42
Drip, drip, drip.
My head throbbed, and every drop reverberated in my ears like a drum. I pushed on the cold ground, attempting to sit up, but my muscles were weak and my thoughts hazy.
“Where am I?”
Water rolled into my eye, and when I swiped at the moisture, it momentarily blinded me. Confused, I kept wiping the incessant dribbling, but my sight only worsened as I smeared it. Slowly, I pulled my hand away from my face and gasped, horrified by the blood staining my skin.
It’s not water.
And like a freight train from hell, the memory of Ronan crashed into me.
“Oh god.”
The room was dim, with just a bed in a corner, bringing with it a twisted sense of deja vu.
“This can’ t be happening.”
Staggering to my feet, I shuffled toward a window, only to find it boarded with a thick piece of plywood. I wedged my nail through a small crack, hoping to get some leverage and possibly tear off the plank, but when I applied pressure, it lifted my nail bed, and I groaned in pain.
I leaned against the wall and slid down. How had I let this happen again? How had he found me?
More blood rolled and broke off the tip of my nose and onto my lap. That son of a bitch. He hit me even after I’d complied. But I knew that was what he wanted—all he’d ever wanted. For me to submit to him.
I ripped my shirt off and held it to my wound.
“Broken, but never weak.”
Ronan would never have power over me again, and I would never be a victim. Maybe I’d die fighting. But I’d take him with me.
“Santi,” I murmured, resting my head against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”
The door creaked open before I could wallow in regret, and I jumped to my feet, ready for death. But instead of Ronan, another man stood before me. A black patch covered his left eye, and a sinister grin crawled across his face.
Sasha.
The nightmare intensified.
My stomach plummeted, and the air in my lungs choked with flashbacks of his torture.
“Well, well, look who it is,” he taunted, stepping inside and snapping the lock into place. “Just like old times, eh?”
I was just a girl back then, weak and at his mercy. But things were different now.
Never again.
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, you still got that mouth on you, don’t you, witch ?” He moved in closer, and I took a step back. “But I know just how to break you in.”
As much as I wanted to bathe in his blood for what he’d done and the scars he’d left imprinted on my body and mind, I had to be cool .
“Please, just let me go.”
Sasha threw his head back and barked a laugh. “Surely, you know I can’t do that. And I don’t plan on it. You owe me. Boss took my goddamn eye when you slipped away.” He lifted the flap to his patch, revealing jagged skin melded together where an eyeball should have been.
I backed up another step. “You took everything from me, but I owe you?”
“As they say, an eye for an eye. I just can’t decide which one I want. Blue or brown?” A few more steps and he’d close the distance between us and decide our fate. “What do you think? Which one is your favorite? Because that’s the one I want.”
“Surprise me.”
His grin twisted. “Perfect. Now, get on your knees and call. Me. Sir.”
I reined my emotions with a deep, calming breath before they sent me into a spiral. He wouldn’t win this time.
Dropping to my knees, I leveled my gaze and held out my arms. “Come and get me.”
“That’s cute, but I’ll play.”
I had spent so many years reliving those horrific moments trapped with Sasha in that dank room, tied to the bedpost, naked and violated. I’d strategized how I could have escaped, what I could have done or said differently. But blaming myself for their deplorable acts wasn’t the answer. And getting even wouldn’t erase what he’d put me through—but it would feel damn good.
He hurled himself at me, expecting my submission, but my eye was on the blade at his hip. Maneuvering right at the very last second, I snatched the knife as he crumpled forward. Without a moment’s hesitation, I whipped around and ran the serrated edge through his lower back, then again into his side. Sasha growled and fell to his hands and knees.
“Look at you, crawling for me.”
“Oh, you bitch.”
“Wrong.” Eyeing the bloodied knife, I tightened my grip and buried it to the hilt into his ass. The screams and howls of dying men at my hand had all been uniquely satisfying. But Sasha’s fed my soul. “You’re my bitch now,” I said, twisting the knife deeper until his moans became strangled, and he collapsed into a sorry heap.
Straddling his torso, I knelt and clutched his hair, positioning the knife at his throat. As much as I would have loved to give him a more colorful send-off, maybe take his other eye and even out his face, time was not on my side. Ronan could have heard his cries and been kicking the door down any second.
The first layer of skin gave under the sharp edge, but as I pressed deeper through tissue, Sasha must have found an ounce more of fight in him. He twisted around and pierced deep beneath my rib cage with another knife I hadn’t known he was carrying.
Pain pinched my breath as I fell, blood pouring from my wound. My hand slipped when I attempted to scoot back and prop myself against a wall for support.
Sasha’s throat bubbled as he took his final breaths and died in a pool of his own blood.
“Shit,” I whined, clutching my side and squeezing my eyes closed as a light-headed sensation took over.
Was I dying?
Was this how it would end?
Santi…
Shaking my head, I forced my eyes open, dragged myself toward Sasha, and patted him down. I wanted to scream for utter joy when I felt his cell phone—I probably would have, if I’d had the energy.
Two rings, and then my favorite voice flooded my senses.
Already, I felt peace.