Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

xxii.

Riley
"I died for you once, but never again."
—-

I woke up gasping for air. I went to inhale and gagged around a heavy cloth stuffed deep in my mouth. My eyes burned, the taste and odor so damn sweet. I thrashed around, panicking. Not again, not again. What had I done to deserve this? I felt my hands bound tightly behind my back, my ankles and legs, too. Something was pulling my hair, tied tightly around my face. I was laying on something soft, as pillowy as a mattress. I looked around me. It was dark. I stilled completely, trying to let my eyes adjust to the dark and focusing on taking deep, even breaths through my nose.

A bedroom? I focused on my other senses. My fingers felt the smooth silk of covers. Yes. My fingers twitched behind me, feeling more and more terrified. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in awareness. His scent was everywhere.

I looked immediately towards the lone chair in the corner. I already knew the bedroom I was in. I saw him alert, and watching me. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I couldn't stop them if I tried.. I could feel it in the air. It tasted foul, sour. He was going to kill me. He was the Raging Bastards' VP and infamous enforcer. This was it. Hell hath no fury.

I made a noise, letting him know I saw him and was awake. Let's end this, once and for all.

Rage didn't even hesitate. "I didn't think I hit you that hard with my gun. I didn't take in account your previous injuries. I think you might have a concussion." He muttered, sitting forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, casually. The old leather of the chair creaked, as a warning. His eyes were bright and alert, goddamn excited, and only on me.

More tears leaked from my eyes. I'm sure I had a concussion, too. My head hurt so bad and everything was spinning spinning spinning. I tried hard to focus. My gut rolled with nausea. He stole me from the Bastards. Did that mean something? No. No. I didn't really think it did. He wanted first dibs. I moaned and gagged over the cloth in my mouth. He wanted to be the one to kill me.

Rage sat forward in his chair, eyes so fucking bright on me. "Yeah, this isn't ideal, baby. But it is time to finally end this."

I sagged back into the bed, defeated. I knew, God I knew. I felt it. I was so tired of this back and forth. The Bastards and the Reapers. I was ready to be done, too. Death or not. Be with Brynn, or the club. I calmed, my breathing and tears slowing as I felt the resolution in tonight. I'd live, or I'd die. Truth or death. But this would end, and it would end here.

Rage slowly stood, walking towards me and ripping the gag and duct tape from around my head. He ripped out a ton of red hair in the process and I suppressed a scream, wincing, still in the dark of his bedroom.

He stared at me, his eyes dancing. I could sense it from him. He wasn't sad, or scared, or remorseful. He was excited. And I was now his plaything. His target. The sole obsession of his absolute rage.

"What are you doing, Watson?" I asked breathlessly, trying to normalize him. Trying to bring him down a fucking level.

"It's over, Riley."

"What?" I gasped, my voice weak, finally sucking in air now. Sweet air. Merciful oxygen. Never would I take it for granted again.

"It really is almost done, baby. All this fucking bullshit. It's almost through." He smiled at me so serenely that it sent chills down my back. He'd never looked so fucking beautiful. And it was a damn shame.

"Do you know everything about Angel ?" Rage asked, picking me up and carrying me through his house like I was a child. He was gentle, and I didn't dare struggle.

He set me down at his kitchen table, moving me again to a chair; tying a rope around my midsection and yanking my arms back roughly behind me and securing me to a wooden chair. Tears still leaked like traitors from the corners of my eyes. I willed them to stop; I was strong.