Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“You can’t make me eat.” I stare him down, squaring my shoulders in an attempt to make my five-foot-four frame look bigger in the wake of his massive presence.
A slow laugh rumbles from his throat. “I can make you do anything I fucking want.”
He keeps walking toward me, and I keep backing up until I’m against a wall. This seems to be a common theme—him stalking me until I’m against a wall.
“Jude,” I warn, but it comes out as more of a plea.
“Woman, eat the damn sandwich before I shove it down your fucking throat.” He holds it up in front of my face.
He wouldn’t. I recoil even more, until I’m flat packed against the wall. “Fuck—”
He cuts me off by cramming the sandwich inside my mouth. Actually forces it in! Motherfucker!
“Fucking chew and swallow,” he says.
Could he be a bigger arsehole if he tried?
I chew only because I’m afraid if I don’t he’ll actually force my mouth open and close himself, but I make sure to scowl at him the entire time.
He turns back to Caleb. “How long has it been since she’s eaten?”
Caleb shrugs. “She hasn’t eaten anything since she’s been with me.”
Jude let out a low growl. “I told you to fucking watch her!”
“Which I did...what do you want me to do? I’m not gonna force her to eat.” He shrugs and leans against the far wall.
“God, you’re a fucking idiot,” he grumbles, before turning back to me. He leans closer to me until I can feel the heat of his body, his breath on my cheek. His hand winds around the back of my neck, holding me in place. He’s so close, his presence blocking out everything. I automatically surrender under his touch as my breath seizes in my chest.
“Don’t make me have to deal with you myself, Victoria.” The way he says my name makes something inside of me tighten. What the hell is wrong with me? His thumb brushes over my throat. “I’d really hate to mark that pretty skin of yours again.” His voice is guttural and harsh, but his touch is gentle. My heart hammers against my ribs like a rabid animal. What the hell is he doing to me? I’m scared of him, but part of me doesn’t want him to take his hand off me. His touch is warm and, dare I say, comforting?
Oh, my god. I think I’m having some kind of psychological break! Maybe being locked in this room has made me delusional. I frown and wrench my face away from his touch. He huffs a small laugh, clearly entertained by my warped state of mind.
He turns away from me and walks to the door. He grabs the handle, then turns to his brother and takes his index finger, pressing it to the middle of Caleb’s forehead. “Fucking watch her and if you have to tie her the fuck down, chew up the fucking food like a mother bird, and spit it in her fucking mouth, make her eat!”
“You are a fucking psycho!” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him.
His head snaps back around. “You have no idea, little girl.”
Pointing at Caleb one last time, he snatches open the door. “Don’t fuck around.” Then he turns away from me, leaving the room. The door slams shut, making the picture on the wall rattle. I hear the lock click with finality.
I eat half of the stupid sandwich, because the last thing I want is Mr. Personality coming back in here. I sit on the bed with my back to the headboard, and my elbows propped on my knees.
“I did try to warn you,” Caleb says, lounging on the bed next to me.
“I know,” I say quietly. My hands are shaking, and I can feel my eyes welling with tears. For fuck’s sake. The hopelessness of the situation is finally dawning on me. I know too much. Whatever happens, they aren’t just going to let me walk out of here knowing all that I know about their criminal enterprise.
“I’m never getting out of here, am I?” I say. “He’s going to kill me.”
“No, he won’t kill you.” He shakes his head adamantly.
Several tears slip down my cheek and I lean forward, resting my forehead on my knees in an attempt to hide my face. I don’t do crying. Crying solves nothing.
“Ah, shit,” he groans, and I feel his arm wind around my shoulders as he pulls me into his side. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits with me.
“I thought you were cool,” I sniff, trying to change the subject and rein in my pathetic tears. “You sold me out.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that shit. You’ve gotta eat, you know?”
“So you told Mr. Fucking Understanding?” I pull out of his hold a little.
I like Caleb, and, weirdly, I trust him, but I can’t afford to get attached to him. He may be the friendly face of the operation, but he is still keeping me as a hostage.