Page 37 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

The man ignores him entirely, and I feel his dick prod against me, flesh on flesh but no pressure.

It renews one last desperate attempt inside of me, because I can't lay here and let this happen. I definitely can't lay here and let this happen while my husband is unable to help.

I jam my head back, just enough to knock the gun out of position, and my skull connects with my assailant's face. He growls, but his grip on me falters as he reels, and I get just enough space to scramble out from beneath him.

The phone is on one side, and Vin and escape are on the other.

I scramble toward my husband even though it means darting past my attacker, reaching out for Vin's hand like he can reel me toward him.

My hand is still out when I'm taken to the ground again, and this time, something tells me I won't be getting up again. Maybe it’s the way every bit of air inside of me rushes out so fast that my lungs seize entirely in protest. Maybe it's the gunshot, the way it rings in my ear as it whizzes past me.

Maybe it's the gasp that comes from Vin as his eyes widen with shock and blood blooms on his shirt.

His legs falter, so he grips the wall a moment before he slides down it, falling to the floor right in front of me.

He's so close, but I'm trapped beneath the shooter, and Vin isn't reaching out for me… he can’t. He can’t move, shock already setting in.

His eyes go to the figure behind me, his weight pinning me to the ground as if I would fight him off again.

But I can’t. I can’t move, even if he wasn’t stopping me, because I don’t think my body is taking commands right now.

Everything hurts too much to move, but I watch my fingers twitch as if they’re trying to bridge the space between me and Vin.

"Don't worry." The man chuckles darkly. "You've got a few minutes before you go. You'll get to watch me fuck your pretty wife before you die. I know you like watching."

I'm distantly aware of his words, like they're spoken from outside a forcefield, as I focus all of my attention on trying to get Vin's focus, to get him to look at me and not his killer.

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe he shouldn't witness what's about to happen, but I need him. I need him, because if I focus on him, maybe I can escape the horror of what's coming.

I can't.

There's no escaping, not in any form, as his hands grab my hips and jerk them off the ground, back toward him. He’s quick to shift one hand to the back of my head, making sure I don’t get any leverage to get free.

His other arm wraps around my waist, squeezing against my bladder and trapping me as he wedges my thighs apart with his own legs.

And then he guides his dick between my thighs.

There's nothing for me to grab hold of as he forces his way inside of me. I claw at the ground for purchase that never comes, like maybe that will allow me to pull myself away from him, toward Vin…

It happens far too easily, the pain of the intrusion blunted by the horror of the reality as he shoves himself deep inside of me in a single, ruthless thrust.

The intrusion steals my breath, which gets caught in my chest as everything narrows down to what’s happening inside of me. I choke on a strangled sob, hating how easy my body made it for him to be in a place I don't fucking want him, that I couldn’t keep him out.

“Such a tight little cunt.” The man grunts, and everything in me starts to die a slow death.

"Please!" I sob again as he remains sheathed inside of me, stretching me, holding me hostage, unmoving.

He groans, savoring the moment.

There’s no urgency, no fear of being caught.

I want to reason with him that it's not too late. He could stop and leave now and...

It's obviously too late.

He shot Vin.

My husband is dying right in front of me, his breathing shallow.

"Please,” I gasp, “stop."

It’s my last desperate plea, my last hope of relief before he reaches a point of no return. My brain won’t work well enough to consider how to get him to reconsider this, but it assures me there has to be a chance.

My body knows there is no chance. The heavy breaths tell me he’s enjoying himself too much, the sound of skin slapping skin promising there’s no de-escalating things, no use fighting, no use pleading.

It’s hard to breathe already, my ribcage rocking against the ground and squeezing the air from my lungs with each movement.

The hand on my neck slips around to my throat as he yanks me back toward him, trapping me in place with him buried inside of me so deep that my stomach hurts.

"You're so fucking wet for someone begging me to stop."

And he's right.

He's right, because I can feel how easily he's moving inside of me.

I don't understand. I'm not attracted to him, not turned on by this violation, not aroused by the pain.

I'm repulsed, horrified.

I can’t breathe, and every cell in my body crawls with disgust at his intrusion.

As he shoves me back to the ground, too fast for me to stop myself from hitting hard, I want to die.

I think maybe I do.

Or maybe it's just the part of me that carries my husband, the part of me that watches as the life slips out of his eyes, as he watches my body being manipulated, twisted, shaped into whatever it needs to be to give my attacker what he wants.

"Vin..." I sob, still reaching out for him, like maybe he'll find it in him to move toward me, to gift me this one small comfort in the end of our lives.

I tell myself I'll find him in whatever comes after this, and none of this pain will matter.

But as the man behind me begins to move, pulling his cock back and shoving it in deeper with each thrust, I know I’m lying.

This pain will always matter, because it’s not just the pain. It’s the humiliation, knowing this is what my husband is seeing in his final moments.

"Please..." I don't know what I'm begging for, but as the pain doubles and reaches deeper, I beg for an end to it, whatever form that end takes.

Tears blur my vision, and I stop trying to blink past them because they keep coming, saturating my cheeks.

He was right.

I'm wet.

I can feel it, distantly, between my thighs.

But it's not arousal, not from being turned on by this.

It's not because he's forcing my body to give him the pleasure I can hear in each of his grunts.

I know as much when I feel it dripping out from around him on his retreat, when the cramping hits in between each vicious thrust, growing more violent as his movements become sloppier and his orgasm nears.

His nails are in my back, tearing my skin from me as his frenzy unfurls into something chaotic.

I've already surrendered, died a little, so I don't move as he grips my hair in his fist, pulls my head back, and slams my skull into the ground.

Something wet trickles down my forehead, but I don't feel pain even as he draws my head back again. It's blood, I realize when it drips into my eye and stains everything crimson.

I chance a glance at Vin. I can't tell if he's breathing or not, but I hope he's already gone.

He may not know it, but I'm sure that he just watched our baby die inside of me. I’m sure that the cramping down low is exactly what it feels like… my body protesting the intrusion and what it’s taking from me.

My baby.

Vin doesn't need to watch me die, too.

Please, let him go first.

"All this time!" The man grunts, his nails putting gouges in my skin as he traps me in place, like I'd still try to fight him. As if there's any point now. "This is what I was missing?"

I don't focus on his words, or his thrusts, or the pain that's tearing me apart from the inside out as the cramps try and expel everything inside of me.

I don't focus on anything at all as he slams my head down once more... one last time.

He keeps it there this time, his fingers sprawled against the back of my head, pulling strands of my hair as his fingers flex there.

His breaths are heavy, erratic, and uncontrolled. Just like his movements, the way he pounds into my body despite the fact I'm dying.

I hear him gasp as he comes, but I’m numb between my legs. I don’t even feel him there anymore until he thrusts one last time so deep inside of me that it knocks air from my chest I didn't know was there.

I cough violently as my lungs spasm like they've just realized they were giving up.

I don't move when he slips out of me, don't do anything to let him know that I'm alive. Not because I'm playing dead, but because I'm waiting for it.

He blots out the light from the ceiling fixture as he moves around to look at me, his cock still out, tipped red with blood.

Mine or my baby's. Maybe both.

Another cramp rolls through me, and I close my eyes around the tears still streaming from my face.

It will be over soon.

I can feel his eyes on me as I wait for him to grant me death.

It comes in the form of a kick to the stomach... a white hot explosion that sends agony shooting through every nerve ending I have, stealing my breath, making my eyes fly open as I try to gasp in some oxygen, my body clearly at odds with my mind.

Survival instincts try to win, but in the end, they fail.

They fail before he ever walks away, when he holds his softening cock in his hand and groans as something wet splashes around me, drenching my broken body in his piss.

"Troja."

I don't even have it in me to feel disgusted or humiliated. I feel nothing as he steps away from me, turning instead to Vin.

But I never hear what he says, and I don't see what he does, because my eyes close.

This time, they don't open again.