I swallowed hard, a horrible suspicion filling me that had me suddenly panting with fear. "What are you going to do to me?"

Instead of answering, she crouched next to my chair and unrolled the black cloth she held and laid it and the contents on the ground by the lantern. There was a small syringe filled with a brown liquid as well as what looked like a piece of rubber tubing that had been carefully wrapped up inside. My heart lurched, and I had to fight the urge to struggle uselessly as I realized my mom was going to shoot me up with something. I had no idea what was in there. I whimpered as I imagined myself becoming an addict like my mother and turning into a walking, rotting corpse.

If she touched me again I might go mad.

No, I had to find my calm, I had to think.

But oh, God, please have mercy on me, and don't let her inject me with that. Don't let her put that poison in my body.

She calmly opened a small package and pulled out an alcohol wipe, swabbing down my arm and then her hands, grinning like she was about to do something really fun. After that, she pushed my shirt sleeve up to expose my inner elbow and touched me there, probing my arm. My heart raced so hard I thought I might pass out as she cleaned the skin on my inner elbow with another alcohol wipe.

"Mom, no, please," I whispered, utterly horrified as she picked up the syringe and turned it this way and that, admiring it in the light coming from the two portable lanterns. She cleaned that as well with an alcohol wipe and I knew then that she meant to put that shit in my veins.

"Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"Yes, yes you do want this." I swear her smile was positively loving as she looked up at me, "Chief is generous, and he has the best stuff. This is the finest heroin money can buy, sweetheart, clean and pure. Trust me, it takes everything away. It's hope for the hopeless."

She didn't look away from the syringe and its contents as she turned it in the light and stared at it like it was a beautifully faceted diamond. At that thought, I squeezed my fingers together, reassuring myself that I still wore Smoke's ring. Pain lanced through me as I wondered if I would ever see him again, and I begged my mother to help me, but I might as well have been talking to the wall. There was a rapture in her expression that chilled me to the bone, and I knew if I didn't reach her somehow, she'd continue putting God knows what kind of shit into my body until I was as addicted as she was.

When she began to move the sleeve of my shirt up even higher I let out an involuntary sob. Fuck, she was going to turn me into a slave to heroin before handing me off to 'Chief,' whoever the fuck he was. I'd seen first hand what people would do for drugs, and I had a vision of me begging someone for a fix before doing a bunch of horrifying shit in order to get it. I tried again, desperation like I've never known filling me as a stinging sweat broke out over my skin.

"No, no, no, mother, please no, please don't. I don't want this. Please don't do this. Let me go, please, please, please let me go. I don't want that needle in my arm. Mom, no, just stop." Tears streamed down my face and slid over my lips and into my mouth the salty taste blending with the taste of my terror.

"Shhh, don't worry, this is a brand new, clean kit," my mother whispered, totally entranced now as she felt around on my arm on the inside of my elbow, no doubt looking for a vein before tying the rubber tube around my bicep. "Stop moving or the needle may break off in your arm. They won't take you to a hospital, so please stay still for me, or I'll have to dig the broken tip out. I promise this will make all the pain disappear. You won't have to hurt ever again as long as you have your medicine."

My broken sobbing didn't move her, and I had to fight against myself to keep from jerking away. She was going to inject me, there was nothing I could do about it, so I needed to not complicate things further by risking breaking a needle off in my arm. With her this close, the scent of her unwashed hair and cloying perfume suffocated me, making each bit of air I struggled to inhale tainted by her. She was going to do this, there was no stopping her, and I could only hope I survived it. All thoughts of anything but the needle pressing into my vein fled my mind, and I held my breath as the plunger was slowly pressed down. I felt the burn as the drug entered the vein while I prayed that she really was using a clean needle.

It took fifteen of my heartbeats for her to empty the syringe. As she slowly released the tourniquet the burn crept up my arm then straight into my heart. My lungs burned like they were on fire, and I struggled to take a deep breath of air while my stomach churned with intense nausea.

It was torture. I couldn't understand why people would do heroin because this shit hurt like fuck going in. My chest felt heavy, then it felt like someone was pressing on my brain, and my mouth flooded with saliva as I fought the urge to puke. My mother caught my frantic gaze and a small smile curved her chapped lips.

"Feeling it, yet? That warmth that's better than anything you've ever experienced filling you, melting the ice inside?" She shivered before rubbing her arms. "I remember my first hit. It was after I left your father....so long ago. How did time pass by so fast? How did things go so wrong so quickly?"

The burn inched up my neck, and my skin began to tingle. I sucked in a breath of air and my mother smiled wider. Something was happening inside of me, and no matter how hard I fought it, my thoughts were beginning to slow and grow disjointed.

"There you go...now you're getting to the good stuff. Don't fight it. Just let it happen." Her face fell for a moment and tears swam in her eyes. "That's the best thing to do when you're with men that you don't want to touch, but they make you. Don't fight them, just let them have you, and it'll be over before you know it....it'll be over before you know it."

By this point, I had no idea what she was saying. The drug had flooded my brain, and I was trying to deal with this new version of reality that I'd been shoved into. The part of my mind that was freaking out got quieter by the second until I was humming with pleasure, writhing in my chair as the most wonderful feelings of joy filled me. Everything was perfect, beautiful, and when I looked over at my mother tears filled my eyes. I was blind to her faults now, only seeing the woman I wanted to love me as much as I loved her. Once, a long time ago, she'd been a good Mom. If I hadn't been so fucked up, I would have been sobbing over how stupid my heart was.

"Don't cry," she said in a cracked voice before digging into the pocket of her loose jeans. She took out a little folded up piece of paper and opened it, my uncaring gaze observing her snorting whatever was inside. A muscle in her cheek twitched, and she let out a soft sigh and leaned back against the wall near my chair. "No more tears. No more feeling."

I have no idea how much time passed as I lazed in my drug-induced vacation from reality. The cracks in the walls were endlessly fascinating, and my vision seemed to narrow into an odd tunnel. Every once in a while my mom would make me drink water or eat something. Once she helped me lean up enough to pull my pants down without untying me so I could pee on a couple of towels. Other than that, I really didn't pay her any attention. While it was amusing to look around and become obsessed with things like a spider web moving slowly in the little bit of breeze coming in through the window, moving seemed like way too much effort. I was too high to freak out, even when my mother stood and approached me with the black hood, sniffing and rubbing her nose.

"I have to put this on so you don't see the Chief. He always wears a mask. Hell even I don't know what he looks like and neither does Cruz." She gave me a conspiratorial wink and lowered her voice, "Cruz is going to leave his wife and marry me, you know. Take me away from all of this, and we're going to live on a beautiful beach and never have to worry about money again. He's such a great guy, and he provides for me. That's the kind of life you could have with Chief if you make him happy. He has obscene amounts of money."

Forming words was beyond me. When she placed the hood on my head, I was lost once again in the magic that was flowing through my veins, my vision cloaked in darkness, and time ceased to exist.

I think I fell asleep at some point because when I woke up the world was muzzy, and I had no idea about the passage of time since I still wore the black hood. My mother was no longer in the room, or if she was, she didn't respond to my rough words. The dryness in my mouth was terrible, and I longed for just one sip of water. Hunger also panged in my gut while my mind caught up to reality and one thought consumed me.

Smoke.

Oh God, Smoke!

Tears rolled down my face, wetting the fabric of my hood as I let out a sob that tore at my throat like I'd swallowed glass.

As I cried, I swear I felt my dad's presence in my mind, in my heart, giving me the strength to uncurl myself and focus on getting out.

I did some breathing exercises to try and rid my mind of the sticky ghost of the heroin, and I pushed back against the depression that threatened to stun me into inactivity. Everything felt so futile, so doomed that I had a really hard time rallying the willpower to keep fighting. It would be so damn easy to give up, to let Chief do what he wanted, to try and end my life rather than be some man's slave.

But I couldn't. I needed to find Smoke, to see if he was still...he was still alive.

And if he wasn't, I would avenge him.

Voices came from behind me, and I tensed at the squeak of the door opening followed by a draft of air through the room.

"At last," an oddly distorted man's voice said from behind me. "The beautiful Swan."

"Remember," my mother whimpered. "You said you wouldn't hurt her."

"Of course. If she cooperates." Someone touched my face through the hood, and I hated how helpless I was. "You want to be a good girl, Swan, because if you're a bad girl, I'll cut off a little piece of Smoke and make you eat it."

I gagged, the image so repulsive that my mouth was flooded with the bitter taste of bile. There was no way I was going to throw up in this hood, but I was coming close. I took in deep breaths, forcing my body to relax even as I shuddered.

A light, hesitant touch brushed my shoulder then slid down to the exposed curve of my cleavage. I braced myself for the crawling sensation to come, but to my surprise, whoever was touching me wore some type of gloves, leather I think. That could mean one of two things, either he didn't want to leave prints, or he knew enough about me to realize what the touch of his bare hands would do. A thick sob escaped me before I could stop it.

"Where's Smoke? Is he alive?" I said in a voice with a small tremble in it.

I hoped Chief thought it was fear instead of rage.

"For now."

The floor creaked as he moved around me, his hand running over my upper chest. Then he paused and swept my hair over my shoulder, continuing to touch every inch of me he could. When he moved from my shoulder down my arm to where my sleeve was still pulled up to expose my vein, I swore I could feel a sudden tension fill the air. He took in a sharp breath, then his fingers were grasping my elbow. When he touched the sore injection site his breath hissed out in a rush.

"What the fuck is this? You doin' drugs now, Swan? Smoke got you hooked on that shit?"

Before I could censor myself I blurted out, "What? No, it was my mother, asshole."

As soon as those words left my lips I knew I'd made a mistake. His growl reinforced that notion, and I quickly said, "I mean, it's from donating blood a couple days ago."

"Billie," he said in a low voice, "get the fuck out of here. I'll deal with you later."

My mother let out a whimper, "But I-"

Then the sharp crack of leather contacting skin rang in my ears and my mother let out a shrill scream.

Oh no, oh fuck. "No, no wait, she didn't-"

"Get out!" Chief roared.

The door slammed and I knew my mother had left me alone with a monster.

"Please don't hurt her-"

Pain lanced through my chest as he cruelly pinched my nipple, stopping me in mid-sentence as I struggled to get out of the hold he had on me. "Shut your fuckin' mouth and listen. Just 'cause I don't want Billie turning you into a junkie doesn't mean you're gonna get away with any shit with me. Either you reel that attitude of yours in and be nice or I'll cut Billie's drugs off and let her die of withdrawal, locked in this room with you. Understood?"

"Yes."

"And you will respect me or Smoke will pay for it. I would love to spend the next five years torturing him until he begs for death, but if you're very, very nice to me I'll keep him alive and relatively comfortable. He might be missing his legs so he can't run, and his arms so he can't hit, but we'll take care of his torso. All you need to do is be as sweet as sugar and never tell me no, understood?"

Hate wasn't a big enough word for what I felt for this man.

But my fear for Smoke was so great that it wiped away any idea of resistance. "Understood."

His touch gentled and I hissed as my nipple stung. "I don't want to hurt you, Swan, really I don't. Of all the things that Smoke has that I want, you're at the top of the list because he loves you more than anything. Seeing you in my arms is going to hurt, real, real bad, in a way that physical pain can't. And that cunt sister of yours will be in misery for the rest of her life at the knowledge that she failed you. Fuckin' uppity bitch. She's throwin' a fit about you back in Austin right now, keepin' Beach occupied tryin' to calm her ass down. Stupid bitch thinks Los Diablos has you and she's about ready to storm their compound."

I didn't say anything, not trusting myself to let one word pass from my lips. This son of a bitch was going to destroy everyone and everything I cared about, and I was too shackled by my love for Smoke from trying to stop him. My feelings were so explosive, I knew I'd fuck up and say something that could get Smoke-and my mother-hurt. I cursed myself for caring about her after everything she'd done and wondered where she was right now, if maybe she was going to try to call for help. Surely she could see how wrong this was.

Okay, I needed to regroup. Obviously, help wasn't coming from my mother, so I was on my own. I should have been gathering intelligence, asking the guy leading questions, dissecting his answers for some clue as to who he was, gathering information for when I escaped, not if. The weird electronic hum to his voice revealed he was using a voice modulator, so that might mean he was afraid I would recognize him. Or that he was hiding who he was from whoever else was here. Why would he do that?

The chime of a cell phone sounded and the man left the room for a few minutes, leaving me wondering how long I could sit here before real pain set in from being in one position for so long.

To my relief, and dismay, the mystery man's voice came from behind me. "I need to go, but first you need a little object lesson, and I need something to make me smile. You and your sister really fucked things up for us, so knowing that when Smoke sees you he's gonna hate you for being sweet to me, I'll eat that shit up. Fuck around and screw up, and I guarantee I'll make you both hurt."

"Wait," my mind scrambled for some way out of this. "You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"And I won't, at least not physically, but I do plan on breaking you." He gave another cruel pinch to my nipple that made me hiss in discomfort before I could bite the sound back.

The squeak of the door opening interrupted whatever else the monster casually touching my breasts was about to say.

"You called, Chief?" A man's unfamiliar voice came from behind me.

"Yes. Take Ms. Swan to use the bathroom and freshen up, but do not remove her hood. I want her out at the shed in five minutes."

"Understood."

The man with the odd voice leaned down and whispered, "You're going to want to hurry, because if you make me wait, I'll take out my boredom on your man."

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he would, so instead of trying to escape, I allowed the new man to lead me across the room, and he was a real dick about it too. He let me bump into the doorframe, trip over a loose board, and all kinds of bullshit so he could have an excuse to grope me. Thank God he was touching over clothes, but even that was bad enough that I was shaking with the need to rip his balls off. Whoever he was, he had that familiar smell of motor oil to him that most bikers did, and when he crowded me from behind, his beard brushed against my ear.

I counted steps, fighting to remember how many paces it was from one spot to another when I was thrust into a small room.

"Don't move," he said in a cold voice. "I'm gonna cut your zip ties loose, then I'm gonna handcuff one of your hands to mine. Hope you ain't shy 'cause I'll be right inside the doorway while you take care of business. Give me any trouble and I'll personally fuck Smoke up. I would love to have an excuse to get my hands on that arrogant, hypocritical bastard."

"Understood."

I took care of business one-handed as quickly as I could, ignoring his lewd comments about golden showers and other sick shit. After I stood and buttoned up, I decided that now was probably my best chance for dealing with this situation. "May I wash my hands please?"

"Sure, take all the time in the world, princess. It's Smoke whose gonna have to entertain Chief. And let me tell ya, that is one sick, creepy bastard with a real hard-on for your man."

I wanted to scream in fury at the knowledge that my rapidly forming escape plan would mean Smoke was going to suffer more pain.

My escort pushed me forward a couple steps with a firm shove to the back and my fingertips came up against cool porcelain that was probably none too clean. I pretended to feel for the taps and braced my free hand on the wall in front of me. When the smooth, silken texture of a glass met my fingertips I smiled, unconcerned about my triumphant expression hidden by the hood. There hadn't been any sounds from anyone else in the house and I hoped they were all either sleeping, or outside, anywhere but here. I was pretty sure my mother was still here, hopefully out of her mind, and I could only pray she wouldn't raise an alarm at the noise I was about to make.

After I rinsed my one hand off I pulled the other, which was handcuffed to my captor. I was just about to yank forward and use one of the nastier moves my dad taught me to send this asshole's head right into the glass and hopefully snap his neck, when I heard footsteps approaching us. The man behind me shifted, not so gently dragging me out into the hall with him. I cursed that I hadn't been just a little bit quicker, then dismissed that thought. As long as I was alive there was always another chance.

"Cruz and I have some business to attend to," Chief said from maybe a foot or two in front of me. "Buck, Weed, Custer and Flea are comin' up and should be here in about twenty minutes to relieve you. But don't worry, sweet Swan, I've left you with some incentive out in the shed. After she's been properly motivated, bring her back here and lock her up in the closet."

"Will do."

Hands grabbed at my breasts again, and I had no idea if it was just Chief or Chief with one hand and the guy behind me with the other. I held my breath, and fought the screams that were so close. The sense of violation and helplessness made me mad. No, I couldn't give into my instincts. I had to hold on...had to fight to remain calm.

With one final, hard squeeze the hands were gone. "Have fun, sweetheart. I hope you like my present."

The sharp tang of blood filled my mouth as I bit my lip and strained not to fall into mindless panic. I still had one hand free, and if I could somehow get this stupid hood off my head, I'd have a much better chance at survival. While I could fight relatively well without sight-my Dad is a big Star Wars fan and had me train blindfolded more than once-I couldn't do it well enough to ensure a victory, especially when I had no idea how many people were here with me or my surroundings. A misplaced kick could send my leg into trouble instead of a soft stomach.

My arm was rudely jerked, and the man leading me dragged me after him until I was able to catch my balance and walk properly. We went down a set of stairs and I was trying to figure out if we were still above ground when a guy's thick voice from somewhere to my left shouted out, "Motherfucker!"

The guy leading me stopped and I bounced off his back falling until he wrenched me back to my feet. "Baldy? What's up, man?"

Baldy-no one I knew-yelled back, "I think Billie's OD'd. What the fuck do I do?"

"Son of a bitch," the man that I was cuffed to yelled. "Go get the adrenaline kit out in the shed. I'll be right there after I secure this cunt."

"I don't think the kit's gonna help her."

"Just get the fuckin' kit!" the man next to me roared.

I was stunned in that moment, frozen in time at the idea of my mother dying just a few feet away. That shock lasted right up to the point where my brain realized on some level that the cuff next to mine had just been removed. In an odd way, my mind felt split into two parts. One part was methodically going through scenario after scenario of ways to escape while the other, childlike part of me was wailing in grief.

"Shut the fuck up," The man who spoke was jerking at my cuff.

It took me a moment to realize that the part of me screaming in denial and pain wasn't inside my head, but what was happening to my body. A primal need to protect my blood overcame me. I had to help my mom, I had to save her. My scream abruptly cut off as I felt him trying to fit the cuff on something.

My body and thoughts caught up to each other in the calm dreamscape of my killing space.

I braced myself on his shoulder like I was feeling faint and quickly calculated where his throat was. In one smooth move I lifted the hood enough to free my mouth, then sank my teeth into his flesh as hard as I could. I tried not to let the sensation of his beard against my face and in my mouth bother me, or the metallic tang of his blood. My teeth sank deep into the meat of his throat and I bit down hard enough to crush most of his trachea and esophagus. He tried to scream and shove me away, which only made it easier to tear out a nice size chunk of his throat.

The moment I was free of him, I jerked my hood all the way off while spitting out his blood. I turned in the direction of the horrid, wet sucking sounds the guy made as he tried to breathe. In a surreal moment, our eyes met, and I watched in morbid fascination as he tried to stop the bleeding with his hands. He stumbled away from me while the hard pump of his heart sent surge after surge of blood pouring past his fingers. One thing my father never told me was how fucking messy death could be.

When one of his blood-covered hands fumbled at his lower back, I realized he was probably drawing a gun, and that snapped me out of my daze. I crossed the room in three steps then reared back and kicked him right between the legs like a soccer pro going for a goal. If he'd been able to make any sound he probably would have been shrieking loud enough to break the windows, but the only sounds he made were those disgusting sucking, gurgling noises. He was nearly unconscious from blood loss as I pushed him with my foot onto his stomach then grabbed the gun from his lower back, a loaded Smith and Wesson .38 Special.

With one threat essentially eliminated, I focused on where the guy looking for the adrenaline kit had gone. Once I got rid of him I could get to my mom. My shoes squished through the growing puddle of blood flooding the small, empty foyer. I glanced around and found nothing to indicate that anyone actually lived here. This place must be outside of town because my screams would have been enough to alert any neighbors or people walking by. The house vibrated slightly as a door was thrown open. I hid behind the edge of the wall, and stole a quick peek at the man who must be Baldy running down the hall with a look of panic on his craggy face.

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, I stepped around the corner and placed a bullet right between Baldy's eyebrows, the gore of the shot blending into the darkness whirling around my mind. He hit the ground with a thump. I crouched down and waited fifteen precious seconds for someone to come investigate the sound of a shot being fired.

My ears were still ringing from the gun blast, but I decided that it was safe enough to scoot forward and grab the backpack from the still warm grip of the body that was now a corpse. The harsh rasp of my breath halted when I saw my hands were coated in blood. For a hysterical moment, I freaked out about having the bearded man's blood all over me, but I managed to fight past my disgust and fear to focus on the pack.

My mother needed me. Smoke needed me, and I didn't have time for the luxury of a freak-out.