Chapter 27
Sierra
Pain spreads across my chest in brutal waves, hot and sharp enough to make my stomach turn every time I breathe.
My skin feels tight where the water hit me, angry red already starting to rise across my breasts, ribs, and stomach, and I can still feel droplets sliding down my body like they’re burning me all over again on the way down.
The cold air in the room only makes it worse, every movement pulling at skin that already feels ruined.
My arms ache so badly from hanging like this for hours that I can barely feel my hands anymore, my wrists throbbing above my head where the restraints bite into them, while pain keeps shooting through my shoulders every time my body jerks.
I’m shaking hard now, not even from the cold anymore, just shock and exhaustion and whatever the hell is happening to my body after everything they’ve done to me.
Dom finally steps back, dragging a hand across his mouth while he watches me breathe like he’s trying to calm himself down instead of me, and somehow that terrifies me more than the boiling water did.
I wish this felt like a nightmare, something my brain made up that I could eventually wake up from, but the greasy, sickening smell filling the room only reminds me that this is the fucked-up reality I’m trapped in.
I swallow hard, trying not to look at either of them, but the second I lower my eyes, I hear Cain moving closer.
“Damn,” he mutters with a low laugh. “You look fucked up, princess.”
He then spits on the floor in disgust as he steps closer to me, a metal bowl hanging loosely from one hand while he stirs whatever’s inside with a spoon.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says casually. “I made you something special.”
A part of me wants to feel relieved at the sight of food because my body is desperate for anything at this point, desperate for energy, for strength, for something that might keep me alive through whatever the fuck this has turned into.
My stomach twists painfully from hunger, betraying me instantly, but after everything they’ve already done to me, I don’t trust myself to hope anymore, not even for something this small.
“I’m not hungry,” I let out weakly.
The second the words leave my mouth, both of them burst out laughing, the sound loud and ugly, echoing through the room in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Jesus Christ,” Dom says through a grin. “She’s so fucking funny.”
“This wasn’t a request,” Cain adds, and the way his eyes lock onto mine makes fear immediately tighten in my chest again.
I swallow hard against the dread climbing up my throat.
“I need to use the bathroom… please,” I whisper, forcing the words out past the pain tightening in my chest. “Please.”
“For sure, kitten,” Dom replies easily, and relief crashes into me so fast it almost hurts because for one stupid second, I actually believe he’s going to let me down.
But instead, he grabs the same metal pot from the floor and drops it near my feet before nudging it toward me with the tip of his boot.
“There you go,” he drawls casually. “Hope you can do it standing up.”
I blink at him in disbelief, certain I heard him wrong.
“Are you serious?” I blurt out unevenly. “You want me to pee like this?”
Neither of them answers.
My pulse starts hammering harder.
“What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do?” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to, fear and humiliation crashing together so violently I can barely breathe. “Run? Where exactly would I run? I’m locked God knows where with two fucking psychopaths. Just let me go to the bathroom, please…”
The rest of the sentence dies in my throat when Cain suddenly grabs my jaw and shoves a piece of meat into my mouth. I instantly try to spit it out, but he’s faster, his hand clamping hard over my mouth while a slow grin spreads across his face.
“No, no, no,” He tsks softly. “Don’t be rude, princess. I made this myself.”
My stomach twists violently as I try to pull away from him.
“Now chew.”
The taste hits my tongue almost immediately, greasy and strange, different from anything I can actually recognize, and nausea crawls up so fast my eyes water.
Something about it feels wrong, but his hand is still pressing against my mouth while he watches me expectantly, and eventually I force myself to chew just to make it stop.
Every swallow feels harder than the last.
“Good girl,” Cain murmurs softly after I finally get it down, slowly pulling his hand away before reaching into the bowl for another piece.
“See?” Dom says from behind him. “You even get princess treatment over here, kitten.”
“I really need to…” My words break apart before I can finish them, desperation and humiliation crashing into me so hard my chest aches with it.
“Just use the goddamn pot for fuck’s sake and stop whining like a bitch,” Cain snaps, shoving the metal pot harder between my feet with his boot.
“But…”
“That’s it,” he cuts me off coldly. “If you won’t do it yourself, I’ll fucking make you.”
The second the words leave his mouth, Dom casually hands him the knife without either of them needing to say another word, like they’ve done this together enough times to read each other without speaking.
Something cold crashes through me instantly.
“No, please—”
Cain grabs my jaw again before I can finish begging and forces another piece of meat into my mouth, then another right after it, giving me no time to spit or breathe properly before he keeps going until my mouth is too full to get anything out except muffled sounds and broken choking breaths.
Tears blur my vision completely as he grips my face harder.
“Chew!”
Then the blade slices into my stomach again.
The pain tears through me so violently my entire body convulses against the restraints while muffled cries vibrate uselessly in my throat around the food forced into my mouth.
Cain drags the knife slowly across my skin, opening fresh cuts one beside the other over the burns already covering my chest and stomach, almost careful with it, like he’s taking his time deciding exactly where he wants me to hurt next.
“Look at that,” Dom says with a grin. “What a gentleman. He’s even helping you pee.”
The words barely register at first through the pain until sudden warmth starts running down my legs.
My stomach drops.
No.
Oh God no.
Humiliation crashes over me so hard I almost stop breathing as urine pours uncontrollably down my thighs, splashing against the floor and barely hitting the pot beneath me while both of them watch it happen.
I want to disappear.
I want to die.
Cain just keeps dragging the blade lazily over my skin while staring up at me with something close to satisfaction in his eyes.
“Now chew,” he growls. “Or fucking swallow. I don’t give a shit.”
This is so wrong. So fucking wrong.
My thoughts are spinning so fast they barely make sense anymore, panic and pain crashing into each other until it feels like my mind can’t hold all of it at once.
I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve any of this.
But my body stopped feeling like mine a long time ago.
My mouth keeps chewing automatically around the food, like survival took over somewhere along the way without asking me first, while the burning sting across my skin keeps getting worse with every second.
Blood runs steadily down my stomach now, dripping over my waist and thighs in thick crimson lines before splattering onto the floor beneath me, slowly mixing with the urine around my feet in a sight so humiliating it makes fresh tears spill down my face instantly.
I want to beg him to stop. God, I want to beg!
But my mouth is too full to get the words out properly, and somehow I can feel that Cain knows it too, because he doesn’t stop cutting me.
If anything, he almost looks like he’s waiting for it, waiting for me to finally choke out another plea before giving me permission to breathe again.
Instead, the blade drags higher. A broken sound escapes me as he starts slicing into the skin over my breasts, opening fresh cuts across already burned flesh before slowly moving upward toward my collarbone.
My entire body feels like it’s on fire now.
The pain barely even registers as pain anymore, because there’s too much of it, too many places hurting at once for my brain to separate any of it properly.
My skin feels hot and numb at the same time, ruined nerve endings struggling to keep up after everything he’s already done, and every breath that leaves me comes out shaking harder than the last.
As soon as I finally manage to swallow, the begging bursts out of me uncontrollably.
“Please, Cain… please, I’m begging you, stop!”
Whatever was holding me together finally snaps completely, tears blurring everything while I feel snot starting to smear across my top lip.
But for the first time in my life, I genuinely don’t care how disgusting I look anymore.
I don’t care about dignity, makeup, appearances, any of the stupid things that used to matter before this place.
All I care about right now is making this stop.
I just want them to leave me alone for ten fucking minutes.
“Son of a…”
Dom’s voice suddenly cuts through my pleading, cold and feral in a way that instantly makes my stomach drop. My eyes move toward him before I can stop myself, and the second I see the look on his face, regret crashes through me immediately.
No.
Please God, not again.
The bulge pressing hard against his pants tells me enough, and the small relief I felt seconds ago disappears instantly. But somehow—terrifying as it is—the thought of him fucking me feels easier to survive than another second under Cain’s torture.
“Seriously?” Cain says with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re really gonna fuck her again?”
Dom’s eyes roam slowly over my body before a crooked grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Look at that blood covering her pretty cunt, bro,” he mutters while squeezing himself through his pants. “How the fuck could I not?”
“You’re fucking sick.” Cain laughs under his breath, sounding far more entertained than disgusted.
“Just let me have my fun too,” Dom says casually, stepping closer while my breathing turns uneven again. “Then you can keep playing butcher.”
“Unbelievable,” Cain mutters, smirking. “I’m pretty sure Reed’s rolling in his grave right now.”
Dom glances at Cain with obvious satisfaction before turning his attention back to me, slow and disturbingly pleased.
“Nah,” he drawls. “Reed would’ve fucked her brains out too.”