Page 9 of Deadly Knight

Like a Bratva soldier.

The pain comes in waves. My nails curl into my palms, biting through the skin. I welcome this pain, because it’s something else to focus on.

His body weight lifts slightly. His hands grip my thighs. He cries out the same way I do, but for different reasons. I don’t come, but as warmth shoots from him deep inside me, I cry. Both in relief that I’m on birth control and in pain.

I wish I didn’t make a noise. Wish I didn’t feel cum drip from me as he slides his cock out. Whatever he murmurs to the others, I don’t hear it over the blood rushing through my ears.

My heartbeat thumps so rapidly, I’m surprised no one else can hear it. Or maybe they can but simply don’t care.

Certainly not over Dimitri’s screams. He’s mindless with his threats and attempts to be free of the numerous layers of rope they tied around him.

A tear drips down my cheek for him. So helpless. So unlike everything he stands for.

I love him.

I’ll always love him.

I want him to save me.

But he can’t.

And I can’t save myself.

Another body replaces the first, and his hands come around my hips to reposition me. I tilt my head towards the ceiling this time, eyes shutting when he uses the cum of the previous man as lubricant to slam inside me.

For once, I’m thankful for the cloth in my mouth, because it’s something to bite on. Something to hide my scream and not give them the satisfaction of my verbal pain.

This man is bigger than the last. Heavier. And he’s not gentle—not that the first was either. Without looking, I think he’s Bodybuilder One.

During the car ride, in a moment of conscious attention, I studied the four of them, mentally nicknaming each one.

Bald One.

Skinny One.

Bodybuilder One.

Greasy One.

“Katya.”

I open my eyes. The voice comes from the only person I care about.

“Eyes on me.”

I stare at him. There’s hopelessness etched in his expression, agony as he endures watching this. I can’t keep my eyes open, because then he’ll see my pain, which hurts him more. If I shut them, then the truth will remain hidden.

So I close them, and he immediately repeats in a demanding tone, “Eyes on me.”

It’s lined with a deepening plea that has me obeying, trying to continue masking the truth of my own feelings while also giving him whatheneeds to get through this. Because this isn’t only about me; he’s forced to witness this. They are raping him mentally and emotionally, while I’m enduring the physical kind. If he needs my attention for a moment, I can give him that much. The only way we’re getting through this is together.

“Do you remember last summer when we were at the beach? You found a rock so smooth, it almost seemed fake. But what made it that smooth was its time in the ocean. The water washed away all its rough edges and imperfections.”

The man comes with a grunt and final thrust that my body blocks out in favour of the memory. The beach was lovely, and I try to recall the heat on my skin and the pleasure I felt being there with him. Holding his hand as we walked up and down the coastline until the sun dipped lower, casting yellow, orange, and, finally, red streaks over the water. It was a sight only found in photos until that moment.

Don’t,I silently plead. I say it aloud again, but the cloth muffles my voice.Don’t ruin these memories for me.

The third man enters me in a similar manner to the first. He probably thinks my noises are for him, but they’re a conversation with Dimitri.