Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
My hands move before my mind catches up, and I push him away with all the strength I can muster. He captures my hands with ease, shoving them beside my head, banding them tight against the concrete wall.
“You disgust me,” he growls into my face.
I try to pry my wrists from his grasp, but I might as well be fighting a bear. I quickly give up struggling, especially when I notice the bulge in his pants.
Of course, this display of power turns him on. I hate how helpless I am right now and clench my teeth, gathering my wits to spit something hateful at him.
It will be worth it, even if he slaps me.
“If I’m so disgusting to you, then why is your hard dick in my face right now?”
He shuffles forward on the mattress, pressing against me now, so his zipper is practically in my face. “Maybe because the idea of putting a bullet in your brain turns me on. It’s not your body that turns me on or your innocent look. I’m not interested in all that pretty white skin. I want your blood on my hands and your brains at my feet.”
I recoil from his grasp, wanting to scream, to fight, but knowing that I can’t. This man won’t hesitate to snap my neck. It’s best to be docile and hope for the best. When he finally shoves me away, I gather myself into a ball against the seams of the wall to make myself appear harmless and less noticeable.
The man pushes himself to stand on the mattress, hovering over me. “You know your father once killed a toddler. An innocent child whose only crime was being born to the wrong family. I saw the body, the life drained from its eyes.”
No, no, no! I shake my head. My father would never. Yes, he is a bad man, who is heartless, but to kill an innocent child? He would do no such thing.
I press my hands to my ears and ignore his voice, ignore what he is saying, because it’s not true. My father wouldn’t harm an innocent child, would he?
“And what do you think happened to your sweet older sister, whose only crime was to defy him?”
My eyes go wide as I stare up at him, and my hands slide away from my ears. “Don’t you dare talk about my sister!”
“Don’t worry, there are plenty more dead bodies at your father’s feet. Hundreds, men, women, children, entire families slaughtered at your father’s whims. You’re going to pay for all of it. We will use you, break you, sell you so you can become the whore you were always meant to be. Blood for blood,” he sneers.
My hand moves without permission, and I don’t even think of the consequences or how badly this could be for me when I lash out and land a slap across his cheek. Not until a second after the hit when his rage-filled eyes zero in on me. His nostrils flare as he breathes through his nose, and his lips curl into a cruel snarl.
In that second, I realize the mistake I’ve made and that I may not make it out of this cell alive.
6
Nic
Lucas didn’t realize he touched a nerve, his thoughts so deep in his own internal battles. I, on the other hand, knew she was going to slap him before she even did.
As far as blows go, Lucas has seen much worse, but I know this has nothing to do with his pain and everything to do with his pride. Even if I don’t want to, I know that I have to intervene. If only to keep my new property from damage.
I make my presence known and stalk into the cell, grabbing his arm before he causes any damage. Celia’s wide eyes find mine, and for a moment, I can see the gratitude in them. Before I can digest how that makes me feel, I tighten my grip on my brother and shove him away from the bed.
Like a bull seeing red, he struggles until I close the door to her room, and he can no longer see her. Then his gray eyes clash with my own, and he huffs out a breath. I can see the hate—the pain and rage burning in his eyes. It’s suffocating and reminds me that Luca has had a much harder time handling what happened than I have.
“Feel better?” I ask.
He shakes his head, turns to the wall, and punches it. Violence. It’s his vice. When he faces me again, some of his anger has dissipated. Lucas and I have had a strained relationship for years. Our parents were killed when we were young. It was my job to protect him, and I failed. He fell into the same life I did. Not that I expected him to go off to college and get some kind of fucking degree. But I didn’t expect him to turn in on himself so much, to become a different person.