Page 60 of Rage
Rage did mention I could use one of the club vehicles, which is a relief. It saves me waiting on him or someone else to take me into town. I hate feeling like a burden. Still, I’ll have to look into buying a car of my own soon.
I get up quietly, careful not to wake him, and slip into some clothes. I head into the spare room—now completely overtaken by my business—and gather the packages and get them ready for postage.
Downstairs I grab an apple off the counter and take a bite as I head toward the front door. The club members keep their keys hanging up there, and I grab the ones I remember are for the truck. With a deep breath, I step outside, ready to tackle the day.
The morning air is crisp, and it nips at my skin. It’s a bit overcast today. I press the button and the truck beeps—so it’s the right keys—and I hop on in. I giggle. I feel ridiculously small in this beast. It takes some fiddling with the buttons to move the seat forward, but once I sort that out, I send a message to Rage.
I just borrowed the truck. I’ll be back soon. Going to the post office to drop off some packages. Love you xx
I smile at the message, then drive out of the driveway and along the dirt road until I reach the end of the property. In town, I’m extra cautious and drive below the speed limit, and I end up parking near the post office. The streets are quiet.
I look at my phone. Damn, I’m early—the post office doesn’t open for another twenty minutes. I go through my phone and land in the photo section. I delete old pictures of me with Tyler and Kayla.
The sound of the passenger door opening makes me look up. A massive figure slides into the seat. I gasp. It’s the Russian fighter, Ivan. His body is huge, filling the truck. His face is sharp and cold. My heart hammers.
I want to scream, but he says, “Don’t even think about it.” He has a gun down low, aimed at me. His eyes are pale andicy. “Drive,” he says, his Russian accent thick and his voice low, leaving no room for argument.
I hesitate and scan the streets, but they’re bare, so no one would hear me scream anyway, and I don’t want to risk getting shot. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. “W-what?” I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.
He jams the gun into my ribs. “Drive now, bitch!” His tone is laced with menace.
I’m hyperventilating. “Where am I going?” I murmur, struggling to get the words out.
“To the park at the beach,” he replies bluntly, his gaze fixed out the windshield. “Where you’ll get out and get into another car. No more questions. Just drive.”
Other car?My stomach churns as fear claws its way up my throat. I turn the key with trembling fingers, and the engine rumbles. As I pull out and drive away, I notice their sedan behind us.
The short trip to the park feels like an eternity. My mind races, my thoughts a blur of panic and dread. Rage will come for me... but he’s not here now. I’m alone, and the man beside me is radiating anger that I can only hope he doesn’t take out on me.
Once the beach comes into view, he points over to the park. “Park outside, away from any other vehicles. If you scream or try to run when you get out, I’ll shoot you and go after Rage next.”
Vomit rises up, but I swallow it back down. I park in a secluded spot. Ivan puts the gun in the pocket of his jacket and gets out of the truck. His eyes lock onto me as he walks around and opens the door for me. I hesitantly get out. He firmly grabs my arm in one hand while keeping his other hand on the gun in his pocket.
Ivan’s manager is standing by the hood of the other car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “We meet again,” he says with a sly smirk.
I cringe. I stumble as Ivan yanks me to their car. “Get in,” he barks as he holds the back door open.
I slide across the seat. My heart’s pounding so loudly.
“She’ll stay with us until Rage agrees to step back into the ring,” Ivan says. “It ended too quickly last time. I refuse to go home humiliated after losing to some kid.”
“And if he doesn’t care about her?”
“The boys back home will love a new plaything.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he says it.
The tears fall hard and fast, just like the rain that begins to fall. They aren’t just using me as leverage—they’re going to hurt me if they don’t get what they want. I try to think of a way out, but there isn’t one. Rage will be asleep, and I don’t know how long it will take for him to realize I’m not coming home.
Ivan ties my hands behind my back. The men get into the car and we drive away.
The ride overtakes longer than I expected. We enter a run-down trailer park with graffiti marring its sign. The trailers are in varying states of disrepair. We park in front of one. The front door opens, and Ivan’s girlfriend rushes out of the trailer. She hated me for them losing money.
Ivan gets out, and they talk in Russian by the hood of the car.
The manager walks back, opens the car door, and pulls me out. “Look, lady, just be good. Don’t piss the big man off, and hopefully your boy toy will fight Ivan again and we can have you back to him in no time.”
They don’t know Rage at all... He said he’d do anything to protect me. I keep my mouth closed. I look at the trailer; it’sa patchwork of rust, peeling paint, and dirt. The windows are cracked, the edges held together with duct tape. A shiver racks my spine.
“You’re staying in the bedroom. If you’re staying the night, don’t try and run. Ivan will be on the couch.”
