Chapter 45
SKYLAR
If one could survive going through a wood chipper, that’s how much pain I feel right now.
The sad part is, I don’t even care. I was hoping I was dead already, but the sound of a distant voice is drawing me back down to earth, and I’m pissed.
I don’t want this body. I don’t want this soul or anything this life has left for me.
I wanted death. I wished it would come sooner, but sometimes bad people have to endure the worst before they’re blessed with death.
And I know I’m a bad person. I guess anyone who kills is a bad person. This is my punishment.
So many of my father’s men lined up to give me the beating of my life.
Many who were friends of my victims, taking their anger out on me.
The others were just ordered to participate—stand in line, beat the traitorous daughter, and hold nothing back.
I could handle the beatings. Punch after punch, even the skinning of my brand.
While that hurt—it was fucking excruciating—nothing is worse than being taken against your will. Used for someone else’s pleasure.
If I wasn’t broken before, this night ripped me apart in so many ways and left me praying for mercy.
Praying an angel would swoop down and take me away from this torment, but she never came.
I’ve never cried in front of my father’s men before, but when the devil stands beside you to hold your hand through the most vicious attack I’ve ever survived, nothing could stop my screams of pain.
I begged and pleaded for them to kill me and get it over with.
Do whatever you want with my body when I’m dead, just spare me the humiliation, the degradation, the agony of being violated.
They laughed at me, all eight of them, as they abused me in the most horrifying way they could have.
Once the blackness swallowed me whole, I was able to breathe again. The darkness of death is inky black, and I welcomed the blanket that covered me and dragged me away from that hell. At least, I thought it did.
Why can I hear someone talking again? I couldn’t have survived that, right?
In a panic, I feel my arms are free from their restraints, and I waste no time.
Even with the pain of a thousand knives stabbing against my chest, I swing my arms at whoever is talking beside me.
I fight as hard as I can. I fight for me.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. I’m Saxon’s friend. We’re here to help you.” The screaming pain in my shoulder causes me to stop almost immediately. I groan as I go to clench the joint where the pain is radiating from.
“It’s dislocated. You need to stay still.” Who is this guy? My throat feels as though I swallowed razor blades, probably from the screaming. But I need to ask.
“W-who are you?” My voice is small and hoarse, but I know he understands.
“We’re members of the Kings. We’re here to help you.
Saxon is here.” The overwhelming sensation that he came for me, even when I told him not to, hits me straight in my chest. He came for me.
I can’t hold it in. I burst into sobs as I cover my mouth with my hand.
He really came for me. He risked his safety and the safety of those he loves to come and save me.
I need to see him. Right now. I try to sit up, but it’s useless.
I have no energy; the pain is suffocating me like a straitjacket that’s holding me down.
“Don’t get up. I need to fix you up some more.
” I blink my eyes for what feels like a million times, trying to regain my focus and wipe away the haze obscuring my vision.
When I’m finally able to see, I freeze when I catch a glimpse of my body.
I’m stripped of my clothes. Only a small towel covers my breasts while a towel is draped over my pelvis.
I panic. What is he doing? Why am I naked?
He must see I’m about to shatter because he places his hand on mine before talking.
“Listen, darling. You’re beat up pretty bad. I’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but we need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His voice is soothing. He sounds like Mack, reassuring me with his deep voice.
“Why am I—”
He cuts me off. “You’ve been through a lot tonight, Sky.
They’ve done some terrible things to you, and I can’t imagine apologizing for what they did will make it all go away.
I will patch you up the best I can, but we’re taking you to the hospital the moment we can.
” I know what he’s talking about. I remember.
I can’t say anything else. The awareness of the state I’m currently in holds me hostage.
Have you ever cried so hard, but it was silent, and the only indicator you were even crying was the tears running down your face?
This is me. Tear after tear slides down the side of my temples, collecting in my ears as this man continues to clean my wounds.
I’m not shaking or trembling. No noise is coming from my mouth, only the many tears falling from the corners of my eyes as I lie motionless.
“You’ll never have to face this world alone again, sweetheart.
Do you hear me? You’re one of us now, and we take care of our Queens.
Your pain is our pain, and you won’t ever have to heal on our own.
Tell me you understand.” My eyes drift from the ceiling to the man beside me.
This huge, gruff, and uniquely beautiful man beside me.
His beard is so long it hangs past his neck, but he’s bald.
Tattoos cover his entire scalp. An angry scar pulls his lip into a permanent grin from the corner, and one of his eyes is cloudy white.
Looking at him, you might not see his beauty, but the way he just spoke makes me feel safe in his presence.
It makes me feel worthy of living for maybe one more day.
“What’s your name?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“Heath.” I pause a moment, saying his name in my head a couple times. It doesn’t suit him. A big burly man who looks like he should be named Digger or Axe—something strong. Instead, he’s named after chocolate. Sweet chocolate.
“Heath bars are my favorite candy bars.” I chuckle to myself. The other corner of his mouth pulls into a smile as he tapes another bandage on my neck.
“We’ve got the parents. Heath? Trip? What room are you in?
” I can’t tell whose voice is speaking through the communication device that’s strapped around Heath’s neck, but the word parents has me tensing my muscles.
My ribs scream at me for the strain, and I slam my eyes shut until the pain begins to subside.
I’m focusing so hard on the pain, I don’t hear the reply from Heath, or that there was another man in the room all this time.
The pounding of boots against the floor has me opening my eyes and turning my head to the door.
The moment he comes into view, my whole body relaxes.
As if my adrenaline was completely sucked from my body all at once. He’s here. He came for me. He saved me.
“Tesoro.” One word and I’m crying once again. Or maybe I never stopped.