Page 43 of Hook

"No! Get off me! Stop!" I finally hear her screaming, but she's not next to me. I turn my head as far as I can and watch as Lance and the same two other men who have been making my life a living hell grab hold of her and drag her to the truck that just ran us off the road.

"No!" The desperation building inside of me is intense. I twist and pull at my body, trying to dislodge the bike from on top of me, but the more I pull, the more evident it becomes that I'm not going to be able to get this thing off me. I'll break my bike before I do.

"No!" I let out a weak roar as they back the truck up, Bea still kicking and screaming inside, and drive off.

My head is throbbing, and I feel something warm dripping down the side of my face. The world spins, and I know I'm going to pass out again at any second. I can't. I don't know how long I'll be here before someone comes to look for me. The guys knew I was going to take Bea out, but they also know better than to come disturb us. If I'm going to get out of here, I'm going to have to do it on my own.

I slam my head over and over against the ground beneath me. I want to feel the pain. I want to build the adrenaline in my body.

My vision blurs, and white spots dance in my vision with every blow to the head, but right along with that comes my anger.

Now, instead of trying to pull my way out from under the four-wheeler, I start digging. My nails pop off, and I jam my fingers as I dig with every ounce of strength I have left in order to get from under the four-wheeler.

It feels like it takes forever, but soon I've dug a deep enough hole that I can twist my body out from under the four-wheeler. My back throbs, and I'm seeing double, but I don't take any time to rest. I can't. I have to get back to Bea. I have to get her away from that asshole. He's going to regret the day he ever thought about touching my woman.

I push through the pain and run back in the direction of the clubhouse. Thankfully, I'd been going in a zigzag pattern when we first set out, so I wasn't very far. With every step closer I get to the clubhouse I can feel Bea getting further and further away from me.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Pipe asks as I burst in the back door into the kitchen of the clubhouse. His face is in the fridge, probably still looking for some of Bea's left overs.

"They took..." I grimace as I try to talk and still try to move fast at the same time all the while I'm trailing blood behind me. I'm sure something is fucked up inside of me but I can't focus on that right now. I'll worry about dying when I get Bea back.

Pipe finally realizes something is wrong as he stands and looks at me. "Oh shit! Hold on man. Hold on." Pipe grabs hold of me and tries to drag me down to the floor. I must look much worse than I thought because I can see the fear in his eyes.

"No! Let me go!" I growl and try to break his hold. He doesn't understand that I'm losing my mind. Bea could be calling out for me, she needs me. Pipe reaches under one of the cabinets andpresses the alarm which causes a bright red light to flash in all the rooms and halls.

"Report!" I hear Brick's voice call out.

"In here! Guys in here!" Pipe yells as he continues to get me to calm. I'm trying to explain to him that we need to get Bea but I can't get the words out. I can't catch my breath.

Everyone rushes into the kitchen, they skid to a stop when they see me. Only Brick pushes all the way through. He leans down and I grab hold of his cut. Willing everything I want to say to be evident in my eyes.

He nods his head.

"Boys, suit up. We need to find Bea."

Relief rushes through me and I let my body collapse onto the ground.

I'm not worth shit right now but I know that with Brick and the rest of my brothers on the job they'll do whatever needs to be done in order to get Bea back to me.

Eighteen

Bea

I screamat the top of my lungs.

So loud I swear I think I can taste blood.

I’m in the sub basement of a high rise building. I can’t believe that no one saw me being dragged in here but then again, Lance is behind this so I know he made sure everything was going to go as planned.

My throat burns raw from the effort, but I scream again, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear me. The cold, damp air of the sub-basement clings to my skin like a shroud, and the flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows across the concrete walls. I can smell mold and rust, the scent of abandonment and decay.

My mind races back to Hook, his body pinned beneath the overturned four-wheeler. The image of his frightened eyes, wide with panic, is seared into my memory. Is he still there, trappedand alone? Did anyone find him? The thought of Hook suffering makes my heart constrict with fear and guilt.

I try to move, but thick ropes bite into my wrists and ankles, securing me to a rusty metal chair. The chair scrapes against the floor as I struggle, the sound echoing off the walls, mocking my helplessness. I scream again, putting every ounce of strength I have left into the cry, but it's futile. The thick concrete walls swallow my voice, leaving me in suffocating silence.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door creaks open, and Lance's imposing figure fills the doorway. My breath catches in my throat, and a chill runs down my spine. This is the moment I've been dreading since I first tried to escape him. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now gleam with a predatory hunger that makes my skin crawl.

He saunters towards me, each step deliberate and menacing. "Did you really think you could run from me, Bea?" His voice is deceptively soft, but I can hear the underlying current of rage. "You still belong to me. You've always belonged to me."