Chapter 28
Juliet
Ihad been here several days, and I was no closer to finding my wolf.
The shower had become a sanctuary and a torment, droplets striking like hot needles over the angry red marks left by Harrison’s torture.
I winced, each stinging touch blurring the lines between pain and a confusing, shameful arousal.
My hands had trembled as I traced the welts, caught in a whirlwind of hatred for him and desperate longing for Bronc.
Pressing my forehead to the cool, unforgiving tiles, I had let my tears merge with the water, a silent acknowledgment of how utterly overwhelmed and trapped I felt.
The mate bite on my neck had throbbed with a dull ache, echoing the inner turmoil that left me shaking on the floor, sobbing and clutching my knees in a storm of emotions I couldn’t escape.
The initial sting of leather on flesh, Harrison’s face hovering above mine with a sick pleasure, had ignited an immediate outrage—a defiant heat that pulsed within me as I’d reeled from the shock of his attack.
I’d fought him, not only with the flailing of my body, but with the burning anger in my eyes.
And then, damn him, he had me right where he wanted—bound to him, in more ways than one, the throb of his claim binding me tighter than any rope.
The physical pain lingered, refusing to fade, and worse than that, the maddening thrill that simmered beneath my anger had left me feeling guilty and torn apart.
My mind swung wildly between the violation and the twisted desire he forced upon me, his power infuriating yet confoundingly, revoltingly compelling.
I’d touched each welt as if the motion could absolve me, my fingers trembling over the skin where the bruises met and overlapped, a vivid map of my confusion and shame.
How much longer could I take it? His cruelty had burrowed under my skin, into my soul.
And still, against my will, some awful piece of me longed for the danger he embodied.
Was it the mark he left on my neck that kept me shackled to this impossible need?
The bond? Or something more damaged and desperate within me?
Something that reached out for connection no matter how it was given?
I longed for release from the suffocating web that he spun, one that left me breathless and sobbing, yet craving and clinging.
What made it worse was how fiercely I had loved Bronc before any of this happened.
I’d shown up in Dairyville, looking for nothing but space, and found so much more.
He’d been like the clearest Texas sky, wide and limitless and full of possibilities I’d never imagined.
The heat of our connection, wild and raw and right, had flared the moment we touched, a wildfire of mutual want that blazed hotter than anything I’d known.
It was more than attraction. More than lust. It had been an anchor for a heart like mine, one that never knew where it belonged.
When he offered his home, his pack, his bed, I thought the struggle was over.
But here I was. On a shower floor that wasn’t mine, in a life that I didn’t want.
The walls of my cell closed in around me, each passing day growing tighter and more inescapable.
When I left the compound, I truly thought I was doing the right thing.
I’d free my mother and lead Bronc to Harrison.
It seemed so easy. But I should have trusted him and his team to do the job.
Why did I think I could do what they couldn’t?
I always had only myself. But I knew better this time. I’m sorry, Bronc. So fucking sorry.
The reminder of my new mate bite pulsed relentlessly, a maddening echo that tied me to Harrison, even now.
It forced my desire, like chains on my spirit.
Was it the bond drawing out some darker part of me that I never knew was there?
Would my relationship with Bronc ever have awakened that part of me too, or would he always have seen me as too young or too fragile?
I sure hoped we'd get the chance to find out.
His arms were the ones I longed for. His eyes were the ones I wanted to look into.
In the searing hot water and steam, Bronc’s words echoed back from before I left.
“Little Wolf, we’ll find your mom. Please give us more time.
Get some sleep my love. Be sure and eat enough.
” He loved me. Maybe this was what I deserved.
I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror to see the mess that I’d become, to acknowledge the turmoil written across my features.
The chaos that was Juliet, broken and desperate. Bound and brutalized. Falling apart.
In spite of it all, I clung to the hope of release, the hope of rescue, the hope of Bronc. I rocked and cried and hated myself. But at that moment, on the shower floor with water washing me away, it was the only thing I could do.
I stayed there on the shower floor, hugging my knees, my body racked with sobs that I could no longer hold back.
Bronc’s face wavered in my memory, a cruel reminder of everything I’d lost, and of the strong arms I ached for as the hot water mingled with my tears.
The memory had brought a bitter smile to my lips, and I let out a shuddering breath as a fresh wave of grief crashed over me.
The mate bite tied me to Harrison. It ensured my compliance.
It left me helpless, filled with a maddening guilt for the desire that kept my spirit in chains.
I looked up at the ceiling, whispering a desperate prayer for a way out.
How was I ever going to escape him? The shame of wanting someone who hurt me, even when my body and mind screamed to run, knotted like a heavy chain around my neck.
I couldn’t fight this. Couldn’t fight him.
Even if Bronc tried to save me, would it matter?
Was the bond Harrison forced upon me unbreakable?
The questions ripped through me, tearing my soul into shreds as I sat there, the steam curling around like a thick fog, and the spray now turning lukewarm.
There was no easy way out, no simple solution to this mess.
It wasn’t only a physical prison, but an emotional one that held me tighter than any bindings ever could.
I wanted to believe in rescue, to believe that Bronc wouldn’t let this stand, but how much longer could I endure?
My own thoughts circled like vultures, consuming what little hope remained.
Even if I wanted Bronc more than my next breath, did he still want me after I messed things up by trying to rescue my mom on my own? Would he understand why I had to go?
“Please,” I whispered to the water, to the walls, to whatever higher power might listen.
“Please get me out of this.” My words were lost in the steam, a final plea from a spirit stretched so thin it felt like it would snap.
A silent cry as I looked up to the ceiling, the spray hitting me in uneven bursts, cooling along with my hope.
That’s when the bathroom door crashed open, and the specter of my tormentor filled the space. Harrison, unyielding as the bond itself, stared at me with eyes that reflected nothing but a cruel satisfaction. The moment stretched, filled with a tension so thick I thought it might strangle me.
“Get up,” he said, a command wrapped in velvet and steel. The harshest whisper.
The sound of his voice sliced through me, cutting deeper than any lash, any blow.
I scrambled to my feet, unsteady, trembling, wrapping a towel around myself as the final shreds of warmth slipped away.
His eyes never left mine, pinning me in place, making it clear that escape was futile.
That I was bound to him in every sense, and that resistance was nothing but a fantasy.
“Follow me,” he ordered, turning with the confidence of someone who knew they wouldn’t be refused.
I went. Dragged one foot in front of the other, my soul screaming against it, my body obeying the cruel reality that Harrison had locked me into.
The walls closed in around us as I followed him, as the fear wrapped tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.
What did he have planned this time? How far would he go to break me?
Did he even know, did he even care, that the further he pushed, the more desperately I longed for release from him?
For release from everything? That this was as much torture as anything he could inflict?
Even as terror settled like lead in my stomach, I realized with growing dread where he was taking me.
To the wall. The wall in my cell that held every implement of torment imaginable.
Items rolled out on hydraulic arms, benches folded out of nowhere that held me down as he administered his brand of punishment and humiliation.
It happened sometimes once a day, sometimes more often.
The most frightening part? I found myself giving in to all of them.
Hating and loving them in equal measure.
If Bronc ever found me, he would surely cast me aside.
I was broken. Unloveable. Could I survive it?
Would I be Juliet at the end of this nightmare, or just another possession of Harrison Hastings?
The answer, the only answer, was to endure.
To last. To hold on to the slimmest hope that Bronc was coming, even if it was foolish.
Even if it was a lie, I told myself to stay sane.
To stay alive. I clung to that lie with all I had, my knuckles white around the edges of the towel.
No matter what, I wouldn’t let this break me.
Not yet. Not ever.