Page 7 of Violent Little Thing

What Fresh Hell is This?

DELILAH

I try to part my eyes but it feels like someone pried them open while I was sleeping and poured an entire beach worth of sand in them.

I have to focus hard on opening them and when I do, the only thing I can see is a blur where the ceiling should be.

The rawness in my throat has me attempting to clear it.

But I can’t. Something calloused and heavy is wound around my windpipe.

Acutely aware of my arms at my side, I try to lift them but they stay planted against the bed. I can’t even wiggle my fingers.

Panic hits me fast and strong, and all I can do is lie here, blinking at the nothing my eyes can see.

I think I’m experiencing my first bout with sleep paralysis. Indigo told me about it, but I thought she was making it up.

This has to be what death feels like.

Oh God, am I dead ?

“She’s waking up,” a soft voice observes with zero urgency.

Okay, I’m not dead. But definitely being watched. Watched by who?

The invisible boulder sitting on my chest coupled with the stiffness in my neck has me desperate for answers.

Where am I?

Why are people talking in hushed tones about me?

The crook of my left arm is sore. Like a needle was there. So, a hospital?

I don’t hear any machines beeping.

And it doesn’t smell like a hospital.

However, there is a stench, and mortification riddles me when I realize it’s probably me.

How long was I out? Was I just sitting here in my own filth for?—

“Welcome back, I’m Dr. Silas. You’ve had an eventful thirty-six hours. Can you tell me your name?”

Not expecting my voice to work, I stammer, “Delilah.”

“Very good.” I can hear the scratch of a pen against paper before he says, “I’m a friend of Adonis, and I’ve been monitoring you for the last twenty-four hours. If you can, lift your right hand for me.”

Adonis ? Is that name supposed to mean something to me?

“Where am I?”

“Delilah, can you lift your right arm for me?” The doctor’s voice is measured. Patient .

And it’s only because of the kindness I can detect that I ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question.

Tingling in my fingers lessens my panic. I ball my hand into a fist and raise it off the bed to wipe the sleep from my eyes.

The figure beside me is no longer a blob, but a towering, brown-skinned man with close cropped curls and a stethoscope slung around his neck.

“Great. Now can you tell me your last name and the year?”

“Rose. 2026.”

He nods, a faint smile tugging his lips up. “Very good. Your vitals are back in normal range. We had a scare there for a while. The cocaine in your system did not interact well with the sedative.”

“Sedative?” I parrot.

Tucking his pen in his shirt pocket, he gives me another nod. “Yes. Ketamine.”

He says it so casually. Like I’m supposed to be okay with it.

“Had we known other drugs were in your system, I’m sure other measures would have been taken.”

“I-I don’t do drugs.” Except when my brother forces me to give up my virginity and tells me to do a line to relax. All it did was send me into the bathroom, paranoid while my heart tried to hammer its way out of my chest.

What else happened that night? Where is Weston? Am I sore because I lost my virginity? I’m almost happy I don’t remember. At least it’s over.

Dr. Silas breaks through my thoughts.

“No judgement. As a physician, it’s my job to treat you, no matter what. I can leave you with some resources before I go.”

A weary sigh leaves me. He doesn’t get it, and there’s too much static in my head for me to correct him, so I look around the space again, this time with clearer eyes.

The lone figure in the corner of the room makes panic surge inside of me.

He’s standing near the door, hands tucked in his pockets. I take in his unyielding posture and the hard set of his jaw. Rope twists shield the left half of his face from view, but there’s no mistaking the sinister air surrounding him.

“Where am I?” I ask again. This time I direct my question to the room, an open invitation for one of them to tell me what the hell is going on.

The man on the other side of the room steps forward, his imposing height more noticeable now that he isn’t ducked off in the corner.

“I’m Adonis. We met at the auction.”

Hearing the word auction triggers a flashback and suddenly I’m back in that tiny room, seconds after my brother smacked the desperate plea off my lips.

The only thing that makes the mental replay bearable is remembering the way my brother collapsed to the ground in a pool of crimson.

What came after that is fuzzy.

But what I do remember is launching myself at the man standing at the foot of this bed right now.

Spitting the blood in my mouth in his direction because I knew with my brother down, I was an easier target.

Then my vision went hazy while he looked at me with a cruel smirk.

The next thing I remember is this. Now. Here.

At least I went down fighting…

Indigo’s gonna be pissed when she sees the state of this dress. I’m nowhere near a mirror, but I can feel the layers of grime and filth coating it. I’ll have to pick up some extra shifts at the cafe to pay her back.

The smoky but distant quality of Adonis’ voice is like a shock collar pulling me back into the present. I run my eyes over the sharp lines of his face and his deep, amber skin .

“Your brother owes me a million dollars.”

What does he want me to do about it?

“You don’t know my brother if you think taking me is going to get you your money sooner.

” He’d just as soon let me rot here rather than pay back a debt.

It’s the Rose way. We borrow more than we can pay back.

Then we disappear like it never happened.

At least that’s what people think. I had the misfortune of watching it all firsthand and for a while there, my brother and father really did think they’d miraculously be able to pay back every penny they borrowed.

Until they got desperate. And that desperation led to more gambling and even more borrowing.

“That may be true. But until he wakes up from his coma and I can talk to him, you’re the collateral I choose.”

My stomach sours at his detached tone. It’s like he’s discussing a coffee order instead of my life.

“Did you have sex with me?”

He rears back like I slapped him. “I’m not a rapist, Ms. Rose. You’ve been unconscious for a day and a half.”

“But you were at an auction for my virginity. Excuse me if I’m having a hard time believing you have a moral compass.”

The last thing I expect is the roar of his next string of words. “I was there to collect what your brother owes me. That other shit has nothing to do with me.”

I swallow, reacquainting my throat with the movement as the lump lodged there loosens.

Wincing against the bitter taste in my mouth, I frown at the man staring down at me.

“I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, Mr. Adonis, but anyone willing to give my brother a loan is someone who deserves losing their money. ”

With a polite clearing of his throat and a bemused expression, Dr. Silas looks from me to Adonis and walks to the door. “I’ll leave you two to talk through that. Try to get as much rest as you can over the next week, Ms. Rose.”

I want to tell him there’s no chance in hell I’ll be getting anything resembling rest until I’m out of this place, but he doesn’t seem like a man inclined to care about those facts. So, I press my lips into a fine line, all my attention focused on the brooding man studying me.

He stares at me like I’m missing something, and that depletes the waning reserve of my patience.

“Keeping me isn’t going to work. I need to go home,” I tell him. I don’t know how I’m going to explain my no call-no show from yesterday to the cafe, but my trip home should be enough time to brainstorm an excuse. I just got that job.

A flicker of frustration passes over his face and I can’t decipher if it’s because of my nonchalance or his inability to read the room. I’m not scared of him. That must be new for him.

Because he’s not just tall, he’s damn near a wall. Hard lines and muscles and enough contempt in his gaze to scare the devil.

But I’ve already met the devil. Twice. And I didn’t live through that just to let some random man who has beef with my brother stop me now.

“I would like to go home, please.”

“I already told you the conditions of your stay, Ms. Rose. Get acquainted with this place because you’re going to be here for awhile.”

He turns away from me, a dismissal that feels like a slap in the face. The butt of a gun peeks from the back waist band of his pants.

“If you’re thirsty, there’s water on the table beside you. The bathroom is over there.” He gestures toward a door I didn’t notice before. “Go take a shower. You smell like the last thirty-six hours.”

“I need my phone,” I announce to his retreating back.

Adonis stops at the door that Dr. Silas walked out of. “You don’t get to make demands, Ms. Rose. Go take a shower. Dinner will be waiting for you when you get out.”

“I’m not doing anything without my phone.” I need to talk to Indigo. I need to text my job. I need to figure out how I’m getting out of here. If he can walk out of that manor with a whole human, I know he can get my phone.

His shoulders stiffen. “There wasn’t a phone in your bag.”

“Because they took it at the door. I want it back.”

“And I want my million dollars back.” There’s a finality in those words. Then he opens the door and slams it behind him.

When it’s just me in the room, I sit up against the headboard and glare at the door. “Asshole.”

Hate isn’t a word I throw around lightly, but I know in that moment I hate Adonis. And I plan to make his life a living hell until he lets me go. It’s the least I can do.