Chapter 1 #2
Pain explodes across my face, snapping my head to the side, and my body spins from the force, legs buckling, before I crash face-down onto the bed.
Pushing myself up, Law’s weight suddenly crashes down on me, his knee driving into my lower back, pinning me in place.
“Fucking cunt,” he snarls.
He grabs the edge of the towel and rips it off me with one violent yank, the fabric tearing as he flings it aside, leaving me completely naked and exposed beneath him.
Cold air hits my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the terror overflowing my veins.
Then, suddenly, his fist smashes into my ribs, twice on the left side, the blows merciless, like hammers cracking against bone.
Pain explodes through my side, and I gasp, trying to curl, but his second set of punches lands just as hard on the right side.
After two heartless, thudding impacts that drive deep into my ribcage, the air is completely knocked out of me, and I struggle to breathe. My mouth opens in a silent, wheezing cry as my lungs seize up, refusing to expand.
Law’s hand fists brutally into my hair, yanking my head back so hard I feel strands rip from my scalp. He slams my face down into the mattress, grinding it into the sheets.
My nose and mouth are smothered, and panic explodes through me as he holds me there, suffocating me, and I struggle to get free.
“Go on,” he growls with a hiss. “Fight me.”
I feel his other hand roughly shove my thighs apart, and his thick fingers, slick with spit, press against my asshole without warning. He doesn’t ease in, he forces two fingers inside me immediately, then three, scissoring them wide.
I buck and thrash beneath him, but he only pushes my face harder into the mattress, cutting off what little air I had left.
A fourth finger joins, then his thumb, and his hand twists, pushing and forcing. The pressure is unbearable—burning and tearing, driving his knuckles hard against the tight ring of muscle, fully determined.
“Open up,” he hisses as he forces more of his hand inside. “I’m going elbow-deep whether you like it or not, Blaire. I’m gonna destroy this filthy fucking tunnel until it’s shaped to only take anything but my arm.”
My vision is fading, chest contracting desperately for oxygen as I scream. He keeps pushing, stretching me wider and wider in his savage attempt to get his hand in my ass.
Then, suddenly the doorbell rings through the mansion—loud and completely jarring in the middle of this nightmare.
Law pauses, his hand still buried between my cheeks, and for one terrifying second, he doesn’t move.
I kick and twitch beneath him, legs flailing, trying urgently to throw him off so I can draw in air, but his fingers stay lodged deep inside me.
The doorbell rings again, and with a vicious snarl, he finally yanks his thick fingers out of my sore asshole in one heartless tug, and the sudden emptiness burns worse than when they were inside.
As soon as his hand unravels from my hair, and he climbs off me, I immediately tilt my face upward, gasping like a drowning woman.
I roll onto my back, sweat and tears clinging to my face. And Law stands at the foot of the bed, chest expanding, eyes crazed and pitch-black with unreleased rage and hunger.
His gaze sweeps over my naked, trembling body like he wants to eat me alive.
One of his hands is wrapped tightly around the massive bulge in his pants, squeezing and stroking his cock through the fabric as he licks his lips.
Then, doorbell rings a third time.
My heart slams violently against my battered ribs, and I can see the debate waring behind his eyes—to ignore whoever’s at the door and finish what he started.
And maybe even kill me in the process.
I hope, silently and desperately, that he doesn’t.
Seconds pass into what feel like an unbearable eternity. Until finally, he lets out a frustrated growl, and drags a hand down his face, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
“Get fucking ready.” He spits, tone filled with threat.
With that, he turns and stalks out of the bedroom, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
The moment he’s gone, I let out a long, shuddering breath, my body melting limply into the sheets, every muscle twitching uncontrollably.
I press a trembling hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that wants escape, fighting to calm my racing pulse.
I can’t let him fucking do that—not tonight—not ever.
After gathering myself as much as I can, I roll onto my side and push myself up.
◆◆◆
Sitting at my dressing table, I pin my hair into a messy updo, but fear begins to suffocate me, the realization hitting hard.
He’s not going to stop until I’m dead. And I won’t let him have that. He’s not taking that from me too.
I need to get out of here.
Tonight.
He’s drunk and more vicious than ever.
My thoughts start spiralling out of control, each one darker than the last, panic tightening its grip around my throat.
But I force myself to focus on something else—anything.
I reach for my foundation and carefully cover the bruise spreading across my cheek, blending until the purple stain is nothing more than a shadow beneath my skin.
Then, suddenly, the room seems to darken around me. Not with shadow, but with a strange, icy blue haze that creeps into every corner.
My hand stills, and a chill prickles across my skin. As my breathing quickens, cold air bursts from my mouth with each exhale. Within seconds, the temperature plummets, sending a violent shiver through me.
My eyes dart around the spinning room, searching for an explanation, for something that makes sense.
Then I see it—the mirror in front of me gradually fogs over, swallowing my reflection. A line appears in the condensation, then another, as though an invisible finger is dragging itself across the glass.
Through broad, disbelieving eyes, and my heart thundering in my ears, I read the message take shape. Letter by letter, carving themselves through the mist.
G
E
T
O
U
T
!
I read them once. Twice. Again and again.
Getting ready to bolt, I push off the stool—but then, just like that, the room snaps back into light, and warmth rushes over my skin. My reflection stares back at me, dishevelled but normal, foundation brush still clutched in my hand.
I blink rapidly and shake my head once, trying to get myself together.
What. The. Fuck?
Maybe it’s my rotting psyche... It has to be.
Knowing I don't have time to overthink it, I push it back to the darkest corners of my mind. In a rush, I swivel and get up, darting to the walk in wardrobe.