Chapter Thirteen
Decimation
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C ROUCHED ON THE DIRTY floor, Hannah’s head spun.
It was bad enough that she still couldn’t fathom how any of it had happened to her—sure, she could intellectualize that Lawes had been Saul all along, but her feelings hadn’t caught up with what that meant—but dealing with the hard slap in the face that was her new reality was something else.
Closing her eyes, she recalled her most recent excruciating ordeal, though the taste of mud from his shoes meant she really didn’t have to try too hard to remember it.
He’d made her lick that disgusting old footwear until he was satisfied they were cleaned , a concept she wasn’t even sure the best shoe polish could have achieved.
Swallowing down the grim flavor, she tried not to heave.
She knew Lawes of old, and suspected there would be much worse in store for her, yet kneeling there, naked, it was difficult to see how she was going to get through it.
No choice. Her gaze flickered open to witness the same worn lino. I’ve no choice but to survive.
Hannah had achieved the feat before, thanks in no small part to the emergency services who’d eventually come to liberate her and the other survivors, but somehow, she was going to have to dig deep and perform another miracle.
If only I’d listened to my friends.
Grimacing at the foul taste in her mouth, she sniffed back the latest wave of regret. Shannon had been prepared to come and collect her from the restaurant after Saul hadn’t shown, yet Hannah had refused her. She’d thought she knew better.
On all fours in the crappy kitchen, the admission was difficult to stomach. Hannah had thought she’d been making progress, and part of that development had been her ability to make decisions for herself.
She thought she was safe.
She never noticed the predator lurking in the corner.
“The food is nearly ready.” Her captor glanced over his shoulder at her from the stove, throwing her a grin as though she was a new date he was trying to impress.
The smell of frying bacon, once a familiar friend, only tightened the tension in her tummy as she met his eyes.
“Stay where you are, little girl.”
Waiting until he turned back to the pan, she glared at the back of the bastard’s head.
Stay where she was ... was he trying to be fucking funny?
He had her collared and leashed, the latter of which was stretched high above her head, securing her to the bloody wall.
As if being forced to the floor wasn’t indignity enough, he’d had the nerve to leave her tethered as well.
Gaze narrowing, her attention flitted to the handle of the leash holding her in place. He was keeping her tied to the hook like she was a dog, the purpose no doubt designed not only to hold her but also to reinforce the lesson he’d always loved to teach—that she belonged to him.
Mulling over the humiliation, her focus drilled into the leather handle, and for the first time since he’d permitted her to come up for air, she truly looked.
He’d wrapped the handle around the hook, but as far as she could see, there were no locks or additional binds securing it there.
Her pulse picked up at what that meant. All she had to do was get to her feet, and she might be able to unhook the thing. ..
“Not thinking of doing anything stupid, are we?”
Her heart skipped a beat at Lawes’ voice, and turning, she realized he was staring at her.
“No, Mr. Lawes, sir.” Her reply was immediate, but they both knew she was lying. She had been considering acting, and to do so while he was in such close proximity was rash.
“Don’t make me regret not binding you, Hannah.” His voice had dropped to that deeper, more foreboding octave, its timbre drying her already parched throat.
“I’m not, Mr. Lawes, sir.”
She hated how pitiful she sounded, how utterly vulnerable she was as he approached with another bowl in his hand, but experience had taught her to accept the emotions.
However it had happened—whether she’d played into his hands or not—she was naked in his kitchen.
However disturbing his requests, for the time being, she needed to acquiesce.
He shook his head. “Why don’t I believe you, little girl?”
She was pleased to hear his tone had shifted from that undeniably dangerous one she’d been taught to fear to something lighter and wryer.
“I didn’t move, Mr. Lawes, sir.” It was the only defense she could muster as he lowered the bowl beside her.
“Hmmm.” He sounded unconvinced.
She hung her head, unsure how to respond without landing herself in even hotter water.
“Here.” He thrust the bowl under her nose, dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. “What do you say?”
Her focus flitted to the contents of the metal, her stomach still in knots about the prospect of having to eat from one. She’d recognized the smell of the bacon cooking, but it looked as though he’d cut up a boiled egg for her as well.
“Thank you, Mr. Lawes, sir.”
She glanced at him nervously, undecided how she felt about the food. She supposed she was hungry, but it was hard to feel positive about anything her captor provided her with, especially when it was delivered in a fucking animal bowl.
“Don’t look so skeptical.”
He blew out a breath as he rose, as though she’d offended him somehow. She —the woman with no clothes, leashed to his fucking kitchen. She might have laughed had her heart not been galloping so fast.
“I have the same as you.” He gestured to the plate on the counter behind him. “It’s just that you have the privilege of eating from the bowl.”
His voice was definitely droll as he turned back for his food, and collecting it from the side, she watched him pick up cutlery and wander to the small table between them.
“I want every piece of the egg and bacon eaten, Hannah.” Sinking into his seat, he didn’t peer her way. “You don’t want to piss me off, little girl.”
Her brows knitted as she glanced down at the bowl. Piss him off? What the fuck was he talking about?
“Oh, you’ve forgotten your performance next door, have you?” Picking up his knife and fork, he chuckled. “Forgotten the way you spoke to me?” He threw her a pointed look. “Because I haven’t.”
Shit.
Fresh trepidation seeped into her system. After her recent horrors, she’d overlooked the way she’d behaved when he’d compelled the gag into her mouth, but what did he expect?
Hannah had been free for years, and in that time, she’d rebuilt her self-worth. She knew she deserved better than the shitty way he was treating her. In that fractious moment of heightened tension, there’d been no choice but to fight.
“No, Mr. Lawes, sir.” She stared at the cooling food in the bowl.
“I just...” Her voice trailed away. There was no way she could tell him how she really felt about the event.
All she would do was offer him fresh impetus to exact his revenge in some bloody, dreadful way, and it appeared he had plenty of motivation of his own.
“You just?”
His cutlery paused, and she didn’t need to look up to know he was staring her way. She sensed the weight of his gaze from her place on the floor.
“I’m just sorry,” she concluded, unwilling to exacerbate whatever new hole she’d managed to land herself in.
“Right.” His knife began to move again, his unconvinced tone echoing around her. “Eat before it gets cold. We’ll talk about it later.”
Great. Edging closer to the metal, the word rebounded in her head . I can’t fucking wait.
A jittery hush fell over the room, his attention returning to his plate, while she was left to contend with the bowl. Relieved that for once his focus was elsewhere, she contemplated what he expected.
He wants me to eat from the bowl.
Staring at the pieces of sliced bacon and egg, though, she couldn’t quite fathom the deed.
It wasn’t so long ago that he’d had her over another bowl, lapping at the cold water he’d provided.
Her gaze flitted to that vessel, currently sitting on the other side of the table.
She’d achieved that feat somehow, so why was she hesitating over the new challenge?
“Hannah.” Her name was like a sigh on his lips, and she froze at the resonance. “Are you going to make me get down there and help you?”
“No, Mr. Lawes, sir.”
Just like that, she was back on the brink of tears again, something about his scrutiny and the promise of worse repercussions to come amplifying her overwrought emotions.
“Really?” Cynicism reverberated in his voice as, dropping the end of her leash, he slid from his seat. “Because you haven’t touched your food.”
“I...” Her head fell as he advanced, panic flaring at what he might do next. Surely, he was going to punish her for the delay? He’d find some twisted way to exact a penance while he made her eat, and there’d be nothing she could do to stop him.
That was how it went with Lawes.
That was always how it went.
“Little girl.” He was right there with her again, one hand grazing her breast as he crouched by her side. “Why do you always have to make everything so complicated?”
She shot him an accusing look, meeting his knowing expression only inches from where she knelt.
How dare he call her complicated? She wasn’t the one who’d arranged the shitshow that saw her there on his floor.
All she’d ever done was reply to one lying advert about her dental phobia and shown an interest in dating again.
“ Do not look at me that way.”
His lips curled at the warning, but her face lowered regardless, understanding the complexity of her captor. One moment, he could seem calm and almost tender, while the next, he’d morph back into the mean monster who delighted in her misery.
There was never any way of knowing which version of him she was getting.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lawes, sir.” She made the apology out of instinct, all the years of therapy apparently undone in a few sordid hours back in his company.
“Head down.” He motioned to where the bowl was waiting. “If you make me wait, I’ll make sure you’re damn sorry.”