Ryder (Savage Wolves MC) #3

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I think over what he's said. As long as they're not harmed, can I resolve to understand their methods?

"How do we know they won't still go to the police and file missing persons reports?"

He tilts his head. "The guys can be very persuasive. It's unlikely the families will go to the cops, but if they do, the mercenaries will remind them what happens if they do. Trust me, Tal, when I say they're good at their job, I mean they're good at their job."

Well that's not terrifying at all.

"Guess I wouldn't want to ever get myself tied up in anything where they'll come after me."

Ryder snorts, pushing his hand between my knees and sliding it along my inner thigh, his pinky getting dangerously close to the heat at the apex of my thighs. "No, you wouldn't want that. Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Now I snort in laughter. "You'll protect me? Oh, Ryder," I call dramatically, straightening my spine and placing one of my hands over my heart and the other with the back of my palm to my forehead, "Ryder, save me. Whatever will I do without such a strong man to rescue me?" I mock fainting and he pulls me into his chest, rubbing his hand through my hair and ruffling the strands. "Hey!" I bat at his hands, giggling into his chest.

"Okay, smartass, you don't need saving. Now that that's been established, do you know what you want to do with them? Do you want to go tomorrow? Wait? Say the word and I can make it happen."

I pull away, but still stay close enough that I could lean in and kiss him if I wanted to. Being cocooned in his personal space feels so much better than it once did. Before I didn't like anyone being this close, now, I crave this feeling.

"I wish I could make it last forever. Their torture, I mean."

His face remains neutral, but I realize what I said is a lot more morbid than just killing them. Wanting to draw out their pain forever is a step into psychopathy. I don't even know what that would really do to my mental stability that I've built up.

But I've not completely lost it yet and I don't want to be known as the Old Lady who kept a small group of men prisoner in a basement. That sounds like a B horror movie.

"We'll go tomorrow. I'm going to take the night and think over what I want to do."

Ryder nods.

I know if I manage to sleep tonight, my dreams will turn dark and I'll be plagued by nightmares—memories—of my attackers. They'll destroy me in my mind like they always do.

But tomorrow, I'll destroy them.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

I wake up the next morning in Ryder's arms, both of us covered in a light sheen of damp sweat. It has to be from my dreams.

They weren't nightmares, shockingly, but they weren't all rainbows and sunshine either.

It was the future. It was the three of them and the two of us, sitting and standing in that basement respectively. They were mocking me, telling me I'd never be free of them, that I could do whatever I want to them and I still would have to live with my memories.

When I wake up fully, I know it's just my subconscious attacking me. I know I'm stronger than them. I know I can get through this and use my pain for better. I can use my pain, my trauma, my situation as a tool to aid others. If I can stand up for myself, I can do it for women and men in my position. No one deserves to have to live with their attackers walking free. It's a sad fact that it happens more often than not.