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“You’re fucking perfect, flower,” The General breathes heavily in my ear, the rancid taste of stale smoke and whiskey making my stomach roil. “No wonder my son and his little friends are so enamoured with you.”

My heart twists painfully at the mention of the boys. They’d been my protectors so long that I failed. I should have learnt to save myself. Because they aren’t about to charge in on white horses to rescue me now.

The General’s hand slips under my jumper and moves up to cup my breast. I try to buck him off but I can’t move. He has me tied too tightly to the bed. To Zie’s bed.

The little dinner I managed to choke down threatens to return.

“Please,” I plead, the tears in my eyes threatening to spill over.

“I fucking love it when you beg.”

He grins at me then licks the length of my face. I cringe and turn my face away but rough fingers grip my chin and jerk my head back where he wants it. There’s only amusement in his eyes though. Amusement and sick satisfaction and excitement and arousal.

“I feel sick.”

He grins then attacks, smashing his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I can’t even think about why I taste blood. Blood and whiskey and stale cigar smoke. I heave. It doesn’t stop him.

How do I get out of this hell?

Realising that I can’t, I turn my head to the side and bury it as best I can into the pillow, taking comfort from the familiarity of Zie’s scent as The General begins a slow, torturous descent down my body.