Chapter 21 #3
“Fuck.” Scorpion jumped, hissing out under his breath, his head cocking to me.
“Where is Killian?”
Scorpion glanced around, his mouth pressing together before he bowed his head, pretending to work. His shade standing next to me at the sewing machines, as if he felt the extra strain it took for me.
“Probably in the hole. He lost it after what happened. They kicked the living fuck out of him and dragged him away.” Scorpion’s gaze went to Hanna and Rosie, then to the ground. His jaw rolled, fists clenching. “He was trying to protect them. Especially her.”
I already knew what her he was talking about—the image of Rosie being held back screaming. That sinking feeling dropped again, swirling the drain.
“Things got much worse here. Those old guards you knew became feral.”
I had seen it before I left, the wildness that took them over.
Scorpion glanced down the way again.
“What?” I muttered.
“And I think something’s wrong with Hanna.”
My attention went straight to her. This time I really saw how restless she was, fumbling with the stitching like she had lost her basic skills.
Istvan had given her the pills too. Only for a day or two, but what if it was enough? The change happened quickly with Killian’s group.
Scorpion’s shade grunted, our link cut, drawing me back across the room. A guard belted him with a club, telling him to pick up his pace.
I gritted my teeth, feeling the acid burn into my nose and back down my throat. Fury gurgled in my stomach over the pain and torment my friends have gone through, the sexual, mental, and physical abuse they have endured.
A group of three guards sauntered in, pulling my focus. Their egos entered before they did. I had never seen them before, but they trotted in as if they owned the place, zeroing in on one person.
“Kurva!” A dark-haired boy of around twenty called to her, fae essence puffing up his chest, reminding me so much of Kristof, the same arrogant entitlement.
Rosie sucked in, but her body reflected nothing as she continued to sew.
“I called you, picsa.” He came behind her, grabbing her head.
Rosie would always be pointed out, be the one treated as if she deserved being abused because of what she had done for her livelihood.
A man forced her into that life so she could survive, and now they blamed her for it.
Just because Rosie had sex for money in the past didn’t mean this was no big deal. It was still rape.
He tugged on Rosie’s hair, pointing across the table to Hanna. “My friend Petro wants you. And Josef here wants you, Blondie.” He nodded at Birdie. He clutched Rosie’s scalp, getting her to rise. “Now move!”
“No!” Nora cried out, rising from her seat, her hand reaching for her daughter as Petro yanked Hanna up. Another guard pulled out his baton, striking her on the back of the head.
“Anya!” Mom. Hanna screamed as Nora flopped over her sewing machine, knocked unconscious.
Birdie was forced to her feet, her hands in balls, her face locked like stone. Josef’s hands were already rubbing over her breasts.
I couldn’t let this happen.
Standing, I felt my lungs pumping with rage. “Don’t fucking touch them,” I seethed.
The three men stopped, turning around, shocked someone had the audacity to say something.
“Excuse me?” The main guy blinked at me, then paused.
“Well, well, hello.” His gaze ran down my body and over my face.
“You are fucking stunning. Think I’d rather have your mouth around my dick anyway.
” He shoved Rosie into the table, strolling to me.
He was about an inch shorter than me, but he tried to puff himself up.
“Must teach you some manners. Punish that mouth for speaking when it wasn’t told to—you got a lot to learn, new fish. ”
“Fish?” I slanted my head, curving one brow. “You are mistaken.” I smiled tightly. “I’m a fucking piranha.”
As if Warwick felt what I needed before I even knew what I was going to do, he poured his strength into me, moving me quicker than usual, fluid and precise.
My knuckles struck his throat. He stumbled back, choking for air, his fingers clawing at his throat.
I jumped forward, ramming my fist into Josef, blood spraying from his nose, the force knocking him to the ground as Petro leaped for me.
Spinning, my boot kicked him right in the crotch, dropping him instantly.
Yells boomed off the high ceiling, twirling me back toward the room. Guards from everywhere in the vast warehouse ran for me, weapons drawn.
I saw Warwick out of the corner of my eye, starting to run to me, the heavy cinder shovel in his hands, but he stopped short, his attention on the doorway.
I tried to follow his gaze when electricity zapped through my body, locking me in place as agony tore and sliced through every nerve and muscle. My frame crashed to the ground, flopping and jerking, spitting and choking.
It stopped, and I gasped for air.
Boots struck the ground, a face peering over me. “Can’t even make it an hour.” Boyd’s smug smile blurred in my vision. “He said as long as you’re standing tomorrow night.” He hit the button again.
My body shut down, protecting itself from the onslaught of utter agony.
Like that should be anything new.