Page 29

My heart stammers, adrenaline courses through me. One way or another, I’ll get out of here. I’ll heal from this. And the monster behind me will pay for everything he’s done. That thought, that determination, is the only thing that will keep me sane, keep me fighting.
I won’t let him break me. I’m stronger than he knows. I just have to hold on a little longer and wait for the right time.
The sound of a vibrating phone makes him stop and he steps back. I glance over my shoulder, trailing him with my eyes.
He curses something and picks up the phone. “What?” he barks, and I automatically flinch.
“What? You told them? You’re fucking worthless.” He slams the phone and it crashes against the wall.
He shakes his head and stomps towards me, his pants still open, his boxers hanging low.
“Don’t,” I plead and lean back as he grabs my chin.
“You think you’re done? You think you’ll deserve anything better than this?” With his touch leaving my chin, his other hand slams into my jaw.
“Do you think they want you?”
The taste of copper fills my mouth and he punches me again against my cheekbone.
“You’re a filthy whore!” He spits in my face, his fingers claw at my mouth as he tries to pry it open, and with his other hand, he pushes down his pants.
I keep my lips clenched shut, move as much as I can away from him. He closes in and his scent invades me. I grip the knifetighter and with the little motion I have, I cut him. He hisses and reels back.
“Stay away from me,” I grit, and his tense brows soften as laughter spills from him.
“Or you’re going to nick me with that tiny knife of yours, stupid girl?”
I swallow as he rounds me. “You can’t catch me here, dirty slut.” With his hand in a fist, he slams against my thighs and I cry out in pain.
He does it again and my legs give out, leaving me hanging on to the shackles.
“You think I was hurting you before?” He chuckles. “You have no idea how much pain I can give you. If I can’t have you, no one can.”
His hand curls around my neck and squeezes.
Hard and relentless.
Eleven
DIMITRI
Irub the dried blood from my knuckles but it has stained my skin. Just like her blood. A stain I can never wash, get rid of. I should want to get rid of it, but I can’t.
Knox was the first to do it and I didn’t stop him.
I stare down at her, her body bare and bruised. Jaxon holds her down as the blade rests heavy in my hand.
I crouch down and rest on my knees. She thrashes and sobs, pleading with us.
“Please, no, don’t do this!”
Her cries don’t hit me in the way they should and I press the razor-sharp top to her delicate skin. She writhes beneath me, but Jaxon’s grip is unwavering. The knife parts her flesh like butter. Blood wells up, crimson and glistening, as I etch a “D” into her chest. She screams, the sound bouncing off the walls. The pain in her voice sends a thrill straight down and I can feel myself becoming hard again. I’ve never felt so powerful, so in control.
“Perfect,” Knox whispers and a sly smile tilts on my lips.
Jaxon groans and I hand him the knife. He takes it eagerly, licking his lips as he presses the point to her skin. His strokes are less precise, more jagged as he carves a “J” next to my initial. Hope’s skin is slick with blood and sweat.
“Hold still, sweetheart. You’re ours now,” he growls and wipes away some of the blood to get a better look.