Page 65 of Bolt's Flame

“Boots thinks Fiona is Caroline, and she’s come back to him,” she explained. “He took her from the clubhouse.”

“What the fuck!” Horse growled.

“Lock her and Jenny in the roundhouse,” I heard Devil ordering, but I didn’t wait for anything else. I was already outside, my mind set on one thing—getting to Fiona. Behind me, I could hear Horse and the rest of the club gearing up for what was about to go down.

What a fucked up mess this turned out to be.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE PAIN WASN’Tunbearable. Nothing I wasn’tused to, but this time he tied me up and my wrists were raw from the ropes. I’d lost track of time, lost track of everything, really. There was only darkness now, the cold floor beneath me, and the overwhelming certainty that no one was coming.

I lay there, curled up, shivering from more than just the cold. The coarse carpet bit into my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My body was bruised, and battered, but it was the fear that clawed at me, sinking its teeth into my mind, tearing me apart from the inside out.

James had hurt me before, but this time was different. This time, there was no mask of love or regret in his eyes after he cooled off. There was only cruelty. Only the sick pleasure he got from watching me suffer, watching me come undone under the weight of his control.

One bright spot was he hadn’t forced sex on me, he said until my punishment was complete that he wasn’t touching my pussy. That was part of my punishment? Like Iwantedto have sex with him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images, the memories of the things he’d said, the way his hands had wrapped around my throat, just enough to make me panic, to make me believe that this time... this time, he might actually do it. That he might actually kill me and be done with it.

And maybe... maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

I hated that thought.

Hated that it had wormed its way into my head, but I couldn’t shake it. The longer I lay here, the more hopeless it all seemed. I’d fought so hard to get away, to start building a life for myself, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. He’d found me. He’d taken me. And now, I was right back where I started—helpless, trapped, and at his mercy.

Maybe it would be easier to stop fighting. Maybe if I just gave in, it would all be over. No more running. No more fear. Just... nothing.

I swallowed hard; the tears burning at the back of my throat. No. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to give up, but I was so tired. So tired of fighting, of hoping that this was finally the last time.

I shivered again, my whole body trembling from a mix of pain and fear. James hadn’t come back in hours, and part of me was grateful for that. But another part of me—the part that hadlearned to expect the worst—knew that his absence only meant one thing: he was planning something.

Something worse.

A choked sob escaped my throat, and I buried my face in my shoulder, trying to silence the sound. I didn’t want to cry and let him see he broke me. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and bitter, spilling down my cheeks as the reality of my situation settled over me like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

I was alone.

My breath hitched and my vision blurring with more tears. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be another victim, another woman whose life had been snuffed out by the hands of someone who was supposed to love her.

But what choice did I have?

He’d won. He’d always won. And now, he had me right where he wanted me.

My nails bit into my palms, the sharp pain a small distraction from the overwhelming despair that threatened to drown me. I didn’t want to give up. I didn’t want to let him take everything from me. But what could I do? What could I possibly do against him now?

I closed my eyes, a fresh wave of tears slipping down my face as I thought of Bolt. The last time I’d seen him, the way he’d looked at me... like he really did need me to breathe. We had something real. Something I believed in. But now... now it felt like a distant dream. A life that didn’t belong to me anymore.

He wasn’t coming. No one was.

It was just me. Just me and the darkness. Just me and the sound of my own shallow, ragged breaths in the cold and empty room.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard the door creak open, but the sound sent a jolt of fear through my body, my heart leaping into my throat. My body involuntarilytried to scramble to my feet, tried to prepare myself for whatever was coming next, but my ankles were tied.

James stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the light filtering through the cracked door. I could see the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, the cruel smirk that twisted his lips as he looked down at me.

“You’ve been crying,” he said, his voice soft, mocking. “Good. I like that.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. My throat was tight, my body trembling as he moved closer, crouching down in front of me.