Page 78 of Convict's Game

He was going to rape me.

I couldn’t stop them.

“What the fuck is that on your throat?” The friend released his grip on my neck like it was radioactive.

Sullivan reached out. Before I could flinch, he ripped the slim bandage from my skin. “Fucking hell. Look at that scar.”

One of the men gripped my chin to extend my neck, peering even more closely. Disgust came quickly. Real, visceral revulsion.

I curled in on myself, horrified.

They inched away.

“Nah, man. I’m not sticking my cock in that. There’s something wrong with her.”

The leader shook his head. His erection wilted. Poor baby. No refunds for being a walking red flag.

“What the fuck are they trying here, pushing off damaged goods on us. I’m not paying for a fucking charity case.”

I twisted away and pressed my fingers over the scar. Yet I couldn’t find my words. Not a single one to tell them they were assholes.

Sullivan made it easy on me. “Get out. Send someone in who isn’t ruined.”

Naked, humiliated, and horribly close to tears, I opened the door and fled.

Dressing and packing my clothes in my room on the cam girls’ floor happened in a dream. People spoke to me, I didn’t answer. Nor could I reply to the single message I sent security, telling them to kick the guys out.

All I knew was that I had to go. I’d tried, I’d taken on new clients, and I’d lost. I’dfailed. There was nothing for me here now.

I didn’t just lose a job. I lost the last piece of who I used to be. The girl who could handle anything. Turned out, she bled out on that boathouse floor, and I was too slow to bury her.

In the reaches of my mind, I recognised how triggered I’d become, and how my trauma had mixed in with the guys’ shitty words, but it was only when I reached the ground floor of the warehouse that my hold on my emotions cracked.

I’d intended to sneak out of the back, but Lovelyn was in the corridor. Her face fell when she saw me.

I really liked this girl. We hadn’t known each other long—she’d only been on the scene working with Arran for a few months. She gave off sweetheart vibes, from her name down to the flower prints she always seemed to wear. Maybe it was the computer help she’d given me, or the fact that since my injury, she’d never poked her nose into my business. Just accepted me for what I was. Either way, one caring glance from her nearly had me bawling.

She swooped in on me with a hug. “What happened?”

I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.

Lovelyn peered at my face, concern written all over hers. “I can see you’re upset. Whoever did that needs a stern talking-to. Should I fetch Arran or Shade?”

I shook my head sorrowfully.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Tears clogged my throat even more. “Talk at me?”

“Okay, if you’re not ready to speak, I’ll babble until you are.”

I gave a tearful laugh, and Lovelyn continued.

“I made a new friend tonight. Someone I think you’ll like. You know Convict? It’s his woman. I was going to say girlfriend, but I know the game they operate here and how they don’t like that term. Claimed woman? I don’t know. Anyway, she’s lovely. Her name is Emilia Marchant.”

Marchant.No, oh hell no. My heart iced over.

I hadn’t heard that name in a long time. I actively avoided reference to that family. I’d blocked out every memory.