Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Sarah says nothing, but she glances past me, and I turn to follow her stare, finding she’s looking toward the staircase that leads up to the communal room. Something shifts in my gut—something I don’t like. And before my brain can engage and tell me it’s terror, I’m flying up the stairs like a man possessed and bursting through the doors.
I stagger to a stop, breathless, as I scan the space before me. Naked bodies. Everywhere. Moans of pleasure, of pain, of complete and utter ecstasy. And I hate that I’m looking at each woman, searching for my girl, the thought of her with another man paralyzing me. I understand. She wants to punish me, to give me payback for betraying her. God help the man who has accepted her offer. I’ll crush every bone in his fucking body.
But I recognize none of the bodies. I recognize none of the moans. And then like a poorly timed showreel, images of Ava’s body, every limb and every curve, pass through my mind, reminding me of her perfection, reminding me that she doesn’t belong in this dark, decadent world.
I jolt forward when John collides with my back, the force knocking me out of my trance. “Fuck no,” he breathes, and I instinctively turn my head slowly to my right.
And I see her.
Dangling lifelessly from some shackles, her head heavy and limp, her eyes closed. And then her body swings a little, and her back comes into view. “No,” I whisper, grabbing John’s shoulder to hold myself up, my legs losing all feeling. The mess of her back. The sight of her barely conscious, her head limp. A strangled whimper escapes me, just as a crop whips the air and lashes her back on a deafening crack. Her head flies back, and for the first time I see the pain in her expression.
It causes me more pain than anything physical could. God help me, I feel like someone just reached into my chest and ripped my black heart out. I look to the man holding the whip. Steve Cooke. Jesus Christ. The pleasure on his face has me blinking back my rage. Then he raises his arm again.
“Noooooooo!” I roar, forcing my legs to cooperate, running to the other end of the communal room as Ava jerks, the metal of the shackles clanging loudly. People jump from my path—all sick motherfuckers enjoying the show. They’ll never step foot in this place again.
I reach her, and my useless hands go on a feeling frenzy across her skin, my mind not giving me the instructions to free her. “Jesus. Ava, no. John!” I shout. “Release her hands!” I hear John cursing, feeling the pound of his boots beneath my feet, as I spew constant words of utter disbelief, of despair. “John, fucking hell, get her down.” I stroke and feel, scan her face, say her name, my heartbeats becoming faster and faster as John works quickly to release her. She drops into my arms like a stone, limp and lifeless. What has she done? How could she? “Ava?” I negotiate her in my arms, trying my hardest not to touch the welts on her back. It’s impossible. She flinches, chokes. Fuck!
I cast my eyes around the silent room, seeing disturbed expressions on the faces of all the members standing motionless, watching this horror show. The sick thing is, I know they’re not horrified by what they’ve witnessed happening. They’re disturbed by my reaction. This is just a normal day in the office for these hedonistic, twisted fucks.
My eyes land on Steve. He’s a dead man walking, and judging by the wideness of his eyes, he knows it. “Don’t let him go anywhere,” I growl, making sure he sees the psycho in my stare before I stride away, my focus forward, ignoring the constant gasps of shock as I go.
Kate rounds the gallery landing, racing toward us. “What the fuck?” she breathes, taking in Ava’s lifeless body in my arms before looking at me in question.
I flick John a discreet look over my shoulder, knowing he’ll be tailing me, and he intervenes, blocking Kate from coming after me as I pass her. “Give him a chance,” John says quietly.
I pace through The Manor to my office, people moving out of my path, giving me space, or a wide berth, and kick the door of my office open and shoulder it shut. I go to the couch, keeping Ava close to my chest as I lower to my arse. “You stupid, stupid girl,” I whisper raggedly, burying my face in her neck and breathing deeply. “You crazy, stupid girl.” I’ve felt a pain so intense before. A hopelessness so debilitating. I’m back to where I started.
For the life of me, I can’t fathom her reasoning or process a revenge so cruel. My head is in disarray, nothing making sense to me. All I know is the woman I love with a power even I find difficult to comprehend, is in my arms, weak and bleeding. Because of me. And I have no idea how to fix this mess.