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She closes her eyes. "Have you seen my parents?"
"Yes. They're okay."
"I want to go home," she whispers as tears fall down her face. Sobs erupt from her lips, echoing loudly throughout the chamber.
"Shh, Shannon. Don't cry. Seriously, I've got a plan. You have to be quiet."
She continues, and I can't blame her. Five years is a long time to be in this life and it takes its toll. The creak of a door opening echoes behind me, silencing Shannon's sobs. The soft tap of shoes grows closer with each passing second, until cool leather trails down my back.
Fear floods her face, and she nods slowly. I growl as the leather belt slaps across my ass, hard, biting into my flesh.
"Good evening, ladies," a high, sinister voice says.
He moves his hands over my body, digging his fingers into each bruise covering me. My back holds the open wounds from last night. Thankfully, this one uses a beaded flogger.
"You know I don't like it when you make so much noise, though I must say, your cries turn me on."
He traces the welts on my sides, stomach, and breasts caused by a cane. His hand moves down to my sex, slipping two fingers inside me. I attempt to jerk away, but it's a futile effort. Disgust burns in my throat as he circles his fingers around, trying to coax a response from me. I stare into his eyes, deadpan, emotionless.
"You're a defiant bitch," he mutters, removing his finger. He grabs the chain attached to my collar, jerks it forward, bringing a backhand swing against my face. The taste of salt and copper stings my tongue as blood fills the corner of my mouth. He turns his back on me, and I wiggle my wrists. He hasn't noticed how loose I've managed to work the straps. A little further and I'll be able to slip my hands free.
I keep my eyes on him, still urging my wrists free, as he moves to Shannon. Her body tenses as he trails his fingers over her breasts. She cries out as he pinches her nipples harshly. The rope gives a little, and I drop enough for my heels to touch the floor. I flex my ankles, pain radiating through my left knee.
Just a little more.
The belt sounds off Shannon's back, her screams pounding in my ears. He circles back, standing in front of her, his back to me again— my wrists slip from the rope and I drop, noiselessly, from the hanging chains, gritting my teeth against the pain.
You're already dead, sir.
He raises the belt and as his arm comes all the way back, adrenaline courses through my body, giving me false strength as I grab it and yank down hard. He yelps, losing his balance, falling on his back. He turns his head, and I bring my fist down into his nose. He screams, blood pouring from his nostrils.
I move as quickly as possible, with my knee swollen beyond all hell, to the chest a few feet away. Retrieving cable ties, I hurry back to him, binding his wrists together.
"Get up," I hiss, pulling him to his feet.
I yank the chains down, forcing his arms onto the hook. Staring into his eyes, I reach up and break the key's chain from his neck. I grin, slipping it into the lock of my collar. The click of it opening is music to my ears, and I throw the damn thing across the room.
I pull the knife from his pocket and rush to Shannon. In one swift movement, I cut her ropes and put my free arm around her. She steadies herself, holding onto my shoulder. I gently tilt her head back and unlock her collar as well. She rubs her hands against the side of her neck, wincing.
"What’re you going to do?"
"What I do best," I say letting her go.
"Which is?"
"Kill him." I turn toward the piece of shit, hanging, bloody faced, in the center of this torture chamber. "Unless you'd like to do it."
"Me?"
"Yes. I killed my first person at the age of seventeen in a fit of rage. It felt wonderful. I've killed plenty of these fuckers since then. If you want revenge, I'll let you have it."
"I can't." Her eyes, wild with fear and disbelief, lock on me as she shakes her head back and forth.
"Fine. If you don't want to watch, I suggest you go stand by the door. This isn't going to be pleasant."
A sinister pull creeps into my mind. I haven't gone into this mode in a long time. Control forgotten, replaced by need, a compulsion to make him hurt, make him feel our pain. It's hell— I lived in it for years before Jax found me— the evil that caused me to kill in the first place taking over.
Shannon moves past me, stopping next to the door.