Frankie pressed herself as tight against the wall as possible and fought to slow her breathing. Calm. She needed to be calm. “What are you doing here?” She barely managed to choke out the words.
“Retrieving you. You see, I kidnapped one of your little pack members. But apparently she wasn’t important enough for you to come save her.” He grinned. “Turns out that she isn’t a werewolf at all. First time I’ve ever tortured a faerie. But I have to say, so far I’m finding it quite amusing. Who knew iron was such a useful weapon?”
“You bastard,” Frankie growled.
He leaned more weight on the blade and the cut deepened just enough to exponentially enhance her pain. “Enough with the insults, my dear. Dirty mouths aren’t appealing on women, even canine whores.” He dragged the tip of the knife down her collarbone, stopping inches away from her breasts.
She hissed from the sting. Blood gushed from the tear in her skin, and pain seared through her.
“I’d absolutely love to take my blade to that beautiful chest of yours.” He trailed the flat part of the blade over her right breast. “But we’ll save that for later.”
She glared at him, though she couldn’t fight the shivers running down her spine. “You’re a sick freak.”
With his blade safely away from her throat, she kneed him hard in the groin. He crumpled over exactly as she’d expected. She brought her elbow up and slammed it down into his spine. He toppled to the floor, but he managed to grab her ankle in the process.
He was strong, and when he pulled on her leg she slammed to the floor. She scrambled to her feet, but not before Robert regained his footing, too. He grabbed her shoulder, his knife at the ready. Spinning out of his grasp, she unleashed a roundhouse kick that hit him square in the face.
With a loud curse, he stumbled back, clutching his bloodied nose. Before he could retaliate, she punched him straight in the solar plexus. Gasping for air, he fell to his knees. Now was her chance. She bolted for the door, but before she’d run even five feet, Robert stabbed the blade of his knife through her blue jeans and into her calf.
She screamed in agony. Pain shot up her leg and radiated through her entire body, but she didn’t stop. She stumbled toward her door, moving as fast as she could. Blood gushed from her wound, leaving a crimson trail. She reached for the knob of the open door, and she used it to steady herself.
Without warning Robert tackled her from behind. He caught her off balance and slammed her into the wall.
“Back off, you filthy piece of shit.” She clawed at his face with her fingernails, scratching anything she could reach.
He clutched both hands around her throat. Lifting her off the ground, he choked her as he pinned her against the wall. “I said, no. More. Insults.”
Frankie clawed at his hands, trying to escape. She kicked her feet in hopes of hitting him in the groin, but it was no use. Black spots clouded her vision as she felt herself start to slip into darkness. The last thing she saw was Robert’s twisted grin.
“Sleep now, little packmaster. You can rest until the fun starts.”
JOGGING THE HALF block back to the building, Jace reviewed everything he could possibly say to convince Frankie of his innocence. Somehow, nothing he came up with seemed like enough. When he reached the building, he bounded up the steps, wrenched the door open and headed straight for the stairs.
He stopped in his tracks.
Crouching to the floor, he rubbed his finger across a small red speckle. He lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed. The smell of iron filled his nostrils.
Blood.
Jace sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. Frankie’s door hung open. His stomach flipped. “Shit.” He ran into the apartment at full speed but quickly skidded to a halt.
Blood. Frankie’s blood.
There was a large pool on the floor, with small droplets leading out of the apartment. Robert had her. He knew it without question. All his fault. If he hadn’t left her...
A loud roar ripped from Jace’s throat as anger flooded every inch of his body. He barely took the time to scan the writing that dripped in fresh blood across the walls before he stormed out of the apartment. He was going to tear that fucker to pieces.
FRANKIE’S EYES SLOWLY flickered open. Her head pounded, pain thumping in her temple like a steadily beating drum. Her whole body ached, and her collarbone throbbed with pain every time she breathed. Damn him for using a silver knife. Pushing herself off the ground, she blinked several times until her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. She scanned her surroundings and gritted her teeth.
A cage. He’d placed her in a freaking cage.
She grabbed one of the bars and shook it with all the strength she could muster. The iron creaked as it threatened to give beneath her strength, but it would take hours to bend it enough so she could escape. Something told her she didn’t have that kind of time.
“We’re in a warehouse. Don’t bother yelling or trying to get out. It’s impossible.”
Frankie turned around. Allsun lay sprawled across the bottom of the cage, her arms and limbs spread wide as if she were the female equivalent of da Vinci’s famous Vitruvian Man. She didn’t move.
“Allsun, are you okay?” Frankie crawled toward her. When she reached Allsun’s side, she cursed.
Iron. The cage was made of iron—even the floor.
“Holy shit, Allsun. I’m going to move you, okay? I’m going to move you so your skin isn’t touching the metal.” Frankie placed a hand on Allsun’s arm.
The small faerie cringed. “Be careful, Frankie. My...my skin is stuck to the iron. If you move me, it will peel off.”
“Shit.” Frankie hit one of the metal bars of the cage in frustration. “I’m going to have to move you somehow. If you stay like this, the iron’s just going to keep eating away at your skin.” Frankie eyed the length of Allsun’s body. She didn’t know where to begin.
Legs. She would start with her legs. The only skin showing there was a slight flash of her ankle just above her shoe, the only part of her leg not protected by her jeans.
Shifting toward Allsun’s feet, she stared down at her injured friend. “I’m going to move your legs so that your shoes are touching the iron, instead of your skin. Okay?”
Allsun whimpered, unable even to nod.
Frankie cupped her hands underneath Allsun’s kneecaps. Should she pull her legs off the floor quickly, like a Band-Aid, to lessen the pain or move slowly in hopes of salvaging some of the skin? Frankie closed her eyes and quickly lifted Allsun’s legs.
A blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Frankie’s eyes snapped open. Her stomach flipped. She held back vomit at the sight of chunks of Allsun’s skin stuck to the iron. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Frankie gagged.
She propped Allsun’s legs up with her knees bent and placed her shoes in contact with the iron. Her torso remained flat against the bottom of the cage.
Damn. The difficult part was next. Her arms and her head.
Frankie carefully slipped her hands underneath Allsun’s shoulders. Her blouse had managed to protect most of the skin there.
“No. No. Frankie, please,” Allsun cried.
