Chapter 6
six
Eduardo drags me along the empty corridor of the stables toward my cell.
It’s quiet. Almost too quiet.
There’s usually some kind of noise here, whether it’s the other women sobbing or Christian’s men walking the halls or whispered conversations.
Now, there’s nothing but the portly man’s stomping footsteps, heavy breathing, and the click of my pesky heels against the concrete floor.
I stumble into my cell, caught off guard by Eduardo’s rough shove, mumbling under my breath.
“What was that, girlie?” he asks, his head shifting a bit to hear me better, mocking me. Dick. “I’d be careful what you say.” His eyes roam the length of my body. The immediate outward repulsion that radiates from me at the gesture causes him to sneer.
“Think you’re too good for me, little lamb?” he mocks. “Women like you were born to be whores. Just like that little friend of yours. I got a real good taste of her before they sent her off.”
Well, he has this slap coming.
A bubble of gleeful smugness comes over me at the sight of my handprint slapped across his shocked face. Then it pops, cold fear washing over me at Eduardo’s narrowed eyes. His hand comes up to touch my cheek, the gentleness belied by the rage streaked across his face.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he snarls as he turns and makes his way toward the cell door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Maybe he’s leaving? Fat chance of that moron.
“Do you know the instructions my boss gave me to punish you?”
I don’t have to see his face to know the fucker is feeling rather jovial about the turn of events.
He’s been looking for a reason to use Christian’s threat of punishment, and I’ve given him the perfect opening.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to read between the lines and know exactly what the pig has in mind.
“Said I couldn’t touch that sweet pussy of yours, but everything else was fair game.”
My eyes widen at his threat, throat constricting in fear as my hands grow clammy and my breath becomes short.
“Don’t.” I internally wince at the tremors that rack my voice as Eduardo slams the cell door shut. He turns to face me, a sick, twisted grin on his dry lips. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Please.”
“I love it when they beg.” He stalks toward me, licking his lips in what I’m sure he considers a seductive manner. His heavy footsteps fill the room. All I can do is shake my head and back away from his advance as far as I can manage.
Which isn’t far at all.
A small gasp leaves my lips when my back collides with the cold stone wall of my cell.
Fuck.
He stops right in front of me, his hand coming up to caress my cheek. I flinch as his offensive odor spills over me. Choking me. Eduardo smirks as he grabs my arms, pulling me flush against his body as he buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.
Futilely, I push against his large chest, turning my head away from him in an attempt to create distance where there is none. One hand travels to the tie that holds my bun in place, roughly pulling it out, causing my hair to spill down my back and over my shoulders.
Then both his hands begin to roam my body, tugging and pinching to the point of pain.
He smells like alcohol, sweat, and sewer waste. I hold my breath as I fight against him, trying my best to ignore the putrid stench wafting off him.
I squeal in pain when Eduardo’s hands grab at my breasts roughly, squeezing hard enough to no doubt leave significant bruising. Where are the other guards? Has Christian authorized this stank of a man to violate me? He’s always been so possessive. It doesn’t make any sense.
Unless—I think back to the cruel smirk he gave me as Eduardo led me away.
Has he planned this as a way to break me?
Taking a deep breath, I suck as much air into my lungs as I can.
My intent is to let out an ear-piercing scream to alert someone.
Anyone. Eduardo must sense my plan because my sudden scream is cut short, muffled by his meaty hand pressing tightly against my mouth while his free hand hitches up the short skirt of my dress.
His stubby fingers pry at the folds of my opening, forcefully finding my entrance.
Christian, that rat bastard, hadn’t given me any panties to wear.
Panicked, I wiggle and kick against him, twisting and turning my body against the wall, trying to dislodge his hold. It’s not enough. The gluttonous pig outweighs me by a hundred pounds at least. The only thing I manage to do is lose my heels.
“Just give it up, whore,” he spits at me, spittle landing in my eyes. Nasty. Who knows what fucking diseases he has. “We all know you gave it up to that Russian cur, so don’t be such a fucking prude.”
My blood simmers beneath my skin at his insults. With all the strength I can muster, I rip my mouth from under his hand and chomp down on the tender skin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Puttana,” he swears at me in Italian, calling me a bitch. His face darkens as he pulls his body slightly away from mine. Sure, I’m the bitch for biting him when he’s trying to rape me. Makes sense. It’s hard to believe I’m the first female to snub his unwanted advances.
Although, I might be the first one to bite him.
With the practiced precision born of a man who’s well acquainted with beating women, he backhands me across the face hard enough my teeth rattle. I pitch to the side, a small whimper escaping me as my body hits the hard, unforgiving ground.
Eduardo wastes no time climbing on top of me, a psychotic grin slapped across his hideous face.
“Fuck what Christian ordered. You want rough? I’ll fuck every hole until you’re fucking bleeding, and I still won’t stop,” he mocks, slamming his lips against mine as I struggle underneath him.
I taste blood as his thick, slimy fish of a tongue pushes past my mouth roughly.
He pulls back, a hazy lust clouding his eyes that stirs the panic inside me.
“What do you know about rough, shrimp dick?” I mock him back. “Fucking a woman isn’t the same as fucking one of those sheep you’ve been practicing on.”
One day I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut, is the thought that goes through my mind as the pot-bellied man lands a punishing right hook across my cheek that has my vision exploding into nothing but blackness for a short moment.
Vomit rolls in my stomach at the sudden disorientation, and I will my body not to black out.
Unconsciousness will not be good.
Momentarily stunned, all I can do is lie there trying to right my vision and regain use of my limbs while the man pulls at my top, rolling it up toward my chin to expose my naked body to his lustful gaze.
When I look down at him, he just grins proudly as he runs his filthy hand over the bare skin of my waist. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that’s descended over my mind. I won’t be a victim. I won’t be a victim.
Eduardo must not consider me much of a threat since he doesn’t bother to restrain my hands as he hastily works to undo his belt.
I will not be a victim.
The sound of his zipper opening is all it takes to shake me from my stupor.
Without giving it much though, my left hand shoots up into his face, palm striking a direct hit underneath his nose.
The sound of snapping bone is followed by a strangled “oomph” that puffs out of his mouth as he jolts backward.
He sits up slightly, his hands covering his bleeding nose, a slew of colorful curses filling the space between us.
His face turns thunderous, eyes shifting almost midnight as he snarls down at me. A bloodied hand leaves his nose, poised to strike.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Threads of gunfire erupt from outside the cell window, followed by a deafening explosion that shakes the building. My arms shoot up to protect my face as dust and debris rain down around me. I look around, spying my opportunity for escape.
My freedom.
I will not be a victim.
Seizing the opportunity, I strike.
One moment he has me pinned beneath his hips, and the next he’s lying flat on his back next to me, a large gaping wound on his head.
The stone is heavy in my hand, covered in his blood, but I ignore it.
I am not a victim.
I can feel my chest tightening, my breathing shallow and labored as I shift to my knees. Eduardo groans, his body slowly shifting. That’s when something loosens inside me.
Rage surges through my veins like boiling lava as I strike at him repeatedly until I’m panting and out of breath, my body covered in a light sheen of sweat, his face nearly unrecognizable.
The hollow thump of the stone hitting the ground echoes through the cell as I struggle to keep from panicking. My hands shake as I hold them out before me, the panic coursing through me rapidly increasing as I take in the sight of his blood splashed across them.
My eyes widen in horror as my mind begins to process the carnage I’ve created.
Leaning to one side, I vomit up what little is in my stomach, dry heaving for several moments when there’s nothing left. What have I done? What have I done?
My vision darkens around the edges, my chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.
I’ve killed him.
Murdered him.
I sit back on my heels as horror and revulsion wash over me, waves of despair threatening to suck me under.
Faintly, in the dark recess of my mind, I hear the door swing open, the heavy metal hinges groaning against the weight. It’s probably Christian. He’ll kill me for this. Of that I have no doubt, but still, I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, my eyes glued to the corpse of the man I’ve murdered.
“See? Told you she’d be fine, Seamus.”
A deep, thick Irish brogue shifts through the space around me, filling the silence.
“That doesn’t look fine to me.” Another voice, almost indistinguishable from the first, joins in. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”