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“It will be so fun to watch you break.” His smile turned the fear into whirling blades in her belly, and she hated feeling so vulnerable. So weak, as he towered over her. Then he tilted the pitcher just enough to splash water onto her face. Clenching her eyes shut she shook it away, licking at the lingering drops on her lips before she returned to glaring at him.

“You’re not going to break me. I’m not going to obey—” Cutting off her hissing rage with another little splash, he tsk’d as she jerked at the cuffs, blinking away the water from her eyes, muttering curses.

“I will admit that you have held on to your defiance longer than other girls I have taken, but what you fail to grasp is that everyone breaks, slave. There is a limit to what your mind can take… and today we are going to find it.”

“No.” Beth tried to sound confident, but the glint in his eyes promised violence. Pain. Suffering.

“Tell me, girl, do you know what waterboarding is?” The word made her still against the table. Torture. That was torture, right? He ran his fingers over her cheek, leaning closer. “No? Let me show you.”

Suddenly there was a cloth over her face, held down by his hand around her jaw, and then she felt the water. She tried to gasp, jerking at the cuffs, but water poured into her nose and mouth. No air. Fabric stuck to her skin, blocking everything as he continued to pour.

Oh God, I’m drowning.

As soon as the water stopped, he pulled the cloth away and she choked, spitting water as she turned her head to the side, lifting her shoulders as much as possible to force it out so she could haul in a ragged breath. More violent coughs, and then his hand landed on her chest and slammed her back to the table. Eyes and nose burning, lungs aching, panic rising — he stared at her like an insect. Like prey. “I’m sure you understand the situation now. Will you address me properly?”

Hauling air into her lungs, she clenched her fists, driving her nails into her palms. “You’re an asshole. A monster! A fucking rap—” The wet cloth was back over her face in an instant, his hard grip molding it to her face, making her jaw ache, and then the water came again.

She tried to scream, but breathed water instead, and her body convulsed, choked, alarm bells ringing in her body. Dying. Can’t breathe. He’s going to kill me.

Bright lights blinded her as she coughed violently, almost heaving as water flooded out of her nose, lungs convulsing to force out more. Her ears were ringing, but his voice came in loud and clear, “Say it.”

Wheezing in air, she coughed again, and shook her head slowly. “Fuck you,” she whispered, voice scratchy and strained.

His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his neck, and then he backhanded her. Pain exploded in her cheek, and she yelped, couldn’t stop the cry. The cloth returned then, just as she tried to refill her lungs, and she was drowning again. Choking on screams until her heels kicked at the table, arms desperate to rip free of the cuffs, but there was no escape. Instinct demanded she try to breathe, but there was only water, and she fought it, fought it until even with her lips pressed closed her brain tried to draw breath through her nose.

The girl convulsed, chest jerking, breasts bouncing as he counted in his head. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one… twenty-two. Finally he lifted the pitcher upright, moving the cloth free, and water spouted out of her like a fountain. Her first effective cough, and he watched her breathe. One, two… “Say it, slave.”

Her body jerked violently, struggling against the cuffs, and then she screamed. It was filled with rage, fury, and he silenced her with the cloth, holding it down as he poured the last of the water in the pitcher over her face slowly. The jingling sound of the cuffs at her wrists and ankles, the muffled, guttural groans in her chest, all of it distracted him from the fact that he hadn’t counted.

Don’t kill her.

The last of the pitcher emptied, and Anthony pulled the cloth away. She threw up water, shoulder lifting as she turned to the side and expelled a torrent onto the table and floor. None of it bothered him. That was what this room was for — easy clean up — and she hadn’t hit him with any of it.

Still, he needed her able to respond. Needed her alive.

Marcus would be watching. As soon as he had turned the cameras back on, everyone had received the alert, including his wayward brother.

Which meant he needed to control this situation. Taking the pitcher back to the faucet, he filled it, refusing to even look at her as he listened to the haggard breaths, the wheezing, and then she screamed again. Raw and desperate.

A living thing wanting to stay alive.

“Say it,” he demanded as he turned back towards her, gripping

the cloth tight in his fist until he felt rivulets streaming between his fingers.

Her brown eyes met his as her ribs jerked with another cough. “No. Just kill me.”

A smile twitched at his lips, cock hardening in his pants, urging him to make her submit. To break her until she was nothing more than a mindless doll, an object, a slave.

She didn’t want to die, and he was going to prove it to her.

“Take a breath,” he warned her a split second before he blocked her nose and mouth with the soaked cloth, holding it taut to her cheeks as he started to pour again. Thirty seconds this time.

Beth wanted to let go, wanted to breathe the water deep and end this nightmare, but her fucking body wouldn’t let her. Her mind fought her, overruled her, flooded her system with adrenaline and raw panic until she was fighting the cuffs and choking on water as her useless lungs sought air.

And then the bastard gave it to her, lifted the cloth so she could drive out the water with painful convulsions, loud, strangled sounds, pulling oxygen back in that did nothing more than drag this hell out a little longer.

Whimpers were slipping from her, tears burning her eyes, but at least they were invisible amidst all of the water.