Page 173 of Scavenger's Oath

“She still thinks she’s worth something,” Bennett says coldly. “Strip her to the bone. Let her learn.”

I imagine Phoenix, cutting me free of the restraints, wrapping me in his shirt like a shield.

But then his fingers tighten, not gentle at all. “Look what you let them do,” he snarls, shoving me back toward them. “You’re theirs now.”

The picture burns away, leaving only hollow pain, and shame that I let myself hope.

They never felt anything for me. It was all a trade, and I was the fool that believed it was more.

Wanting safety so badly made me naïve. Now I understand why they reacted to my pregnancy the way they did.

Shutting my eyes, my tears stream down my cheeks as Derek swings my body into his.

I try to focus on anything else. On the sound of the beam creaking, the wind outside, what I could do to antagonise them enough to end me.

My legs hang like meat, my skin on fire as the thump of his hips against me continues. My wrists strain in the rope, skin tearing, blood dripping down my arms onto the dirt below.

His rhythm slows, deliberately dragging it out like he wants to savour every second.

Hands slide up to grip my breasts roughly as he fucks me like he earned this. As if the bite in his shoulder and the gouges in his face were the price he paid, and this is his reward.

“Got nothin’ left now, huh?” he pants against the back of my neck. “No claws. No teeth. No fight. Just this ruined body hanging quiet and obedient for me.”

He groans again, pressing in deeper like he wants to leave something permanent behind.

The two men behind him jeer again, but it’s all backgroundnoise now, blurred and distant.

Derek’s lips graze my ear, breath heavy and drunk on the power. “Took me a while, but I finally got what I was owed. You remember this next time you think too much of yourself, yeah?”

His grip tightens. His pace quickening. Every thrust is a jolt through my spine and a deeper tear on my wrists. Derek grunts louder now, panting like an animal. His fingers dig into my hips as he chases his release like a man who can’t find it anymore.

Derek groans, a sick sound hinting he’s nearly done with me. “This is what happens when you forget what you’re made for,” he growls. “You get corrected.”

Letting my head fall forward again, I try to leave my body. To be anywhere but here.

The world narrows. My vision blurs at the edges, Derek’s voice becoming muffled.

I drift, floating somewhere outside the pain.

My body and mind are disconnected but I can see what’s happening as if I’m standing next to myself, watching in horror.

Somewhere deep in my memory, their voices try to resurface, but they skip away again like sand through my fingers.

I’ve ruined everything.

They’d never touch me again.

Chapter 57

Myles

We’ve left a butcher’s trail through the farmhouse. Gore painted up the walls, covering the strange sigils on them.

We carved through every cult-fucker, but they kept coming. One of them swung a meat cleaver and caught Phoenix in the ribs before Zane dropped him.

There’s blood soaking our clothes, in our boots, in our mouths.

But my hands still shake on the machete handle.