At the octagon’s perimeter, I search the arena, scanning the crowd. Where is she?
A microphone is shoved in my face. “‘Assassin,’ how does it feel to be the new UFL Heavyweight Champion?”
“No questions.” Blake’s voice draws my attention. He tilts his head towards the octagon’s exit.
I scan the seats where Raven was sitting. People crowd around the octagon. Security pushes them back. My eyes pick apart each person, and, still, no Raven.
“Where is she?”
Blake grips the chain link, focused and scanning. “They’re gone. They were right there.” He points to the row of seats they were in just seconds before the fight ended.
My hands rake through my hair. No. This cannot be f**king happening. My aching muscles contract as my fists tighten. She couldn’t have gone far. I continue to scan the area, hoping her face will appear in the crowd. Still nothing. I’ll pick this entire place apart, one motherfucker at a time, until I find my girl.
“‘Assassin!’ Great fight! Can you tell us what it feels like to have won—”
Blake shoves the commentator in the chest, sending him back and landing ass to mat. “No f**king questions.” Blake towers over the downed reporter before turning back to me. “Shit.” He sounds annoyed as if the guy was nothing more than an obnoxious mosquito.
He looks over my shoulder.
“There’s your mom.” Blake’s voice rises above the roar of the crowd. I follow his stare.
She’s standing at the floor of the arena, on tiptoes, eyes searching. In a few long, purposeful strides I’m in her space.
“Mom, where’s Ra—”
“Oh, Joey, you were great! Congratu—” She moves to embrace me, but I catch her wrists, forcing her eyes to mine.
“Mom. Where’s Raven?”
Her smile falls and her eyebrows pinch together. “Raven? Honey, Candy took her back to your dressing room, just like you asked her to.”
Dread drops in my stomach, threatening to bring me to my knees.
“Fuck me. I knew that skanky-ass ho was up to no good,” Blake says from behind me.
Mom’s face pales and her eyes implore mine. “Jonah, what’s going on?”
I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. But I’m sure as shit going to find out.
My feet burn with unspent energy. I race up the stairs two at a time. Weaving my way through the crowd, I shove people aside when they don’t move fast enough. I burst through the double doors and run down the corridor to my dressing room. My foot hits the door with the force of a battering ram, splintering the wood frame.
“Raven. You in here?” I rush through the room in search of my girl. But even as my hopeful eyes continue their search, I know she’s gone. This was Dominick’s plan all along. Send Candy in for distraction and extraction. Like placing the last piece into a puzzle, everything now makes sense.
I flip the coffee table upside down. “Fuck!”
Raven is in the hands of a madman. My hands rip through my hair. I should have known Dominick would pull some backhanded shit. Now my girl is with a psycho who uses his own daughter as a pawn in his sick games.
Resolve burns deep in my chest. My heart pounds with intent. The buzz between my ears throbs and floods my body. My veins surge with revenge in lethal potency. A plan forms in my head. My lips curl as my teeth clench.
I’m going to get Raven back tonight. I don’t care who I have to kill to do it.
Raven
I float in a void, a black hole, tossed on waves of dark smoke. No feeling. Just . . . nothingness. A faint sound taunts me. Calling me to its comfort. I want to move towards it, but can’t grip consciousness enough to move.
An urgency to fight the dark fuels my blood. I push against the fade. The sound gets louder. The soothing vibrations tickle my ear as I try to place it. The sound is as familiar as my own name. I concentrate harder.
An engine. A small one, sedan maybe.
I push harder and hear a moan deep in the distance.
Is that me?
The engine is joined with the rhythmic beat of music. I strain to hear it and surface from the murky depths. Feeling returns to my body in sections of warmth like a hot towel lying on bare skin. I orient myself. I’m on my side. My eyelids are heavy as I push to get them open.
I wiggle my fingers and roll my wrists. They’re tied together. My mind struggles to place myself. I remember Katherine. My heart cramps. The fight. Jonah. The text. Candy.
Fucking Candy!
Adrenaline fuels my muscles and I force open my eyes. I’m in the backseat of a car. The driver is a man; that much I can tell from the back of his head. No other passengers. I swallow what feels like razor blades. How long have I been out? I clear my throat to speak, getting the attention of my driver. His head whips around and I muffle a scream.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Have a good nap?” His wicked laugh crawls over my skin, making me curl into myself.
Facing forward, he tilts the rearview mirror, his eyes on me. They glow in the light of the dashboard. He looks demonic.
“Where—” I clear my throat. “Where are you taking me?”
His reflection glares at me. “We’re going on a little road trip.”
“What happened? Where’s Jonah?”
“I have an idea. Why don’t you go back to sleep or pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to hear your voice? Or better yet, you shut your fuckin’ mouth, or I’ll climb back there and shove something in it.”
Tears burn my eyes and my throat clogs with emotion. I nod and vow to keep quiet for the rest of the trip.
An orange glow draws my attention. I peer through the gap in the front seats. A clock. The numbers ground me—give me something to hold on to. Just like before the fight, I watch the minutes tick away, along with my future. As the minutes stretch by, I make myself sick. Every imaginable horror comes to mind. Jonah doesn’t know where I am. I’m alone with someone who hates me enough that killing me would be kind.
As many times as Jonah has swooped in like an angelic warrior to rescue me, my predicament is impossible. No one will help me now. If I’m going to get out of this, I’m going to have to do it myself.
The car turns. I tilt my head to look out the window from my back seat bed. My view is a wall of pine trees. We’re in the mountains, and from the sound of the creaking suspension and gravel assaulting the wheel wells, on a dirt road. After another twenty minutes, the car slows to a stop.
Vince exits the car, giving me seconds of relief before the back door swings open and he grabs me by my bound ankles. He throws me over his shoulder like a dead animal. It’s completely black outside. Darkness like I’ve never seen having lived in the city my whole life. There’s a source of light ahead that penetrates the night. Vince heads toward it. He walks up a few wooden steps before we go through a door and into the living room of a cabin.
He turns left and I’m airborne. My wrists bound, I’m unable to break my fall and my head slams into something solid. Stabbing pain pierces my skull and I swallow an agony-riddled cry. Warm liquid oozes down my face, pooling in my ear. My vision swirls.
Vince’s footsteps against the wood floor disappear behind me.
I squint against my throbbing head. I’m on a couch with wooden armrests. The smell of an old fire and wet wood permeate the air. I worm my body around and face the direction we came in. Plain wood flooring and log walls are all I see. This place isn’t set up for a long-term guest. More like a place for a weekend hunter. And here I am tied up like prized kill.
A door slams shut, making me jump. My muscles coil tight, every sound amplified. Heavy footfalls sound down the hallway getting louder. Closer.
Please, God. Help me.
Dominick and Vince appear from the mouth of the hallway. Their fine suits and coiffed hair are a morbid contrast to the natural wood of the cabin.
“Raven, darling, I’m sorry about your head. Vince is great muscle, but tends to be a bit brutal.”
Vince smiles and licks his lips.
“As I’m sure you’ve figured out, your boyfriend won, or lost as it was, so now you belong to me.” He kneels and places his lips just inches from my ear. “Between you and me, win or lose, I had no intention of releasing you.”
My eyes burn. I stare at the man before me whose eyes are identical to mine. The man whose blood runs through my veins, and I feel nothing but pure, concentrated hate.
He reaches into his pocket, and with a flick of his wrist, he’s holding a knife. I kick and pull at my restraints. No!
“Calm down.” He sounds bored and not at all impressed by my fight. He points the knife, gently pressing the tip into the soft skin beneath my ear. “You be a good girl now or I will cut you. Do you understand?”
I nod frantically, forcing the tip of the knife farther into my skin. A whimper leaks from my lips. He watches as a trickle of blood makes a trail down my neck.
“So beautiful.” He swipes at the blood with his fingertip and puts it in his mouth. “You are going to make your Daddy a very rich man.”
Every inch of my body shakes in violent bursts. He slides down the couch to my feet and cuts my binds. Then follows with my wrists.
I flex and roll my aching joints. Sitting up, my head swims. I steady myself, blinking away my nausea. Something tickles my cheek. I swipe at it and see blood on my hand. I’m going to be sick.
“Dominick, may I use the bathroom?” My voice quakes with fear.
He tilts his head and studies my face. I focus on his neck to avoid him reading the intentions in my eyes. He must be satisfied with what he sees and nods.
I push up, ignoring my sore wrists and throbbing head, and search for a bathroom. The first door in the hallway is open. I rush in, shut the door behind me, and try to find the lock. Dammit! No lock.
Panic and fear collect in my stomach, sending me to the toilet on my knees. I gag and cough, arching my back with every painful heave. Bile-flavored spit coats my dry mouth, making me retch harder. The smell of my own blood flips my stomach again. A violent heave rocks my body until my stomach surrenders. I try to catch a breath, allowing the tears to fall freely. I sob with my head resting on the toilet seat. My hand does a quick search of my pockets for my phone. I knew it wouldn’t be there, but desperation has me grasping anyway. I’m stuck. Out of options.
What’s going to happen to me?
Thirty-one
Jonah
“Open the door!”
Nothing. I knock harder.
“Dude, calm down. You’re gonna scare the piss out of her.” Blake’s leaning against the brick wall outside Milena’s house while I bang the f**king door down.
I pound wood again. “Milena. Open up!”
Blake’s expression sours with disapproval. “Yeah, Milena. Open up for the enormous scary guy beating the shit out of your door.” He tacks an eye roll onto his sarcasm.
Shit. He’s right, but we’re running out of time. Dominick has my girl, and she could be getting farther away with every minute that passes. They could be in f**king Mexico by now.
After leaving the arena, we went straight to Raven’s place. We let ourselves in with the spare key I kept after having her door replaced. It didn’t take long for us to find what we were looking for. Who knew an old bank statement would mean more than the Title belt. Finding that felt like winning the lottery and being the first man on the moon all wrapped up into one. The address on that statement led us here.