Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
NORTH CAROLINA
A dria sat in her office, watching the rain carve glistening trails down the windowpane. The world outside had darkened, swallowed by the encroaching night, but she remained awake. Waiting.
For the inevitable. For the end.
Bryson, Kaydon, and Seth had been put to bed, their bodies exhausted, their souls fraying at the edges. But sleep would not come for her.
Not tonight.
Her fingers traced the corner of the folded note from Teo’s contact.
“Jonathan’s here.”
Eric’s voice cut through the stillness.
Adria inhaled deeply, watching a single raindrop tremble at the top of the glass before slipping downward—slow, deliberate, inevitable.
Just like this.
Closing her eyes, she willed her expression into something unreadable.
Loretta had offered to stay. Eric had insisted on more guards. But she had refused them all.
She was done running .
Whatever this was—whatever the Triune’s decision—it would end tonight.
Outside her father’s old office, Crest stood like a monolith of violence, his expression carved from stone.
Adria’s pulse remained steady, and she met his gaze, unflinching. This was the man responsible for cutting into Kaydon’s back.
For enforcing Jonathan’s will.
“Only Miss Federov,” he said, looking at Eric.
Eric moved to argue, but Adria put her hand on his forearm.
“I’ll be all right.”
Eric’s hard face told her he didn’t agree, but he stood aside, allowing her to move through the threshold.
Once in the room, Adria heard the large door shut behind her, leaving Eric and Crest in the hallway.
“Quite the show you put on today,” Jonathan said.
He stood with an arm on the mantel, looking into a roaring fire.
“I had to redirect the tension. Your methods, while effective, are unheard of at Club Shale.”
He looked at her, his face framed in firelight.
“That was not what I saw,” he said. His eyes tightened and his lips curled downward.
Adria forced herself to stand still, denying the step back her body was screaming for.
“I did my job,” she said, voice steady.
He took a long gulp of his drink, eyes already glassy.
“The Triune felt the display was acceptable,” he said, swirling the remaining amber liquid in his glass.
Adria let out the breath she was holding. Her hands flexing, it was hard to hide the relief she felt.
“That is great news.”
He strode towards her, each step punctuated by the thud of his shoes. His form backlit by the flames, and Adria watched shadows billow around him .
“Sell them to me, Dri,” he said, face close, eyes hard.
“No.”
There was no hesitation. No indecision. She wasn’t even surprised at how firm her voice sounded.
They were not for sale.
Not for Jonathan.
“No?” Jonathan probed, clearly wanting more.
“Why do you want them so bad?” she asked.
He moved closer, his breath hot, his eyes wide. “Why do you?”
“I—” Her voice caught in her throat.
Don’t want them.
But that wasn’t exactly true.
“I have a buyer,” she finished.
“Mine can pay more.” His body crowded hers, his arms stiff at his sides.
He wanted this.
He was right in front of her now, the flames of light curling around him, like some sort of horror film.
“I’ve made my decision,” she said.
It was done. She stared into his cold face. The Triune was happy. He could not hurt her.
“I am going to ask you to leave,” she said, moving towards the door.
His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.
“Jonathan, don’t,” she said, pushing her palm against his chest.
He leaned in, burying his nostrils in her hair, inhaling deeply.
“Why not?” he asked, still buried in her hair. “Because you’ll give the Triune that little photo of me?”
She pressed harder on his chest, desperately wanting to end the embrace, but he only held her tighter.
“Say it!” he yelled into the room, and she flinched in his arms .
With as much conviction as she could muster, she said, “I’ll do it, don’t try me.”
But even she could hear the waver in her voice.
A smug smile crept over his face, still inches from hers. “No, I don’t think you will.”
He let her go, moving back to the fire for another drink. Adria concentrated on the raging flames, hoping their warmth would combat the chill moving up her spine.
“I don’t think you ever had any intention of letting what happened here see the light of day, or…” He eyed her. “Perhaps there is no such photo.”
Adria shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak. She had gone to great lengths to keep Jonathan away.
Built a prison and threw away the key. But the prisoner was loose, and now she struggled to find the words to put him back in.
“I have them,” she said, raising her chin, but found it hard to hide the tremble in her jaw.
Moving away from the fireplace, he advanced on her. Adria tried to scream, but his large hand clamped over her mouth before a sound came out. Her body twisted so her back was pressed against his chest.
“Show them to me,” he said, his voice threatening.
She whimpered under his hand, and he leaned in close to her ear. “No? Well, you know what that means, don’t you?”
The fire popped and crackled behind them.
“You always did need a firm hand to help keep you in line,” he said, releasing her mouth and turning her to face him.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she willed them away, but not before a small drop escaped.
Jonathan caught it with his index finger. “Gotcha,” he said .
His finger carried the single tear carefully to his mouth, before licking it clean.
“Mmm, just like I remember it.”
His breath smelled like old whisky.
Her father’s office, the fire, it was straight out of her nightmares.
Her stomach churned.
Jonathan moved to her father’s desk, grabbing a leather briefcase. Unfastening it, he removed a stack of paper.
“Sign this contract tonight, sell the boys to me, and I’ll leave here right now.”
The gravity of his words pulsed into her core.
Her hands shook as she approached the papers. If she gave Jonathan the brothers, they were as good as dead. Adria knew it deep in her soul.
Just like she knew—she was dead if she didn’t .
She thought of Eric and Loretta. She knew what they would say. Except they hadn’t lived the life she had. They didn’t know what it was like to live every day, afraid of becoming the person you hated the most.
She took a breath. “Like I said, I have another buyer.”
She had protected them earlier today, and she would do the same now.
“That is unfortunate,” Jonathan said, removing his belt.
She thought about screaming again. But what would that do? She didn’t need Eric or anyone else hurt because of her choices.
Jonathan unzipped his pants, pulling out his impressive cock. It was unfortunate that someone so cruel should have been blessed with an appendage like that.
If there was a God, Jonathan would have been born with a shriveled raisin, but instead he was born with that.
He pressed down on her shoulders. Pain shot through her knees as she dropped to the floor, and her mouth opened without prompting.
She choked on his first thrust. There was no gentleness in his movements. He didn’t allow her to adjust as he jack hammered mercilessly into her mouth. Gripping the back of her head, he forced himself deeper as she gagged and choked around him.
Her hands stayed behind her back, and eventually her mind drifted. It was a trick she had learned.
She didn’t have to be here.
After a moment, her head was tossed backward and his penis removed.
Adria moved as she had been trained to. Taking off her clothes, she positioned her naked body across the armrests of the couch.
How many times had she done this as a child, as an adolescent?
Fear clawed at her insides, but Adria fought to keep it at bay.
The fire crackled near her, and she concentrated on its heat. Imagined the warm glow touching her skin, lending her its power. His hand rained down a flurry of smacks. He repeated over and over what a dirty, bad, little girl she was, but his voice was distant as she disappeared into the crackling flame.
Silence and the lack of pain brought her back to her body.
“This is boring,” his cold voice said from behind her.
Adria didn’t understand.
A brutal grip seized the back of her neck, wrenching her off the couch like a rag doll.
The world spun.
Before she could brace herself, Jonathan threw her to the ground.
Pain lanced up her spine, but there was no time to process it—his hand shot out, wrapping around her throat with the unyielding force of a vice.
He squeezed.
Then lifted her, feet dangling above the floor.
“You are not this person,” he snarled, slamming her against the wall.
White-hot agony radiated through her skull. Her body screamed for oxygen, her lungs burning, her fingers clawing uselessly at his grip.
The pressure increased.
Her kicks weakened. Black spots danced in her vision.
Jonathan leaned in, his breath hot, mocking. “Do you think you can shut me out?”
His grip tightened.
“Do you think you can pretend you’re somewhere else?”
Her head swam. Panic clawed at her ribs.
Jonathan’s sneer deepened. His pupils swallowed his irises, his gaze a black abyss.
“Think you can imagine you’re with him ?”
Then—he let go.
She hit the floor, gasping, choking on her own desperate inhalation.
The next hit landed like a wrecking ball. A brutal punch to the gut. Pain exploded outward, her body folding in on itself as she wheezed for air. Her stomach clenched violently, vision tunneling.
Jonathan’s fingers locked around her arm, dragging her across the room, her limbs weak and unresponsive.
The next moment, she was flying—her body slamming into a glass end table. A decanter of alcohol shattered upon impact, raining further shards of glass onto the floor.
A scream tore from her lips.
Somewhere outside, a struggle raged. It seemed Eric and Crest were fighting in the hallway .
A boot to her shoulder flipped her onto her back. Her breath hitched as tiny slivers of glass dug into her bare skin. Blood—warm, slick—ran in tiny rivers across her ribs.
She blinked up at him.
The knife gleamed in his hand.
The room tilted. Everything slowed.
Two things became terrifyingly clear.
One—he wasn’t nearly done.
Two—he was going to kill her.
The weight of that truth settled over her like a shroud. Adria wasn’t about to be tortured to death.
Not by him.
If she was going to die, it would be on her own fucking terms.
She let out a breath. A sharp, hollow laugh. “You always were pathetic.”
Jonathan’s expression twisted.
“Always trying to get my attention.” She spat blood at him. Mocked him. “You wanted me. You always did.”
Jonathan’s nostrils flared. His fingers twitched around the knife. She kept pushing. Kept driving the blade deeper. “Take whatever you can, but you will never have me.”
Rage flickered behind his eyes.
Good. Let it burn.
“You'll always be lesser.”
His lip curled.
“You were with my father. And you sure as hell are with me.”
The room crackled with energy. His breathing matching hers, wild, erratic.
Kill me, you fucker. She dared. Or don’t you have the guts?
Jonathan’s jaw locked.
His boot drove into her chest, crushing her ribs, smashing her breasts beneath his weight .
But she didn’t scream. She didn’t break.
She smiled. “You don’t scare me anymore.”
Jonathan’s expression shattered into something feral. He reached down, grabbing the belt from the floor. Slow. Deliberate.
His voice dropping into a cold whisper.
“I think you’ve earned some big-girl punishments.”
The fire light cast dancing shadows along his face. The belt came down suddenly, causing her to scream in pain as it struck her face, sides, chest, and abdomen. Adria attempted to shield herself, but her arms could only cover so much. The thin leather continued to strike her repeatedly, and soon her body was covered in sweat and blood as she writhed on the glass shards. Her voice hoarse when he finally dropped the belt.
His hands encircled her wrists as he dragged her limp body across the room, with jagged glass scraping against her.
Lifting her easily, he positioned her doubled over her father’s desk.
His lips rubbing along her ear. “There is no one for you, Adria. Only me. You are mine.”
She shook her head. No one owned her.
“I do the owning,” she said.
She opened her eyes and turned her head, wanting to see his face when she said, “And a pathetic, insecure piece of shit like you isn’t capable of owning anything.”
He jammed his thumb into her asshole, and she gripped the edge of the desk.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we, princess ?” His voice floated around her as she fought to remain in the present, but the sexual contact from him was too much. Suddenly, she was a little girl again.