9. Chapter 4
Blackness tries to invade my mind, memories threatening to break loose. I know I’m not there, but that same fear tangles in my belly, making me want to claw free of this room.
I’m here, I tell myself. I’m not back there.
The problem is, I don’t know where here is.
I just know they took us.
Delly. God, where’s Delly?
The thought of them hurting her sends fiery rage through my bones. I’ve done so many fucked up things to protect her. All to make sure she never found out what Rune is really like, and now he’s pissed off the wrong person. I’ve done so many fucked up things just trying to survive him, and I’m so tired of surviving. Life has been cruel sometimes, and I’m sick of making the best of my situation.
My parents died, murdered when I was ten, and instead of giving me to a family who may have loved me, I was handed over to Rune, the man responsible for ending my parent’s life. Handed over like a doll to do with as he wished.
And did he ever.
He’s made me as much as he’s destroyed me. Treating me just like he did his own daughter until one day something snapped in his head, and things were different. He was different. I was different. I look just like my mother, and I think he hated that so much it twisted his affection for me into something cruel.
Fucking Papa. My gut twists. The sick bastard got what he’s wanted all along. To tear me up, and now I’m fucked. Because of him, I’m in a room, laying in my piss, bound and cold as hell. And angry.
God, I’m angry.
I have adapted to every single shitty thing thrown my way. Dead parents? Okay. I have a new father. New father wants to shove his dick into my barely eighteen-year-old mouth, then punch his cum from between my lips until I was sure my teeth may break? Not great, but I adjusted. I knew there was no escaping him after those first few times he forced me, so I made myself more appealing, hoping he would hurt me less. It worked. Papa now likes I willingly spread my legs and fall to my knees like the whore he says my mother was. Not fighting the orgasms my body wants, even if they unfold inside me creased with pain.
Not fighting him.
Now, his meanness only comes out in bursts instead of a torrential downpour. He never cared that I cried, or that he hurt me as he fucked me over his desk, but he cared I kept my mouth shut and I have. I was his good girl. His dirty little secret and I never breathed a word. Not even Clyde knows the depths of Rune’s sick love for me. And his love has already caused me so much harm, I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m here.
The four men I let pleasure me last night have taken us and it’s all Rune’s fault. How? I’m not sure yet, but things tend to reveal themselves when they’re ready. And people love to talk about why they do the things they do. I have a feeling if I wait it out and survive long enough, they’ll reveal why they took us.
I just have to do as they ask until then.
I’ve been lying awake in this cold room long enough to know I’m in a house that is somewhere near the ocean. The distant sound of waves crashing are too loud to be a lake and it’s cold as fuck in here, so that means we’re further north.
Delly.She must be so sacred and worried. She’s always been protective of me and not knowing if I’m okay is going to eat her alive. But she’s smart. She will remember what Rune said when they took us, and figure out this is some sort of revenge plot to get Rune to pay up. Which means they won’t hurt us.
Or at least we won’t be killed.
I think.
The creak of the door opening freezes my spiraling thoughts. Heat travels down from my cheeks to my chest. Even though I knew I’d have to face them, sitting in a puddle of my pee wasn’t what I had envisioned. Me screaming and fighting my way out of here, rescuing Delly and getting back home has played repeatedly in my mind, but not this.
God, I wish Clyde had trained me to be a badass like he always said he would when I was a little girl with dark nightmares.
“Little Red.” His voice makes my nipples tighten. Yet another thing to blame Rune for. My fucked up brain mixing terror with pleasure. Not like this situation is helping. Fucking me roughly last night, then killing Rune’s security detail before they kidnapped us is fucking with my mental stability.
Breaker steps closer, his boots scraping on the floor as he comes to a stop near my head. Last night, his boots never came off. Nor his pants or his shirt. An odd thought to have, but those should have been red flags. Then again, I sail toward reg flags like a lost ship, desperate for the safety of land, not caring about the color of danger flashing in my eyes as long as I may, just may, be safe. If even for a while.
But I should have known. Should have sensed something. Even if I ignore warning signs, I still feel them, see them. And men not disrobing to fuck us was a sign that something wasn’t right. Most men, at least all the men I’ve fucked over the years, are in such a hurry to ram their dick in you they fling off their clothes, discarding pants and shirts in rapid fire succession.
Not these guys. No. They kept everything on, exposing only the parts needed to perform. Every other inch was clothed. The bits of flesh I saw told me nothing. We, Delly and I, were spread open, vulnerable, naked for them, so they could use us in every way.
“Little Red?” This time my stomach clenches at the name he called me as he fucked me. “Please be okay,” he whispers, like he’s talking to himself more than me, and I clench my teeth to stop from snapping at him. If he wanted me to be okay, he shouldn’t have done this, but the ache in his voice is confusing, so I remain quiet. His tone says one thing, but I need to see his eyes to tell if this desperate, slightly scared sound catching in his throat is real or another game they’re playing.
Breaker’s hand slides under my head, so gently that I squeeze my eyes shut. The hood covering my head is removed, and I inhale a breath of cold air.
“Is she okay?” Viper’s voice comes from behind me.
My cheeks burn, making me wish I could sink into the cold floor. I’m dirty, stinking of fear, covered in pee, and bound like an animal in front of the men I fucked. I can’t help feeling mortified. They’re the ones who have done this to me, yet I hate they are seeing me like this. Weak.
Last night, I was treated like a slutty goddess. Right now, I’m a broken whore, lying in a pool of cold urine, so scared I’m having to clench my jaw to keep terrified whimpers from escaping my throat as dark memories try to take over my present nightmare.
The plastic digging into my bound wrists at my back suddenly snaps. My hands fall to the floor. My shoulders ache, and pain lances through my arms as I shift onto my back. I bring my hands up, wincing at the sharp pains shooting through my shoulders to rub my wrists.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” Viper says.
My eyes blink open, and the first thing I see are eyes the color of winter. Then I see the familiar skull mask covering his head. My gaze travels down to the same black shirt clinging to his muscled chest he wore last night. The same black fatigues. It’s a uniform.
They are soldiers and they don’t want to be identified.
My instincts scream to lash out, hit him, and flee, but logically, I know it’s pointless. I’m short and soft in all the wrong places. They are huge. Strong. Powerful.
Deciding that remaining still in my puddle is the best option for now, I let my eyes drift past Breaker to the room, taking in the dusty yellow light of a bedside lamp, the enormous bed and the worn…everything. Everything is in a state of decay that makes me think of a horror house. Plaster missing in places, wallpaper torn off in large sheets in some sections, but bubbling and clinging like damaged skin to a wound in others. Rusted posts on the metal bedframe and a worn chair by a vast fireplace, the dark mouth yawning open and cold.
My eyes bounce back to Breaker next to me. “Where’s Delilah?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Viper lowers himself to a crouch. I shrink back a little, not sure how to react to his proximity. He’s kidnapped me. Bound me. Yet I had him in my mouth last night.
My gaze moves to Breaker, crouched by my head. His hand is still cradling my head, his warm thumb caressing my cheek. He’s not wearing his gloves. A quick glance at Viper tells me he isn’t either. A strange satisfaction settles in my belly. There’s something more personal about having them touch me flesh to flesh instead of using gloved hands to force me. It makes me wonder if that concerned glint in their eyes is real. If maybe they feel bad for doing this.
But that’s a dangerous thought. I have to remember we’re playing a game. They told us last night, and we were too stupid to hear it.
They’re the hunters and we’re the prey.
And they’ve caught us, so I better be careful.
Saying nothing else, Breaker leans down further and scoops me up into his arms. My first thought is that my pee soaked skirt is going to dirty his clean smelling shirt, but I swallow the words, reminding myself it’s his fault I was drugged and couldn’t hold my bladder any longer.
Breaker’s long legs eat up the space as he carries me to an open door at the far end of the room. Viper reaches around and switches on a light. I blink at the brightness, taking in the sight of the bathroom and vintage fixtures and tub. Still not speaking, Breaker tugs at the buttons on my shirt. When it registers that he intends to get me naked, I slap his hand away.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap, forgetting to be scared.
“You’re covered in piss, pretty Vixen,” Viper says, crossing his arms and leaning against the vanity next to me. He’s still too close. “Would you rather we tied you back up and let you lie in your piss a little longer?”
My cheeks flame, my eyes narrowing on his skull mask, the fangs reminding me of the scrape of his teeth over my clit as he ate up my cum soaked pussy. My eyes fall, too many images flashing in my mind, mixing up toxically with shame, making too hard to look at him.
“I didn’t think so,” Viper says, stepping back so he’s next to Breaker. The two men together in the small space remind me I’m not in a position to argue. They could do whatever they wanted to me, and there’s no one here to stop them.
Bad things don’t happen to Rune’s daughter. They never have. Only me.
“What do you want?” I ask, sucking in a breath as I eye the two men blocking the door. My escape. My freedom.
But was I really free to begin with?
Rune kept me in a pretty cage, fed luxuries, but bound and gagged by his disgusting hatred for the people who killed his wife.
“Nothing you alone can give us,” Breaker says, but the way his eyes travel down my body tells me that’s not entirely true. He remembers the shape of my hips, the heat between my thighs. Just as I remember the way he feels moving inside me. He breaks eye contact and glances at Viper, then back at me, and tugs at the buttons on my blouse. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I bite my lip and let him unbutton the shirt, resisting shooing his hands away to do it myself. Over the years, I’ve learned that being sweet means men tend to be nicer. Most of the time. So I let him drag my shirt over my shoulders, let his thumbs skim down my arms as he slides the fabric down. It falls to the floor with a whisper. My skirt is next. It sticks to my hips and I clench my jaw, keeping my humiliated tears behind the lids, but one slips out and I wipe it away, furious with myself for this stupid weakness. That I care I’m in this state in front of the men who made me this way. The pitiful state they put me in.
When I’m left in just my black underwear, white bra, and torn nylons, they both step back. It’s cold as fuck, and my nipples tighten, my wet underwear like a sheet of ice against my skin, making goose bumps prick all over my body. My arms wrap around my waist as a shiver wracks my shoulders, eyes falling to my feet on the black and white chipped tile floor.
My big toe sticks through the nylon. Dark, rusty brown stains smear the rips around my knees. Bile hits my throat like acid and I suck in a breath.
I’m covered in Manuel’s blood.
The room tilts.
“Fuck, she’s about to pass out.”
My hand grips the vanity.
“Deep breaths, Little Red.”
My eyes shoot up to Breaker. “You really think a little bloods going to make me pass out?” I snarl. “I’m a fucking woman. We’re born in it, bathe in it, and fucking live in it.”
Viper let’s out a low whistle. “Damn she’s spicy.” He uncrosses his arms making me look his way. “Might want to turn it down a few notches, Vixen. I’d love a reason to take a belt to that plump ass.”
I feel the color drain from my face.
Breaker steps closer, like he’s going to touch me, but stops, letting his hands remain at his sides. Viper walks past me to the porcelain tub and turns the knob. Pipes groan and water sputters out, dark and dirty at first, then runs clear. He plugs the drain with an old rubber stopper and that’s when I see the shampoo and body wash bottles.
The same ones I use at home.
Another tremor starts in my shoulders, but this one isn’t from the cold.
Viper’s hand lands on my hip, and his thumb hooks the waistband of my nylons. My hand flies out, and I slap him away. His dark chuckle sends heat to my core, making it feel slick as I step back, not liking that my body remembers the way they touched me.
“Fucking creep,” I snarl, my back hitting the icy wall and I press myself to it, hating how scared I am, but for all the wrong reasons. Some primal part of my brain knows they won’t hurt me, but I’ve never been one to take the chance that a man will keep to his usual behavior. They’re animals, after all. Some are more wild than others. “You have a piss fetish?”
Breaker’s loud crack of laughter makes my shoulders jolt. The two men exchange a look, and Viper shoots forward, moving so fast that I’m suddenly trapped between his massive body and the cracked plaster at my back. My heart thunders in my chest. He’s so close I know he can feel it beating against him. His hand wraps around my neck and I gasp, my fingers gripping his, trying to pry them off, but he squeezes slightly harder.
“You going to force yourself on me now?” Hatred leaks out with my words.
“Force?” Viper lowers his masked face close to mine. “Did we force you to spread your legs for us the other night?”
Another tremor moves down my spine at the memory, and it’s not entirely unpleasant. I bite my lip to keep from saying anything else that might provoke him considering he just threatened me with a belt.
“No, little Vixen, we didn’t.” His grip tightens. “You gave us permission to fuck you.”
“Past tense,” I snarl. Me and my stupid mouth can’t seem to stop talking. “I wouldn’t spread open for you even if you begged to lap up this piss between my legs.”
I swear he smiles under his mask. “That’s not how it works. You’re ours now. You belong to all of us. And I’ll fuck you with dried piss on your legs, my brother’s cum sliding down your thighs, and my hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as I lick your sweet tears from those pretty cheeks.”
My breath rushes from my lungs.
“And you’ll love every minute because your hot little cunt knows you belong to us. You have been ours longer than you realize.” He steps back and I suck in air, my hand replacing where his had just been.
Viper backs away to the door, his eyes never leaving mine, then turns and stalks out, leaving me alone with Breaker.
My fingers rub the heated skin on my neck, my mind rushing with the lurid images he just planted.
“You have clean clothes in the armoire,” Breaker says. He gestures to the bath filling behind me. “Get cleaned up and change. We’ll bring you something to eat soon.”
As he turns to leave, Breaker pauses, placing his hand on the frame, looking at me over his shoulder. In the bright light, I can see him clearly. His eyes are a pale blue, a stark contrast to the deep warm shade of skin peeking out around his mask. His broad shoulders and chest take up the entire doorway and his head almost reaches the top of the door frame.
He’s fucking huge.
A reminder of his strength and the danger he carries under his skin.
“I’m sorry, Little Red,” he whispers, and my skin flushes with a familiar heat. I wish he’d not call me that. My body likes it too much.
“Sorry?” I ask, biting the word out. “For what part? Lying as you fucked me? Killing men I’ve known for years because they were protecting me, scaring the daylights out of me and my family, or kidnapping me?”
His eyes scan me from head to toe, softening as they travel down my legs, then back up my torso and stopping at my face. “I’m not sorry for taking you, but I am sorry you’re caught in the middle.”
He turns to leave and I’m left standing in a cold bathroom in wet underwear, my heart pounding erratically, like a bird trapped in a metal cage. Trapped, and scared because this fluttering in my chest isn’t exactly fear anymore.
No man has ever looked at me the way he does. The way they do. No man has ever been sorry for hurting me, no matter how much they’ve insisted. Not for raising his voice or scaring me. For being mean.
For being a man.
I’m going to have to be careful. Because this is worse than Rune. Worse because the look in Breaker’s eyes tells me he means it. But like he said, I’m trapped in the middle of what appears to be yet another war, but this time? I refuse to be another causality.