No.

I take another long pull from the bottle before nodding sharply. I hear him rustling about, but I keep my eyes trained on the wall beside me. You can do this. It’s just a needle. You’ve got a tattoo, for Christ’s sake. It’s fine. It’s okay.

I take another sip when I feel him wipe my skin with something that leaves a cool sensation behind. I pinch my eyes closed, panting softly. Fingers curl around my jaw and turn my head. My eyes pop open and I’m looking directly into his. I stop breathing.

“If you tense up, it’ll hurt more,” he says, staring at my mouth. Why is he staring at my mouth?

“Just do it,” I grind out.

He lets my jaw go and reaches down to take a needle and some thread. I take a breath, another swallow, and turn away again. My head is swimming from the alcohol, but I still don’t think it’ll be enough.

He doesn’t tell me when he’s going to start; I just feel the sharp, burning pain shoot up my arm. I cry out loudly, but I don’t flinch.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

Then comes the next raging hot prick, I bite my lip, desperately trying to stop the whimper that’s threatening to escape. My entire arm feels like it’s on fire.

Another pull of the needle and I give in to my cries. I make a strangled sound as he pops it out the other side.

“Nearly there,” he says, his voice oddly calming. “I’ve seen men cry over this. You’re doin’ fuckin’ good, babe.”

Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as he pulls the last stitch through. My entire arm throbs after the invasion of needle and thread. He ties the final stitch and then leans back. “You’re done.”

I turn and stare down at the three neat little stiches in my arm. “You . . . thank you,” I croak.

He stands, nodding at me. He quickly cleans up and then turns and takes it all towards the door. Before he reaches it, he turns back to me. “I take it back.” His voice is low and husky. “You ain’t a princess at all.”

My eyes widen at his words, but he doesn’t see it. He turns and exits the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

I guess that means we’re done here?

I find myself dropping off to sleep on the double bed. I want to stay awake, but my eyes refuse to allow it. I’m exhausted and my body aches all over.

I lie down to just take the pressure off my arm and am out in minutes, drifting away from the unpleasant situation I’m in—even just for a moment.

“Hey.”

I flutter my eyes open at the feeling of a hand on my arm.

“Wake up.”

Wake up? I blink a few times and when I can focus, I see Krypt standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at me.

“Wha—”

“We gotta go.”

Go? Go where?

I sit up slowly. My entire body aches. “Where do we have to go?”

“The cops are goin’ mad. We can’t stay here. We gotta go further up. We have a cabin in the mountains. We’re goin’ there until Maddox can sort it out.”

“Who is Maddox?” I croak.

“The president.”

Oh, so that’s his name.

I process the information he’s giving me, and as sleep leaves my body panic takes its place. Hang on; he wants me to go and hide out in the woods? Alone? With him? Because the cops are after him for murder and kidnapping? I shake my head and scoot back on the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. It’s bad enough being here but you’re not taking me somewhere that you can end me as quickly as you met me.”

He raises his brows. “Firstly, if I wanted to end you, I could do it right fuckin’ now, and secondly, you don’t get a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re a murderer,” I whisper. “You killed people that I’ve known for a long time. Those guys in the back of that truck were innocent, some of them were my friends.”

“Your friends?” he snorts. “You have no idea what they were.”

I narrow my eyes. “And you do?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

I shift back further, but he reaches out and takes my arm, tugging me off the bed as if I weigh no more than a feather. I land on my feet and stumble forward. “I’ve already packed some clothes and shit for you, now let’s move.”

“You can’t just take me,” I cry, struggling.

“I can, and I fuckin’ will.”

He pulls me out the door and leads me down the hall. We run into a group of bikers just outside the front door. I notice Maddox right away, because he’s so incredibly dominant. He turns and glares at me; I recoil behind Krypt. That dude scares the shit out of me.

“We got a big fuckin’ problem, Krypt.”

“What?”

“Seems there’s more that are workin’ behind the fuckin’ scenes, Howard has another two boys we don’t know about.”

Howard? Who’s Howard?

“Fuckin’ who?” Krypt grates out.

“One called Tristan, another called Luke.”

“I already knew that,” Krypt grunts.

My eyes widen. “What?”

Maddox glares at me. “Anyone ask you to fuckin’ speak?”

“You’ve killed my friends, you’ve kidnapped me, and now you’re talking about people I care about. I’m not giving you a choice; I’m fuckin’ speaking.”