Page 121 of The Games of Madmen

Grasping the hem of my dress, he tears it, jostling my body around like a slaughtered animal, yanking until it comes away in his hands in pieces.

I can’t freaking move.

“Look at those tits. Jeremiah always fucking teased me about how good they were.” He gropes at me, his body covering mine, his breath dusting over my face, alcohol and stale heat.

“Stop it,” I plead, as I struggle to move once more, but my body remains stubbornly unresponsive. A wave of desperation washes over me, my mind screaming, but it’s like a raging undercurrent beneath a water’s still surface. There’s nothing I can do. It’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. He fucking planned this, brought a paralytic drug with him here.

Was it him who told Maddox and Vika not to invite the twins?

Teeth bite into the flesh of my tit, puncturing the skin, and pain blossoms there, but I grind my teeth to stop from crying out.

“I’ll mark every inch of you so when they come to identify you, all they will see is me everywhere.”

No. No. No.

His hand wraps around my throat, and my Roza blazes across my thoughts. I won’t see her start school, graduate, learn to drive, and find love. He squeezes until my breath cuts off and my eyes feel like they’re about to pop. I’m dying under this bastard’s hand.I’m sorry, baby girl.My madmen will never heal from this. When the darkness creeps in from the corners of my eyes, he releases me, and air rushes in, in desperate gasps, filling my burning lungs.

“They’ll kill you,” I choke. My throat feels like I swallowed glass.

Breathing heavily, he licks his lips, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “But my memory will be a stain on them for the rest of their lives,” he declares, his voice laced with a dark amusement. He lets out a low chuckle as he rises to his feet, the faint sound of metal clinking as he unbuckles his belt. With a swift motion, he pulls the leather strap free from the loops of his slacks, and in that moment, my heart feels as if it’s shattering into a million pieces.

“Don’t,” I croak, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You weren’t built for soft, Ally.” He snaps the leather across my skin setting a fire over my flesh. “You were meant to break under my hand.”

Whip. Sting. Fire.

“Cry for me, whore.”

Whip. Sting. Fire.

“I’m going to carve my name into your flesh, my bite, my cum, my scent.”

Whip. Sting. Fire.

Booting at my thigh to spread my legs, he repeats the action with the other leg and then stands on the soft tissue of my thigh, looking down at my center spread open. I can’t fucking move.Please move. Please move.

Where is everyone else? Where has he brought me?

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it,” I beg, hating the sound coming from my lips. “Help, help me.”

He doesn’t stop. “Look at that golden cunt that caused all this trouble.”

He drips saliva from his lips until it falls and splatters at my core. Then, he unbuttons his slacks and drops them to his ankles.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you bastard,” I growl, willing feeling into my fingers and getting nothing.

Dropping to his knees between my legs, he wraps the belt around my neck, looping it. “I’m going to do more than touch you. I own you now, Ally.” His disgusting little dick prods at my hole, and tears roll down the sides of my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to take myself anywhere but here.

Movement sounds, and instead of penetrating me, he lifts off me, a thump rings out, and then his weight is back, crushing me.

“Alyona?” The voice is a desperate plea, and my eyes spring open.

Vika?

A scream rips from my lungs. Anger, relief, hatred. “Get him off me!”

Straining with the weight of him, she shifts him from side to side until he falls off of my body and slumps to the floor. Blood drips from his head creating a crimson pool on the wooden floor beneath him.