Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
He has the creeper vibe down pat, and I’ve been fighting for over forty-eight hours. I’m tired, and I am not the only one noticing. “What happened, princess? Did the cat get your tongue?”
I’d smile at him sweetly if I wasn’t also gagged. Kirill’s men are weak. They can’t handle a woman like me. That’s why they chained me to the wall of the orlop before tying my feet together. They think it will slow me down. Little do they know two feet hurt more than one.
“You fuckin’ bitch,” snarls the man with a long snout and pointy chin.
He should thank me for the instant swelling my kick awards his face with. It makes him not look like such a rat.
Too scared to approach me alone, he orders one of the two men he arrived with to grab my feet before telling the other to keep watch. “I ain’t fucking waiting. It is time for this bitch to learn a lesson.”
I can’t see the third man’s features. He’s in the shadows of the windowless, lightless room, but I can feel his tension when the goon with a scar down one side of his face fights past the thrashes of my legs until he pins them to the ground with his chunky weight.
“Get the fuck off me,” I try to scream through the gag. I kick, scream, and wail so much, within seconds, my arms are on the verge of being popped out of their sockets for how far they’re forced to stretch, and the shirt I tossed on after changing two nights ago rides up high on my stomach. “No.” I wiggle and fight when the rat-faced man shifts his focus to the fastener of my jeans. He doesn’t pop it open. He digs the dip of his blade in next to the zipper, right around the area my uterus sits.
I realize this is about far more than rape when he angles his head so I have an unobscured view of his face before he tugs out my gag. His lips arch up as a vile, heinous gleam glares through his eyes. “We can go about this two ways. A quick, relatively painless jab or drag the bastard out of you from the inside out.” He takes a minute to drink in my whitening cheeks before saying, “I’d rather option A. You’ll still be a good fuck even with your gut cut up and bleeding, but the second will be a quicker recovery. Though I doubt you’ll want that when you learn how many men are lining up to fuck you.” I yank away when he brushes a strand of hair clinging to my sweaty cheek. “They’ve been dying for the chance since Alek announced you couldn’t be touched. Some are coming up to an eight-year wait.” He drags his hand from my face, over my breasts, and down my navel until it stops at the apex of my pussy. “So what’ll it be, precious?”
I spit in his face when he dares to use Alek’s nickname. “Only one man has ever called me precious, and he will remain the only person to call me that.”
“He’s fucking dead.” He angrily wipes at the ball of spit on his cheek, missing the rueful shake of my head. I’d know if Alek were dead—I would feel it in my bones. He’s coming back for us. I just have to keep us alive until he does. “Dead men can’t call you jack fucking shit.” His expression turns stoic as he digs the knife in deep enough to stain my jeans with a red blotch. “And I’m done playing nice. Kirill wants your bastard taken care of, and I want your blood coating my cock for reasons other than an abortion, so I guess we’re going with option one.”
A scream bubbles in my chest, but before I can release it, a knife juts across leathery skin, silencing both my panic and the goon’s vicious taunts.
As the man holding my legs down eyes dart up, the third man removes a gun from a holster. He doesn’t get the chance to plead for forgiveness. He barely squeaks out a P when Feo takes him out with a bullet between his brows.
I suck in breaths like I am on the verge of a panic attack. I’m not. I am more relieved than worried, but I’d have to book myself for a mental evaluation if I didn’t respond to someone’s brain splattering on my face.
“Fuck.” Feo stores his gun away before pulling the second goon off my legs. After checking the coast is clear, he uses the blade he skidded across the first assaulter’s neck to remove the rope from my ankles. “I thought I’d just have to keep an eye on you.” He pffts himself like he should have known better. “They don’t waste time, do they?”