Page 183 of Jagged Souls

Her

It’s been hours since I have been raped. Despite logically knowing that that is a good thing, I’m starting to freak out. What new, twisted thing is Sadist going to come up with after being denied his toy for so long? I can’t handle the anticipation, the horrible thoughts of my imagination. Will he get me to dig up Bear’s corpse and fuck it? Will he figure out a way to get me to Rudy and then force us to –

“No!” I clutch my head, starting to shake. I slam my palm against my temple, wanting to stop the thoughts. Stop the pain.

But only V can give me relief.

“Please,” I beg to an empty room, and I have never felt more alone. Despite wishing for privacy, now that I have it, I hate it. Where is someone to beg for some V?

Where is someone tohelpme?

“I need it,” I cry as I crawl across the bed. I go over the edge and hit the floor. I spread my hands out, feeling for the damp patches of blood, hoping to find where they all stood and thus any vials of V they might’ve dropped.

I search for what feels like hours, the minutes of my life ticking away. My hands hit a pool of stickiness, and I nearly weep. But there’s no vials nearby. I almost scream. My body trembling, I check the entire place, each wall, each corner, the space beneath the bed and bedside table and other bits of furniture.

Then my hand knocks into a small glass bottle. It rolls across the floor, taking my breath along with it. Swallowing hard, I hurry after it, trying to figure out where it’s gone.

My fingers graze it. I pick it up tenderly, my heart racing.

Stop.

You could lose her if you take this.

Antonio wants me to carry the pup in my belly to term. Then he’ll bring my daughter back. All I have to do is not take the V.

My hands shake from the impossible choice.

I’m not strong enough.

You are.

Do it for her.

She left me.

Why should I think about her at all?

I flinch, feeling sick with myself. What sort of thoughts are they? What sort of mother – what sort of monster am I?

You can still be good.

I shake my head.I’m too filled with poison.

There’s no point trying to be better when all that’ll be is a lie.Thisis who I am. A terrible person. A terrible mother.

I uncork the bottle of V, and I raise it to my lips.

July 1 1907, St. Augustine, Florida – Antonio

Shit!

Dropping the bag of fish I’ve just come back with from the market, I pivot and sprint away from my house, leaving the front door open. I’m well within Death Hunt territory, and no one would be dumb enough to rob me, but I don’t even care if they do. Siome’s presence isn’t in the house. I can’t smell the musk of her fur or the sandalwood and citrus of the soap I bathe her with. I left her asleep in my bed. She was never a morning person. I thought I would have time to sneak out to get her something to eat; I’d damn well run out of food and hadn’t eaten anything myself for days.

I barge into Oscar’s house. He’s fucking some whore he picked up off the street –I don’t know what his obsession with prostitutes is when, as alpha, he has a whole pack of willing women– but he tosses her aside as I enter.

“What –”

“Did you fucking take her!” I yell as I fight the urge to shift. I know he wants her gone, wants me back. But if I attack him, it’ll be seen as a play for alpha, and I don’t have any interest in the role.