Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

When she finally wore him out and he fell asleep, she started working the ropes with her teeth, tugging and gnawing as if her life depended on it. After long, breathless minutes, she managed to slip free.

She had no clothes. No shoes. Nothing but determination and speed in her favor. Praying that luck was on her side, she eased open the door and listened for sounds of life. Hearing nothing but snores, soft and loud, she tiptoed into the hallway and headed for the side door that she’d seen when Khan had dragged her to his room.

Gaining the outside, she took the first breath of freedom. Feeling the mild temperature, she thought that good fortune was with her until she found she couldn’t shift. Whatever drug they’d given her was wearing off but still strong enough to impair her abilities.

Left with no choice but to maintain her human form and run, she headed for the rugged moonlit hills in the distance. They were farther than she thought. She was nearly at the base of a rocky ridge when she heard the sound of motorcycle engines screaming in the distance, ripping through gears, headlights bouncing as they came.

A rush of adrenaline gave her speed and helped her reach the ridge. But by then, the jackals had caught up to her. She was grabbing for a handhold when someone triggered the shock collar on her throat, sending enough electricity through her to send her to her knees and make her piss herself.

Mother. Fuck.

Phantom laughed, the bastard. Khan strode up to her and backhanded her across the face. The instinct for self-preservation kicked in. She lashed out, clawing the shit out of the President’s face before Phantom shocked her again, leaving her jerking uncontrollably on the ground.

Khan touched his face and came away with blood on his hands. Glowering at her, he hauled back his foot and kicked her in the ribs, cracking at least one of them. “Goddamn bitch,” he snarled. “You nearly took out my fucking eye! That’s it! No more Mr. Nice Guy. You’re going in the pit.”

He’d brought more rope. Or maybe it was the same one he’d used in his bedroom. Either way, he bound her wrists and marched her along behind him, forcing her to keep up or be dragged. She judged that they’d gone a mile before reaching what looked like an abandoned mine.

He stopped when she was near the edge. With only the light from the moon and their headlights, she stared into the stygian darkness, an endless ink-black void.

Untying the rope from the back of his bike, Khan grabbed her biceps and shoved her toward the pit. Her bare feet touched the rim, almost sending her down.

“You can try and claw your way up but you won’t get out,” he promised. “No one ever has.”

Swallowing hard, she darted a nervous look at the blackness that waited to suck her down. One of the jackals wrapped a rope around her waist and knotted it. Focused on what he was doing, she failed to see the syringe Phantom jabbed into her neck until it was too late.

She felt the sting of the needle and a familiar warmth flow through her. She looked at her fingers, wondering why they wouldn’t work. Her legs started to buckle, offering no resistance when Khan pushed her backward over the edge.

A scream tore from her throat as she tumbled down the shaft, crying out in pain when her flailing arms hit the jagged, narrow sides. She cried out again when the rope jerked, breaking her fall. It cut into her, making her cracked ribs hurt like the devil.

“Stop struggling, bitch!” Khan shouted above her. “Unless you wanna break something.”

Clutching the rope that left her dangling in the air, Magenta fought not to panic. She had no idea how far she would fall when they let go of the rope and let her drop. A scream tore from her throat, thinking this was it, but she hit the ground with an oomph.

With her keen shifter sight, once her eyes had time to adjust, she could make out the walls of her prison. There was no way out but up. No tunnel she could crawl through. It was a shaft. A pit, exactly what they’d called it. If she wanted to leave, someone would need to lower a rope or ladder.

Chin tilting upward, she could see Phantom and Khan peering down at her from far above, their faces illuminated and their heads backlit by the headlights of the bikes.

Magenta rose on shaky legs, her hands flattening against the rocky wall. “Let me out!”

Their laughter rained down on her, cruel and harsh, confirming what her sinking heart already knew.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Phantom called. “It’s a long night and it gets cold out here.”

“Let’s see how repentant you are in the morning,” Khan boomed beside him. “You’ll be on your fucking knees using that mouth on every man here and begging for forgiveness.”

“Go to hell, you piece of shit,” she snarled, clawing at the stone in front of her.

More laughter rang out.

She almost stopped breathing when something was dragged over the top of the hole, entombing her further. Crumpling to the floor, she wrapped her arms around her legs and listened to them leave. The voices ebbed. The roar of engines faded until all that was left was silence.

As her adrenaline rush flattened and the dose that Phantom gave her wore off, she became aware of the aches and cuts she’d sustained in her failed escape attempt. She’d been so close.

Tears stinging her eyes, she dropped her head on her knees and wallowed in self-pity and misery, letting the sobs come and the tears stream down her face.

Magenta didn’t know how long she sat there before she felt a small flame of determination relight.

Scrambling to her feet, she held out her palms, testing the wall and feeling its roughness. If she could find handholds, she could use them to climb out. Fingers seeking out