Page 174 of River of Deceit

Too late.

I slam my arm against his, sending the knife flying. While he’s distracted, I dodge around him.

I run.

I make it three steps before somebody tackles me to the ground. I shout and yell as the frat douche picks me up and hefts me over his shoulder. Everybody’s shouting now, every sound echoed in the gym hall like it’s the crowd at a game.

Somebody pulls my boots off, and another person gets my shorts and panties. The hoodie is removed once I’m flung onto a mattress, along with the remains of my shirt and bra, and I’m completely naked in front of all these men, and I don’t care, I don’t fucking care, it means nothing!

“If a single one of your dicks gets near me, I can promise you hell,” I snarl. “River knows what happens to those who cross me.”

“You’re just another spoiled rich girl here,” Asch says, looking down at me. “Your family doesn’t run Dyschord.”

River replies, “She thinks her Papa can protect her from everything. It’s time to teach her that he can’t.”

One guy grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress. Two other guys grab my legs. I kick and scream, but I’m outnumbered—and, disgustingly, outclassed.

If I had my knife, I could even the playing field, but I can’t fight off ten fully grown young men.

This is happening to me. No matter how hard I struggle, it’s going to happen.

It’s just my body. My body that’s already tearing itself apart from the inside out, so what are a few extra marks.

I ignore their comments; I don’t flinch when they start writing on me with permanent marker.

Their words are nothing.

What they do to my body is nothing.

They don’t get their cocks in me—and Blaze, perfect Blaze, he stopped them from doing that—but what would it have mattered if they had?

It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of cocks in me before.

None of this matters.

It goes on.

Familiar hands stroke my hair gently while something else pierces through me.

Whatever.

Somebody suddenly haulsme to my feet. Guess they’re bored of playing with me now. I stumble against a strong, warm chest that I instantly know is Asch.

I tilt my head up, even though I can’t see, and I smile at him.

Oh, wait, I can’t smile. The gag is in the way of that.

Right, they’d gagged me. Another thing I wasn’t paying much attention to.

“I’m not taking this out,” Asch says. “She’d probably try to bite my fingers off.”

“Leave it in,” River advises, and from the sound of his voice, he’s moved away from me.

“Just dump her outside,” one of the frat douches says.

Another hand grips my shoulder, and from the cologne I know it’s Blaze. I sway in his direction.

“We’ll take her out. The rest of you, clean up here. With real cleaning supplies,” Blaze orders.