Page 36 of Wrathful King

He punched the back of my head, making my world explode. Ignoring the pain, I twisted just in time to see him unfasten his jeans and tug them down. Sheer panic consumed my mind. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Then I headbutted him in the groin, his dick hitting my cheek.

I tried to crawl away from him, but he dragged me back. The stone tore at my flesh.

“I’m sick of your fire,” he growled, his palm crashing into the side of my face. He fisted my hair, then pulled my head and slammed it back onto the ground.

A soft whisper reminded me of what the doctor said.He doesn’t want to fuck a limp corpse.

I made my body go slack, closed my eyes, and waited. One breath. Two breaths. My heart pounded, not liking how vulnerable I was. My palms burned and a wave of goosebumps spread across my body as I silently begged for this to work.

He shook me like a rag doll. I let my head hit the stone, feigning unconsciousness. It wasn’t too hard with the drugs in my system. Another shake.

Don’t open your eyes.

He kicked me one more time. I bit the inside of my cheek, determined not to let out a sound. Perez let out a frustrated breath, then stomped away.

The door shut with a loud, metal clang.

I didn’t move, listening to his footsteps fading with each second until I could no longer hear anything.

Deep breaths, Reina. Hold on.Amon’s voice.Just breathe.

“Shut the fuck up,” I whispered to the ghost as images flashed through my mind. Our wedding. The gondola ride. The fireworks for our new beginning. Only to get a bitter end.

He no longer wants you,my mind whispered.You’re ugly. You’re scarred. You’re filthy.

“Shut the fuck up,” I repeated. My heart had broken. It was shattering with each breath, and that little organ would never be the same.Iwould never be the same.

That’s why he refused to pay the ransom.

The thought released fresh pain. And still, even knowing this, I was happy he was alive. Even though I’d never see him again, never feel his warm body, never breathe in his lemon and green apple scent. I rolled over, pawing my chest.

I curled into a ball, forcing the tears back, surprised to find there were still some left. I drifted, riding the thin line of sanity.

The ground shook beneath me. Or maybe it was my imagination playing tricksagain.

A voice followed. No… not just one. Many voices. Guns. The sounds of bullets reverberated through me.

My eyes snapped open in anticipation, only to find an empty room. Blood. Bodies lying dead in the corner. But no Perez.

The stench of death circulated in the cell. Soon it would take me too.

Then I’d be free. Maybe I’d choose a happy memory and stay in it forever. Swimming with Amon in the sea. No, the lanterns. That had been the most perfect night, just the two of us.

A noise slipped free from my throat, something between a cry and a laugh. I was trapped in hell and dreaming of heaven.

I was losing my mind. Or maybe it was already gone.

13

AMON

Rage. Hope. Despair.

Those were the three emotions circling through my body. It was hope that kept pushing me forward while the urge to burn the world—reduce it to ashes—consumed me.

The constant hum of the airplane’s engine somewhere over the Pacific as we made our way to Brazil should have calmed me. It didn’t. Instead, my reflection stared back at me, washed in violence and seething with self-loathing.

My fucking fault. I failed her. I should have protected her. It. Was. My. Fault.