Page 33

Gwen

A s the evening rolls in, I sit on my ass, still in the dress from the party. It’s been two days now. My stomach growls, and my body aches. Jamison paces the floor, waiting to hear back from Jo. Suddenly, the phone rings, and he walks into the other room. Watching the door close, I scoot to the edge of the couch, trying to lift myself to my feet. These handcuffs are a big inconvenience. Pressing the front of my weakened body against the couch, I push up with my legs, forcing myself to stand. I scan the room for anything that could work in my favor.

Fuck. There’s nothing. Just some deer heads hanging on the wall and a television straight out of the eighties. I hear Jamison talking, but I can’t make out his words. I walk over to the wall and press my ear to the smoke-stained wallpaper, straining to listen. The door swings open. Jamison steps through, catching me in the act.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he yells. I shake my head, my feet shuffling as I back away from the door. "Go sit the fuck down before I knock your ass out." "Jamison, can’t we talk about this? We used to have so much fun together, remember?" My voice softens as I force a smile, hoping to stir something inside him. "Remember when we broke into those cars, hid out at the lake, and went skinny-dipping?" If I can make him remember that he once loved me, maybe just maybe I have a chance.

He laughs. "Oh, I remember. That was before you turned into a bitch, too worried about what your precious mommy thought of you." His words cut deep, but I keep my expression neutral. "Your little tricks don’t work on me, Gwen. Four years, and I know all your moves." Fuck. He’s right. I should've known that wouldn’t work. There's no good outcome for me here. Karma's a bitch. We all pay for what we do, and I know my sins. Now, it’s time to face them. "Come here, Gwen." His voice is calm, but there’s an underlying threat in his tone.

I do as he says because what the hell else am I supposed to do? I step closer, bracing for a slap or a fist to my face. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he cups my chin, his thumb brushing my skin. "You always did have the prettiest blue eyes," he murmurs, tracing the contours of my face. My eyes fill with water, but I lift my chin, refusing to let a single tear fall. "Too bad they’re going to see a lifetime of torture when I hand you over to Dominic for my freedom."

My breath catches as he pulls a syringe from his pocket. "Please, Jamison, don’t do this. Please. “Like a viper striking, he jabs the needle into my neck. A scream rips from my throat as my vision blurs and the room spins. My lip’s part, but no words come out. My limbs go numb. The last thing I see is Jamison’s face hovering over me before everything fades into blackness and pure bliss.

I start to come to when I hear Jamison’s voice cutting through the haze, but I’m so zoned out I can barely comprehend. My head spins as I force my eyes to focus. The room wavers, doubling before sharpening into view. Jamison’s silhouette comes into focus. I’m lying on the cold, dirty ground, shivering. My dress is gone. Instead, I’m wearing a bright red push-up bra and a matching thong one I don’t recognize.

Jamison must have put them on me after he stabbed a needle full of liquid into my neck. Now fully aware, I make out Jamison pacing, his dirty shoes scuffing the floor, his stained shirt clinging to his frame. He has his phone pressed to his ear. “Jo, pick up the damn phone! They’re going to be here soon. Where the fuck are you?” he barks.

The place looks like an old barn converted into makeshift rooms, yet the floor remains packed dirt. I try to move but freeze. The handcuffs are gone, but my wrists and ankles are bound tightly with rope. Jamison notices me shifting. His panic is immediate. Striding over, he grips my hair, yanking me to my knees. My ass rests on my heels, and my knees dig into the earth.

“What the fuck did you do, Gwen? Huh? Jo went to your house, and now he’s not answering. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” Spit flies from his mouth, splattering my face. “I didn’t do anything,” I manage, my voice hoarse.

He rakes his hands through his hair, wild with nerves, then spins and punches me hard. Pain explodes across my face as my lip splits. Blood drips down my chin, hot and thick. I spit a crimson glob onto the dirt. “Fuck!” he swears, pacing frantically. “They’re gonna be here, and I need to hand you over before I get the hell out.”

His phone buzzes with an incoming text. Relief washes over his face. “Thank God. Jo’s on his way.” My lip won’t stop bleeding. The taste of iron fills my mouth, and I run my tongue along the wound, realizing my tooth has punctured the inside of my lip. Jamison glances down and curses. “Shit. I need you looking good, not like this.” He squats in front of me, yanking a bandana from his back pocket and pressing it to my lip. I let him. But the moment he pulls it away, I spit a spray of blood across his face, coating his skin like paint.

He wipes his face with the rag, eyes dark with disgust. Good. I hope he hates me with every bone in his body. “You’re lucky I need you in good condition so Dominic might actually want you,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t take you, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you and leave you with Jo. And when he rapes you to the point you’re barely breathing, I’ll dump you in the streets to die.” His voice is a low, venomous promise. I meet his gaze, unwavering. “You don’t get it, do you? Killing me would be doing me a favor. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with pieces of shit like you anymore. So please, do us both a favor fucking take me out.” His jaw clenches, but before he can respond, headlights slash through the darkness. The hum of engines rumbles closer. Two cars a blacked-out Cadillac and a Corvette kick up gravel as they roll in. Dust swirls in the air, illuminated by the bright beams.

Jamison stands, shielding his eyes from the glare. His stance shifts, legs spreading wide, trying to look imposing. But in my head, it’s like a Chihuahua raising its hackles, barking at a Pitbull. A Pitbull that doesn’t need to bark it only knows how to kill. The doors open in near unison. A tailored suit steps out first. Dust settles back to the earth as Jamison stiffens. His eyes widen. A slow smile spreads across my bloody lips as I tilt my head up to him and laugh. “The king has arrived.”