full of whatever it is they have been injecting me with.

I almost beg him for it.

Almost.

“I know he’s a monster.”

I blink, shocked by his words.

I sit up, meeting his gaze.

“He’s the only one that can help me. I’m in a lot of trouble. All I have to do is help him and I’m free of that trouble. But if you think I’m here because I want to be ...”

“We can help you, too,” I say, quickly. “Jackson will happily help you if you get me out of here.”

He frowns, like he just doesn’t believe it to be possible.

“Hound would kill me.”

“Not if he can’t ...” I whisper. “I’m not just telling you what I want to hear. I grew up in that club. I know exactly what they are like. Now I am with a club that cares, and I know they’ll help you.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Please, I have a family. He will kill me.”

He looks away, his fists clenching.

“Tell me your name,” I say, trying not to sound desperate.

“Walker.”

“I’m Serenity, but you already know that. I’m Hogan’s daughter, and I grew up surrounded by abuse, some of that came from your father. I got out, and I’m free now. You can be, too.”

“He’ll kill me,” Walker grinds out through his teeth. “When he was in prison, I wasn’t afraid of him, but now ...”

“I can help you. I promise you. Please. Let me prove it. Let me make a call.”

Walker hesitates. He’s torn, I can see it.

Shaking his head, he backs toward the door.

“Walker, please,” I beg. “Please, just let me call Jackson.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, harder now. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

With that, he drops the food and water by the door and leaves, once again.

I bury my face in my hands and cry.

God damnit.

THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN , and I jerk awake, staring into the darkness, trying to adjust my eyes as my brain processes what's happening. The pitch-black room is so deep that I can't tell if I'm awake or dreaming. When a light flickers on, I know for sure that I'm awake—and I'm not alone.

I rub my eyes, my body aching as I push up into a sitting position. Walker is pacing the room. I'm not entirely sure why he's here or what he's doing, but when he turns to face me, his face is black and blue. Dried blood coats his lips, and one of his eyes is completely closed.

"Oh my gosh," I croak. "What happened?"

"Hound happened."

His own father did that to him?

That's a bitter feeling I can relate to.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes meet mine, and he looks shocked. "You're actually asking if I'm okay when you're the one in here, being kept away from everyone you love?"

Sheepishly, I glance at him. "Yes."

He laughs, but it isn't out of humor—it's out of desperation and confusion.

"I'll help you."

I gasp at the words, an overwhelming sensation washing over me as I stare up at him. He's going to help me?

"What changed?" I whisper, fighting back emotion.

"I can't live with that monster any longer. I want him gone, and I want my freedom. If your club can agree to help me, I'll make sure they get what they want and have you returned safely."

"I promise you."

"Do you have a plan?" he asks. "Because he's getting angry and desperate, and if your club doesn't come to the party soon, he'll do something we can't come back from."

Like kill me.

"I don't really, but let's figure it out."

He presses his lips together. "I can get you out. He left me in charge of watching you because he thinks he has enough over me that I won't make a mistake. It wouldn't be hard for me to get you out of here."

I think on it, but I don't love the idea. It's not that I don't want to get out of here, it's that if he does get caught, he's going to die helping me, and I can't have that. No, in this, we need the club. They need to come to us and make Hound disappear.

He can't ever know Walker was helping.

"No, that's too risky for you. I have a different idea," I think out loud.

"Tell me," he urges, "We're running out of time."

"You're going to go to Jackson, tell him everything, and then he will have a plan to bring Hound down. I know he has one."

"He'll kill me on the spot," Walker shakes his head.

"Do you have a phone?" I ask.

He nods.

"Let me call him."

"I can't risk that; if Hound has any kind of tracking on my device, he'll know I made a call."

Dammit, he's right.

If Hound finds out he called Jackson, he'll get killed.

"Let me make a video," I say, my eyes widening. "A video explaining everything. You just have to show him. Jackson isn't a monster; he won't kill you on the spot. I know he won't."

Walker nods, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. He switches it on, then points it in my direction. When he nods, I take a deep breath and speak. "Hey Jacks, it's me. I'm okay, I promise. I need you to help Walker. He knows where I am and he can help get me out, but you need to promise to help him. Please, Jackson, this is the only way. Please help him. I love you."

Walker clicks the phone off, then exhales. "Sit tight, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be careful," I tell him. "If Hound follows you..."

"I'll be careful," he assures me. "I'll bring food and water before I go."

I nod, and he turns toward the door.

"Hey, Walker?" I call.

He turns.

"Thank you."

He nods, and even though one of his eyes is sealed shut, I can see a glimmer of hope on his face.

He needs this as much as I do.