“This is his battle, not even we can help him this time. Only he can, he must decide to keep going. He’s been in limbo ever since it happened, just living. I have a feeling that having Roxy here will shake that up. Force him to face it once and for all,” Ryder murmurs.

“Y-You knew that when you brought her here, didn’t you?” Kenzo snaps, angry now. “You might be smart, Ryder, but sometimes you’re a fucking bastard. He’s our brother.”

“He is!” Ryder growls. “I’m trying to save him!”

“You are trying to control everything, like always!” Kenzo yells. “For once, stop trying to be in charge, just be there for him. That’s all he needs, not your fucking experiments. We aren’t another one of your challenges to conquer, we are your family. I swear, Ryder, sometimes you remind me of—”

It goes quiet, and I can almost feel the drop in temperature, and when Ryder’s voice comes, it’s deadly, dark, and oh so cold. “Say it.”

“Of Dad!” Kenzo finishes. “You do, I love you, brother, but you get more like him every day. I’ve spent my life fighting to not be like him, but sometimes I wonder if you don’t think it’s just easier to give in. Remember what happened to him, brother, don’t end up like him.”

Peeking around the corner, I see Kenzo disappearing upstairs. Ryder is standing in the kitchen, his head hanging as he presses his fists to the worktop there. “One, two, three, four,” he murmurs. “One, two, three, four.”

He repeats it again and again, until I see his body calming, once more hiding behind that ice. When he pushes away from the worktop, he straightens, once again in control. His face is cold as he buttons up his suit and heads out the front door.

I try to dart after him, to escape, but a hand clamps over my mouth and I freeze, my eyes going wide as my heart slams and my breathing picks up. A mouth meets my ear, the smell of smoke and petrol wafting to me.

Diesel.

Fuck, they all warned me to stay away from him, and now Ryder is gone, Garrett too, not that they would save me. Even Kenzo is gone. It’s just me and the crazy, psychotic Viper.

“Oh, Little Bird, I caught a little bird,” he murmurs, licking my ear. “Tut, tut, eavesdropping like that, naughty little bird. Do you know what they get?”

I shake my head, my gaze locked on the opposite hallway, not daring to turn in case it triggers him in some way. True fear pounds through me. This man doesn’t follow the rules. He kills for fun, tortures for laughs. Wants to see me squirm, to see me suffer. I don’t know what to do, how to act around him. After all, prey always recognises a predator, and Diesel?

Diesel is all predator.

Unpredictable and consuming everything in his path, like the fire he loves so much. Even now, I can smell the cigarette on his breath, his hand rough like it’s covered in burns as he presses it harder to my lips, pushing it painfully into my teeth.

“Punished.”

I freeze as he laughs, pulling away from me as suddenly as he came. I spin, my hand going to my heart as he strolls down the corridor, the click of his lighter loud as he flicks it open and closed.

Fuck.

I really need to stay clear of that man. Something tells me he’s going to be my death. I need to escape before he decides to stop torturing me and just go for the kill.

Because right now? I’m being hunted.

Four hungry vipers are slithering closer, wrapping tighter and tighter, their dark coils shining in the light as they prepare to strike.

And I’m in the middle.

After my run-in with Diesel, I decided to hide in my room, not wanting to be caught alone with him again without any of the others there. They might not stop him from hurting me, but I think they would stop him from killing me.

At least at the moment.

So I did the only other thing I could—sleep. This time, I had no nightmares though, well, not of my past. Instead, they were of tattooed knuckles running up my thighs, dark eyes peering up at me, and when I jerk awake in the morning light, I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. My pussy throbs, and my thighs are soaked with my own wetness.

Groaning at my own mind losing it and betraying me in my sleep, I glare down at my pussy. “You do understand they stole us, right? As in they stole us and locked us up?” I snarl, before heaving up and heading to shower again. Stupid fucking vagina, it doesn’t seem to care that they bought us.

Or that they probably plan to kill us. She’s a hussy and is all like, yes, but they are hot. Bastards. I mean, yes, they are hot. Attractive would be an understatement, they all look like statues of Greek gods. Perfectly carved with abs that don’t come from sitting around all day. They work hard to be the best at everything, and that clearly includes being the best looking.

It’s not fair and has my hormones all confused. I hate them, I do. I want to kill them…but also kinda want to screw them?

Brilliant.

After washing, I brush my teeth and cleanse my face, screw those bastards. I ain’t putting makeup on for them, but I do brush my hair before slipping into some tight black skinny jeans—my favourite ones with holes and tears all the way down, showing off my tattoos—and pairing them with my loose Harley vest, which I tuck in at the front. There, I’m sort of presentable in case I manage to escape.

When I open my bedroom door, I find my boots outside and, honestly, I nearly cry as I yank them on. “I missed you,” I tell them, stroking the matte black material as I lace them up and tuck in my jeans. I always feel better with what Cook calls my ass kickers on.

Fuck, Cook.

I hope the bar is okay. I wonder if anyone even cares that I’ve disappeared?

It’s not like I have anyone who’d notice, other than some staff and people who drink there all the time. They are probably more bothered that I can’t pour them some drinks and have to find somewhere else to go.

Feeling stronger, I head down the corridor, déjà vu hitting me when I find them all sitting at the breakfast table. Do they do this every morning? I slip into my chair from yesterday. Garrett doesn’t look at me, but I see one of his eyes is black, and when I look at his busted, blood encrusted knuckles on the table, he yanks them underneath.

His shirt is a V-neck, showing off those scars I saw yesterday. They were horrendous, he must have suffered so much pain. Endured so much. How is he alive? They looked like strips of his skin had been torn away and sewn back on, creating mottled flesh. My heart actually hurts for him.

From what I’ve heard, something clearly happened to him. But what? And why does that make him hate women?

I look away, not wanting to trigger him again. Ryder is reading the paper, also ignoring me, wearing the only suit he has left, which makes me smirk. He must notice because he raises his eyes before narrowing them slightly at me. “Eat, you didn’t yesterday.”

“Worried I’ll starve to death?” I scoff.

“There are much more interesting ways to die.” Diesel grins at me, sucking a sausage from his fork as he chews, leering at me.

Looking away, I watch as Kenzo fills my plate again, passing me a coffee without asking. I decide to do as Ryder orders, not because I’m being good, but because I’m actually hungry. And it can’t be poisoned or they would all be dead.