26

MAYA

“Tie her wrists tight. The boss wants her secured before he gets here.”

The gruff voice echoed through a thick, suffocating fog inside my brain.

Blinking hard, my eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. A nasty, bitter chemical taste coated my tongue. My throat burned with every shallow breath. The sickly sweet smell of the damp rag still clung to my skin, making my stomach churn in violent circles.

“Bro is tweaking if he thinks we won't catch a charge for this,” a second voice muttered. “Snatching a girl outside a hospital? That is insane behavior. We are caught lacking out here in the open.”

“Shut up and lock the back doors.”

Cold metal pressed against my cheek. The floor vibrated beneath my body. The faint rumble of a running engine told me I was lying in the back of a vehicle. A cargo van, judging by the lack of windows and the smell of stale oil and rust.

Trying to move my arms, a sharp pain bit into my skin.

Thick plastic zip ties bound my wrists together behind my back. My ankles were secured with the same tough plastic. Panic flared in my chest, hot and wild. The drug still messed with my motor skills. My limbs felt numb. My head spun like a tilt-a-whirl.

Forcing my eyes to focus, the dim interior of the van came into view.

Two massive figures stood near the back doors. The pale glow of a streetlamp filtered through a small crack, illuminating their faces. Troy. And another guy from the Dogfang defensive line. They wore dark hoodies, trying to blend into the shadows.

“She is waking up,” Troy sneered, stepping closer. His heavy boots thumped against the metal floorboards.

Pushing myself up into a sitting position required every ounce of strength my weak muscles possessed. Leaning my back against the cold steel wall of the van, my breath came in ragged gasps.

“Let me go,” my voice cracked, sounding dry and pathetic.

Troy let out a dark, mocking laugh. He crouched down, bringing his ugly face inches from mine. He smelled like cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke.

“Not happening, princess,” Troy taunted. He tapped a thick finger against my forehead. “Nathan is very upset. You embarrassed him. You walked around campus holding hands with his worst enemy. Now, you get to sit in this van until he arrives to teach you a lesson in loyalty.”

“You are going to prison for this.”

“No cap, nobody saw us,” the second guy chimed in, checking his phone screen. “The alley was dead. Your little hero is across town at practice. By the time he realizes you are missing, Nathan will already be done with you.”

Biting my lower lip, the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Fear threatened to drag me back under into the darkness. Nathan was unhinged. Sending his goons to kidnap me proved he no longer cared about rules or consequences.

“Call him,” Troy ordered his friend. “Tell him the package is secure. We are ready to move.”

The second guy dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

Before the call could even connect, a blinding beam of white light flooded the narrow alleyway.

The intense glare pierced through the gap in the van doors, illuminating the entire cargo space. A massive engine roared, loud and furious, echoing off the brick walls of the hospital buildings.

“What the f*ck is that?” Troy shouted, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes.

Tires screeched against the asphalt. The sound of a heavy vehicle accelerating at maximum speed filled the air.

A deafening crash shattered the night.

Metal crunched. Glass exploded into a million tiny pieces. The sheer force of the impact threw the cargo van sideways. My body slammed against the steel wall. Pain exploded in my shoulder, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins dulled the ache.

The van rocked on two wheels before slamming back down onto the pavement with a violent jolt.

Troy and his friend crashed to the floor, cursing in pain.

Outside, the roar of the V8 engine idled. A heavy truck door opened and slammed shut.

Heavy boots crunched over broken glass and gravel. The footsteps did not sound rushed. They sounded deliberate. Methodical. Like a predator stalking trapped prey.

“Who is out there?” Troy scrambled to his feet, pulling a heavy metal wrench from his belt.

Without warning, the back doors of the cargo van were ripped open. The metal hinges shrieked in protest.

Davies stood in the opening.

He looked like a literal demon straight out of a nightmare. His black truck sat parked at a diagonal angle, the front bumper smashed deep into the side of the van. The bright headlights cast a glowing halo around his massive frame. He wore his dark practice gear. Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. His chest heaved up and down.

His dark eyes bypassed the two Dogfang players and locked straight onto me.

Seeing the plastic ties binding my wrists and ankles, a terrifying change came over him. The cocky hockey captain vanished. The charming guy who bought my mother chocolate ceased to exist.

Pure, unadulterated murder painted his features.

“Davies,” my whisper barely made it past my lips.

“Get away from her.” His voice dropped into a gravelly, demonic rumble. It did not sound human.

“You are outnumbered, Westbridge!” Troy yelled, brandishing the heavy wrench. He tried to sound tough, but his hands shook. “Step back! This does not concern you!”

Davies did not waste time with words.

He launched himself into the back of the van.

Troy swung the wrench, aiming right for Davies’s skull.

Ducking under the wild swing, Davies moved with terrifying speed. His massive fist buried itself into Troy’s stomach. The impact sounded like a baseball bat hitting a side of beef. All the air left Troy’s lungs in a loud, wet gasp.

Before Troy could recover, Davies grabbed the collar of his dark hoodie. He yanked the giant defenseman forward and drove a brutal knee straight into Troy’s face.

Bone shattered. Blood sprayed across the metal floor.

Troy collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, out cold before his body even hit the ground.

“Crazy f*cker!” The second goon screamed.

Reaching into his pocket, the guy pulled out a silver switchblade. The streetlights caught the sharp edge of the blade. He clicked a button, and a four-inch piece of deadly steel snapped into place.

Panic spiked in my chest. “Davies! Watch out!”

The guy lunged forward, thrusting the knife toward Davies’s chest.

Reacting on pure instinct, Davies twisted his torso to avoid the fatal strike. He swatted the guy's forearm, trying to disarm him. But the confined space of the van limited his movement.

The sharp blade caught the side of Davies’s black shirt.

A sickening tearing sound filled the air.

Davies let out a sharp grunt of pain. He stumbled back half a step. The fabric of his shirt ripped open, revealing a deep, nasty slash across his left oblique. Dark crimson blood instantly welled up, spilling over his skin and soaking into his dark clothes.

“I got him!” the guy yelled, his eyes wide with wild adrenaline.

He stepped forward to deliver another stab.

He never got the chance.

Ignoring the bleeding wound on his side, Davies stepped inside the guy’s guard. His right hand clamped onto the wrist holding the knife. His grip looked like a steel vise.

A loud, brutal snap echoed in the small space.

The guy screamed in pure agony, dropping the switchblade. His wrist hung at a unnatural, broken angle.

Davies did not stop. His left hand grabbed the back of the guy's neck, shoving him face-first into the ribbed steel wall of the van. The guy slumped to the floor, joining Troy in a heap of unconscious, broken bodies.

Silence descended on the alley, broken only by the hum of the truck engine and the ragged sound of Davies breathing.

He stood over the two Dogfang players for a long second. Blood dripped from his side, hitting the metal floor with soft, wet taps.

Turning around, he dropped to his knees right beside me.

“Maya.”

His large, rough hands grabbed my shoulders. He scanned my face, checking for bruises. His dark eyes softened, the murderous rage melting into desperate concern.

“You are bleeding,” my voice trembled. Tears blurred my vision. Seeing the dark stain spreading across his shirt sent a fresh wave of terror through my veins.

“I am fine.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a roll of white hockey tape. He bit the edge of the tape, tearing off a long strip. Wrapping it around his knuckles, he grabbed the thick plastic zip tie binding my wrists.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

Bracing his hands, he pulled with raw, brute strength. The tough plastic dug into my skin for a split second before snapping in half with a loud pop. He did the same to my ankles, breaking the restraints through sheer force.

Rubbing my raw wrists, a sob caught in my throat. The drug still made my limbs feel like lead.

Without asking, Davies slid his massive arms under my back and knees. He lifted my body off the cold floor like I weighed nothing. Cradling me against his chest, the scent of his wintergreen gum mixed with the metallic smell of fresh blood.

“I got you,” he whispered into my hair. “You are safe now.”

Stepping out of the wrecked cargo van, the freezing night air hit my face. My head rested against his broad shoulder. His heart hammered a frantic, chaotic rhythm against his ribs. Every step he took caused a slight wince to cross his handsome features. The knife wound was bad.

He carried me over to his idling black truck.

Pulling the passenger door open, he set me down on the soft leather seat with incredible care. He reached across my body, pulling the seatbelt across my chest and clicking it into place.

“Keep pressure on this,” he ordered.

He grabbed a clean gray towel from the back seat. Pressing it against his bleeding side, a sharp hiss of pain escaped his teeth. He tossed the balled-up fabric into my lap.

Slamming my door shut, he jogged around the front of the truck. His boots crunched over the broken glass from the van’s shattered headlights.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he shoved the gear shifter into reverse.

“Davies, you need a hospital.” Reaching out, my shaking hands pressed the gray towel against his ruined shirt. Warm, sticky blood soaked right through the cotton. “You are losing too much blood.”

“Not happening.”

He spun the steering wheel with one hand. The truck whipped backward, tires smoking against the asphalt. Shifting into drive, his boot pinned the gas pedal to the floor.

The massive vehicle shot out of the dark alleyway, merging onto the main road. Streetlights blurred past the windshield in fast streaks of yellow light.

“Nathan will send more guys,” Davies gritted his teeth, his jaw locked in a rigid line. “We need to get off campus. I know a place outside city limits. We go there. We disappear until tomorrow.”

“But your side!” Pressing harder on the towel, my fingers became stained with crimson. “It needs stitches!”

“I have a medical kit at the cabin.” He threw a quick glance my way. His face looked a shade paler than usual, but his eyes burned with fierce determination. “Just keep the pressure on, sweetheart. Do not let up.”

“How did you find me?”

Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, leaving hot trails down my cold cheeks. The reality of the last ten minutes crashed over my brain. If he arrived two minutes later, Nathan would have me.

“You dropped your phone,” Davies answered, keeping his focus on the dark road ahead. “I was driving to the hospital to meet you. I saw your screen light up on the ground. Saw the van peeling out of the lot. Put two and two together.”

A choked sob left my mouth.

Leaning over the center console, my hands kept firm pressure on his bleeding wound. He risked everything for me. He left his practice. He fought two giant men. He took a knife blade to the ribs. The fake contract was a distant, forgotten memory. No guy goes through this much blood and hell for a PR stunt.

“Hey,” his right hand dropped from the steering wheel.

His rough, warm fingers brushed the tears from my cheek. His touch felt incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the brutal violence he just unleashed in that alley.

“Don't cry, Maya. You are safe.”

But I couldn't help it, knowing I might have been dead if he wasn't there.