Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then I shift my arm and twist my wrist around so the tie cuts into my skin. Blood drips, but I don’t stop until the moisture and the angle allow me to slip my hand from the tie.
It falls limp at my side, the feeling slowly returning since I’ve been able to stand for a while now, restoring blood flow, but it’s useless for the moment. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need two hands to kill this asshole.
He doesn’t see me coming. His focus is on Priscilla. But she does. The second she spots me over the man’s shoulder, she sinks down, trying to drop out of his grasp to cover her head and keep herself safe. So she can be smart, even if she wasn’t willing to fight this asshole.
I grab the man’s shoulder and slam him face-first into the wall. He bounces off it, and the rock ensures he comes away with a bloody nose. Hopefully, it’s broken.
He swings at me, but I’ve got more experience than him, so I dodge the punch. It sends him off balance, and I use the opportunity to slam him into the wall once more. Blood sprays in a fan, dotting me and Priscilla, where she’s tucked herself into the corner, hugging her knees.
The guard staggers, and I hold the collar of his shirt, but I look at her. “What’s his name?”
She blinks, only realizing I’m speaking to her. “A-A-Andre. His name is Andre.”
I pat his cheek, my hand finally usable. I flex my fingers and then meet his eyes. “And has Andre pulled this shit before? You get locked in here, and he decides to come in and see if you need a little help with whatever drug you’re doped up on that day?”
She whimpers and nods hard, then hides her face again.
“Oh, Andre, I have bad news for you. I always keep my promises. You’re about to die, but I want to find out how bad that death will be first. How many times have you visited Cilla here, would you say? Once…?”
His eyes go wide, and I know it’s not once. “Twice…five times? Give me a number.”
When he doesn’t answer, I nudge Cilla’s foot with my own. “How many times has this asshole raped you?”
She sobs and then whispers, “I don’t know. Too many to count.”
Andre sputters. “Whoa, hey now. I never raped her. She always begs me for it.”
Wrong fucking answer, asshole. I slam his face into the wall again. It feels good to feel his blood spray fresh again. All over the wall, my hand, my chest. My patience is done, and I continue to slam him face-first into the wall while I scream at him. “If she is drugged out of her mind, she can’t beg for it, you fucking prick. That’s called rape.”
She cries softly, and I can hear each little sob over Andre’s muffled groans. I don’t stop slamming his face until his body goes limp, and I have to drop him. I let him fall at her feet in a heap, then step over him to get to her.
She’s covered in as much blood as I am, but I don’t care. I drag her to her feet by the upper arms, back her into the door, and press myself along her body. I want nothing more than to wrap her legs around my hips and fuck her into the steel. It doesn’t matter, though, because I won’t. Not while I’m drugged, and I don’t know if she is. “Why didn’t you fight him?” I scream in her face.
She flinches and closes her eyes, turning the same way as him, trying to keep her face safe from my wrath.
“Answer me,” I growl.
Again, she says nothing, only sobs, tears making streaks through the blood on her cheeks.
I back away, needing distance before I do something I might regret. If a woman needs to be killed, I don’t care if I’m the one to do the job, but I don’t want to hurt her. If I keep coming at her in this state, then I will. That’s something I can never take back.
I reel around the cell, the walls too tight, too close. There’s nowhere to go, no distance to be had.
She sobs, and I pound the walls with my fist. “Stop fucking crying. Stop it. Why the fuck didn’t you fight him?”
Another sob, then a sniffle. “He always wins and takes what he wants anyway. It’s pointless to fight. I learned that a long time ago. Fighting only leaves you more broken when it’s done.”
I hit the wall again, feeling the pain up my arm and into my elbow. My wrist is still bleeding, and I’ll need to deal with it soon, but first, I need to calm down. We need to get out of here.