NOT EDITED. OBVIOUSLY.
"I've come to challenge your Alpha."
You know, maybe Stella and I should have conjured a better plan. That only occurred to me the moment we were snatched up and bound, thrown into a van like a sack of potatoes.
And much like the potatoes, it seemed they wanted to eat us. Only, well, alive.
One dude had leered over us the whole time, reaching out to touch Stella onto to receive a swift bite that nearly ripped off his fingers. That sent him running.
I hadn't even gotten the chance to see Tate when they just took us. Maybe Stella was right -- I had a death wish.
It seemed plausible when the car stopped and they yanked us out, onto our knees and face first into the dirt. I got a mouth full of pebbles of leaves till I was wretched on by my hair and dragged.
We'd made it to the Purgatory compound - just a little North of Liam's old cabin - and stood before the daunting, concrete building. Many of the members were lounging outside and though it was only the afternoon, they already had a bottle of brandy whipped out.
I hadn't thought, instead I had braced my shoulders and walked, head high and determined; I had solid proof I was of Purgatory descent, so how could Tate deny me? He couldn't.
I was proven wrong when we were ambushed and I was forced to listen to Stella's shrieks for the men to let go of her. I had tried to fight them off - a swift jab to the ribs and a punch to the nose, which I'm happy to report actually broke the dude's nose - only to receive one back, right to the eye.
They took the opportunity to get us then.
Not to mention, the car reeked of garbage and I was sure we were laying on a pile of candy wrappers. Stella was fumbling the whole times with the ropes that were bounded over her head while one of the dudes watched in sick fascination.
The area around my eye throbbed the whole time and my hair had been snagged from it's braid, left to lay down my back in messy waves.
I screamed like a mad woman once we were out of that disgusting van and into broad sunlight. I demanded they take me to Tate -- I wished to converse with no one else -- but doubted myself along the way.
When I realized where I was beginning dragged, I panicked.
It was the building where we had retrieved Liam from, as well as the place I got my leg torn up by some angry mutt named Max. It was the first time Jeremy, Stella, and I had met and decided we would work together.
Now I guess Stella and I were going to die here if they didn't grant my request. Then only I would die if I lost. Or well, maybe Stella too. So we were doomed either way.
But I was optimistic, black eye or not. I would likely receive worst injuries by the end of the day so I had to be prepared.
I wasn't prepared to be thrown into some pitch black room without Stella.
Once my eyes adjusted, I could see gauzy curtains - like the one's from last time, concealing whatever mysterious that lied within - and various couches. There was no heartbeat minus my own, so I figured I was utterly alone.
Now, here I sit, yanking at the ropes with my teeth and searching for possible windows. I was sadly greeted with nothing more than concrete walls and faux fur pillows. "What the fuck is this?" I mutter, "a brothel?"
With the amount of silk and questionable stains on the couches, it's definitely an option.
I'd finally managed to break the ropes from my arms free and untied the one's by my feet before I went banging on the door, "let me out, you cowards! I challenged your alpha and that's who I want to see!"
Laughter. There was laughter.
In result, I'd ripped the door handle off and was about to slam the whole thing down when it swung open, nearly hitting me in the face and before I could even get a glimpse at the face, the door had been shut and we were both left in darkness.
I knew they were a part of the Purgatory the minute I stayed still and dared to let their rotten stench invade my nostrils. I wondered if they had ever heard of a thing called Axe, or well, a shower.
I'd sprawled myself onto the floor, searching for anything I could utilize as a weapon if they decided to attack. In result, I stumbled across what felt to be a nail and clutched it to my chest, hoping it was rusty so that bitch would contract tetanus.
All I heard was slow breathing.
But then my eyes slowly became accustomed to the dark again - the splash of light had thrown me off - and I noticed the figure was tall, broad, and seemingly male. That wasn't much of a surprise, seeing as the Purgatory consisted of solely male's. But he seemed to carry a different air than the rest; he wasn't leering or snarling, nor was he even approaching. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed and bored holes into me.
His hair was shoulder length, black, with a prominent jaw and carved cheekbones. Straight nose, fuller than average lips, and shockingly blue eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. If I hadn't known any better, I'd think he was a vampire.
"What are you going to do with that?" His voice was deep and sudden. I hadn't realized what he was talking about till he gestured at my hand cradling the nail to my chest.
I stood slowly, leaning against the wall as I examined him. "I don't know yet," I answer truthfully. "I was debating jamming it into your esophagus or better yet, into your eye."
He has creepy eyes. It would be a win, win.
He laughs, just like his voice, it's equally as deep and throaty. I want to ask him what's so funny; me threatening to kill him or me actually thinking I have the chance of doing so?
It's rude, nonetheless.
"I think there's a piece of glass underneath one of the couches from a vase we broke, if you prefer to use that," a smirk twitches it at his lips and I clutch to my useless weapon even harder.
"No thanks," I say. "I'm hoping it's rusty so you catch tetanus."
"Why would you want to kill someone you don't even know?" He questions. He must be dense.
"Because you're apart of the Purgatory," I roll my eyes and he snorts. "Who are you? One of Tate's minions or something?"
"No," He drawls slowly, advancing slowly with his hands behind his back. "I'm Tate Weston, Alpha of the Purgatory." I flinch when he is close enough proximity to extend his arm to me. "You must be Ron, since Stella kept on screaming for you."
A lump forms in my throat at the mention of Stella. This is Stella's enemy. This is the man who kept her captive for a year and did... horrible, unspeakable things to her. This is someone I'm also supposedly related to - by pack or blood, it seems - and I'm horrified to put a face to the name I've heard Stella utter while in tears.
I want to punch him, go through with my plan and claw his eyes out, but my legs are glued to the pavement and I cannot force myself to move. "Ronnie Mars," I hiss through clenched teeth and if I could, I would dash away from the tiny corner he has - and well, I have - backed myself into and demand he never come near me. "Where is she?"
"In another room, waiting for me." He answers and he doesn't appear to be thrown off by my tone, if anything, the mirth in his eyes hints he finds it amusing.
