Page 57 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

I ’m staring out at where I know the window is, when I hear their approach.

My wrists still throb beneath the bandages, only now, the wounds feel like a taunt, like a reminder that I was a failure in this too. That I’ll never escape this life, never be able to leave until my husband is the one to do it.

The partition doors are shut but I can hear them in the room beyond. They’re talking too low for me to make out actual words but when those doors slide back, it feels like the bottom of my stomach falls out.

“Wife.” Gunther says in that expectant tone.

I don’t want to turn, but I feel too weak to fight him. Too weak to fight this.

I keep my face down, focused on the floor and Gunther struts up to me, taking my hand as he pulls me closer to whoever else is stood here.

“See,” Gunther says. “Look at her. Look at her beauty. You expected me to turn this down? To reject her? As if any man would do such a thing.”

“You know why you should have.” The man replies sternly.

Only, it’s not just any man. It’s Antonio.

I don’t know if it’s joy or despair I feel as I lift my head. God, I wish I could see him, I wish I could… but it’s too late for that. Far too fucking late.

I pull my hand free of my husband as a shiver of repulsion creps up my spine. I don’t know whether to be thankful or not that Gunther doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem to react.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Gunther replies. “Even you couldn’t say no to my little Paitlyn.”

God, the way he says my name, the way he lays ownership to it, to me. It’s so hard not to hide the scowl and I swear Antonio can tell.

“Our Grand Master…”

“Fuck the Grand Master.” Gunther suddenly bellows, picking something up, throwing it against the wall, smashing it to pieces as I physically jerk at the sound. “I am in charge. I am Chapter Lord. I am as good as God here and you would do well to remember that.”

“Such talk is blasphemous.”

“Denying my rights is also blasphemous.” Gunther retorts before he’s grabbing me, pulling me back against his chest. “And I have the right to enjoy my wife, to enjoy her body and her cunt, and all of her…”

My legs are trembling, threatening to give way, and I don’t want to collapse, not in front of him, not in front of the man who delights in my pain and my torment.

I can see how this is going to play out, how Gunther is going to prove those very words he’s just spoken.

Only, all that rage in him seems to suddenly fizzle out.

“Stay, Antonio, you’ve had a long enough journey.

” He says, before shoving me forward, shoving me so that I know I’m right in front of my Guardian and then he undoes the robe, pulls it aside, reveals my body to him.

He drags a finger down the side of my breast as I swallow the bile.

“Stay. Enjoy my hospitality. And I’m sure after a few hours of it, you’ll see I was right all along.”

Antonio must know what he’s saying, what he’s offering. That I’m being laid out on a silver platter for him to enjoy the way so many have before.

I expect Antonio to argue, to tell Gunther where to shove it, only he doesn’t. His breath seems to change, he steps forward in a way that feels threatening, not soothing.

Disappointment, hate, so many emotions swirl in me as I realise that this man will be just the same as all the others. He won’t help me. He won’t lift a finger, will he? Not when he has the chance to get his dick wet.

Gunther chuckles like he knows he’s won this argument. He gives me one last shove, kicking at my ankles to ensure I can’t keep my footing. Antonio grabs me to stop me from face-planting at his feet and I’m pressed against him now.

One of his hands moves to grab the robe and then Antonio glances at Gunther.

“I like to play alone.” He says pointedly.

No. Nooo. This can’t be happening. This can’t be .

Antonio was my Guardian. He was meant to protect me, to help me… but then all of that changed the day I married Gunther, didn’t it? By Brethren rules, the day I became a married woman was the day Antonio’s duty was done.

Gunther lets out a noise half-growl, half-laugh. “You always were a sly dog.” He sneers. “But fine, have it your way.” He steps away and he walks to the where I think the door is. “Enjoy my wife.” Gunther calls out as he slides them shut. “I’ll let you play with her until sunrise.”

The sound of the door clicking, of it locking seems to reverberate through my very bones.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe, I wait for the awful movement that confirms it. That seals it. That proves that all I am to the entire world now is a cheap whore.

His hand is still there, holding the silk of my robe so tightly. I flinch as I feel the fabric move but instead of being wrenched off, he wraps it around me, practically smothers me with it, before he does the tie up like it’s a knot he doesn’t want to come loose.

He feels like a grenade about to go off. This man, who’s always been so cool and collected.

What the…? I open my mouth to speak but the fear of what is going to happen next silences me.

“How many?” He growls. “How many men has he let near you?”

My cheeks heat. Shame radiates off me and I can’t answer that. I can’t. Those tears I’ve been keeping in erupt, they cascade down my cheeks and I turn into an awful sobbing mess.

He snarls, smashing something against the wall, and I flinch, waiting for those fists, that violence to turn to me.

I don’t know what to do. Is it me he’s angry with? Does he think I’m the one responsible for all this?

“I told you.” He snaps. “I warned you…”

“You think I really had a choice?” I gasp. “You think Pearce would have listened? Or my mother would have, either?”

Does he really think I had such a luxury as free will in any of this?

I can see it, I can see those moments, they flash like images, like a movie in my head, playing out one by one.

The stupid little performances Gunther put me and the other girls through.

Did he have his sights set on me from the very beginning?

Was the entire thing a set up? I mean, all the other Founder girls had families, had fathers.

I was the only one without that. I was the east target, easy pickings…

I let out a ragged breath as my heartrate spikes.

Maybe it was all a rouse. Maybe Pearce and Gunther had arranged it all, I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him, my uncle wanted power, no, he didn’t just want it, he needed it, with every fibre of his being.

He believed he deserved it, and I know he would have sold me to the very devil if it would have given him that.

Antonio steps closer, wrapping his arms around me, rubbing my back in a way that feels comforting. Too comforting.

“It’s okay.” He says in that reassuring tone.

“It’s not.” I gasp, losing that last tiny bit of control over myself I have left.

He all but carrying me over to the couch and he makes me sit down while it sounds like he paces in front of me.

“What happened to your face? To your eyes?”

I can’t answer that. I can’t form the words to speak out loud about all the awful things I’ve suffered. I sob harder, lifting my hands to cover my shame.

“He did that…?” He moves to where I am and I realise, he’s crouching down in front of me. His hands pull mine away, his fingers trace where my eyelids have been sewn shut.

“Why the fuck did he do that?” He snarls.

I can’t, I can’t take this… I try to get up, try to stand and he holds me down, wraps his arms around me again and lets me sob into his shoulder.

“It’s okay.” He says, repeating that same line as if it has any meaning.

I can feel how wrinkled his clothes are. I can feel that his silk shirt is crumpled, creased. He’s normal so neat, so presentable. Where the fuck has he been? He could have stopped it, he could have stepped in, he could have done something…

“Have you spoken to my mother?” I ask, I’m not sure if I want to know his reply. It’s not like the two of them have ever seen eye to eye before.

Something changes in his body language. “No.” He says firmly.

“Have you…” I hesitate, half stammering as I say the next words, “Does the Grand Master know?”

“He knows.” Antonio confirms. “And he is not happy about it. About any of this.”

I don’t know if it’s relief or fear that racks through me. Our Grand Master has never been kind, none of our leaders are kind, but surely, he’d want to make an example? Surely, he would not allow a Chapter Lord to so openly disobey him?

“Please,” I stammer, shifting, dropping to my knees. “Please, tell me he’s going to do something, that he’s going to help me.”

Please. I need him to say this. I need him to promise me. I need… but his mouth doesn’t move, his body doesn’t either.

Oh god. Oh god.

He’s not going to, is he? He’s going to leave me here, he’s going to let Gunther get away with all of this, he’s going to… my mind panics more, my heart slams into my chest so hard I can’t even breathe.

I’m going to die here. I’m going to die.

And none of these men, none of them will do a thing to help me.

“Paitlyn,”

I barely hear his words. I’m spiralling, panicking, becoming half as mad as my husband in this moment. A shriek seems to escape my body and what little strength I have left evaporates. I crumble, I collapse, I sink down onto that ridiculously plush rug and I claw at my throat.

“Paitlyn,” Antonio says again, more urgently.

He grabs me, hauls me up and holds me against his body and he rocks me the way a parent does their hysterical child.

“I can’t do this. I can’t…” I gasp.

“You can. You can, Paitlyn.” He murmurs back.

“He’s going to kill me. He’s going to lose his temper one day soon and he’ll go too far.”

It doesn’t matter that I tried to kill myself, it’s not the same, because in my head, me choosing to die is a very different thing to my bastard of a husband hurting me so badly that ends up being the result.

He doesn’t reply. He just holds me, soothes me, but there is no real comfort here. There never will be.

“Please…” I whisper again.