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MARISELA

I narrowed my glare at the figure in front of me.

I couldn’t see him through the blindfold that covered most of my face and eyes.

Couldn’t curse his name through the bite guard that was shoved into my mouth the first time I’d tried to scream out for help.

But I could feel him. Looming over me. His shadow blocking the light that was so bright it pierced the thick fabric and heated my skin.

He didn’t speak as he poked at me with the tip of his bony finger. Grazing a hand over my rib cage, circling along the middle of my torso, and stopping just under my breast line. Tentative and curious. Creepy .

I waited for him to touch me again. Instead, he pulled his hand back. I felt the brush of his sleeve retracting as I took a deep, irritated breath through my nose. Everything smelled so clean. So sterile. Like bleach and alcohol and… bubblegum. The fruity pink kind.

I could hear him chewing. Blowing and popping and gnawing.

Followed by the sound of whining wheels on polished tile before it was just me and the blinding light again.

Sprawled out on a stiff table with nothing but a thin piece of fabric separating me from the cool air that was being pumped into the room on a continuous basis.

No different from a piece of meat they were afraid of spoiling.

But this place wasn’t just my icebox; it was my new prison. Not as pretty but just as suffocating. If I was lucky, all they’d do was slice me open. Then again, something told me these guys were more interested in the holes that were already there and less interested in creating their own.

My arms were numb and warm, my feet cold and tingling as I tried to fight whatever drugs were in my system. The ones that were trying to lull me under and keep me quiet and compliant. I was too mad to sleep, though. I was also too stubborn to give in.

I wanted to be awake for everything they planned to do to me. I wanted to feel it. Remember it. Use it to fuel the rage that was directed more inward than anything else right now. At myself.

Because this was my fault. I never should have trusted him to get me out of there.

My stalker might have jumped at the chance to kill for me.

But it came with a price and that price came with friends.

And those friends had more in mind for me than a prenup and a white dress.

I could only imagine what that more was.

Though I knew it was nothing good if it required drugging me up and stripping me down.

I’d fucked up. I knew that now. And the worst part was admitting to myself that maybe my father was right all those times he insisted that the devil I knew was better than the devil I didn’t.

One might have kept me in a cage but the other made sure to clip my wings so I fell faster into the hellfire.

And right now, I was both freezing and burning up.