Aj
Pain ricochets through my body. My muscles seize, twisting and cramping like they’re being torn apart from the inside.
“I can’t.” The words barely make it past my lips. I curl in on myself, pressing my forehead to my knees. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Everything fucking hurts.
My skin is slick with sweat, but I’m freezing. The floor beneath me is wet and cold. Every inhale feels thicker as my whole body shakes.
“Make it stop,” I choke out.
No one answers.
“Please.”
A large, calloused hand shoots under the bed and clamps onto my arm, yanking me out. I thrash, kicking, screaming.
No!
The movement is too fast, too rough. The ground tilts, and I hit my back hard. Pain ripples up my spine. My vision blurs, shapes shifting—dark and towering.
A shadow looms over me.
Wolff.
“Get away from me!” I shout as I twist and fight to get away, my nails digging into his arms.
Grip tightening, he traps me against his body. His heat burns through my damp shirt before a sharp sting lances through my arm—
“What are you doing?” I try to shove myself out of his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a wall of muscle.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“If you’d keep the fucking IV in your goddamn arm, I wouldn’t have to do this every fucking time,” he bites out.
“Because you’re killing me!”
His breath sears against my ear. “I’m saving your goddamn life.” With his eyes boring into mine, his hold doesn’t loosen. “I need you alive. Got it?”
“Let. Me. Go.” My voice wobbles. Fury and exhaustion tangle together as tears trail down my cheeks and neck.
He releases me so fast I stumble, collapsing onto the bed.
“Keep it in this time, or the next one will hurt worse.”
Then he’s gone. The door snaps shut behind him.
“Bastard,” I mutter.
My limbs feel heavy, but I force myself to slide off the mattress, maneuvering back under the bed. I pull my knees to my chest, and the IV stings under my skin from the position. I wrap the blankets tighter around myself, every nerve in my body screaming for mercy.
This has to end.
The pain has to stop.
When I wake, my clothes are soaked in sweat, the sheets wrapped tight around me. My heart pounds like I’ve just run a mile, breaths ragged as I open my eyes.
The room is empty.
I exhale slowly, trying to force my pulse to slow.
Every time I wake up, I find myself moved from under the bed. I don’t remember crawling out. Sitting up, my head swims. The IV is gone, just a small bandage covering the puncture wound. My arms shake as I push off the mattress, my legs wobbling as I stumble toward the bathroom.
The faucet rattles under my grip. Water rushes into my cupped hands, and I gulp it down, the cold liquid soothing my raw throat. But the ache in my stomach doesn’t ease. It twists deep inside me.
I slam my palm against the counter to stay upright.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I look up.
The mirror doesn’t recognize me.
My cheeks are hollow. Eyes sunken. Skin gray and slick with sweat. I look like something dragged out of a ditch. Not a girl. Not a daughter. Just a body that’s been broken too many times.
With a wince, my fingers drift to the yellowing bruises on my neck. The skin is still tender where the collar bit into me.
That’s when I notice the collar is gone.
So why does it still feel there?
Another cold sweat breaks out across my back. My heart starts racing all over again. Hands trembling even worse. My legs feel like they’re filled with sand and electricity at the same time.
My stomach churns.
I don’t make it to the toilet.
I drop to my knees and dry heave, my body convulsing, throat burning, nothing coming up except spit and bile.
It doesn’t stop.
My skin feels too tight. My bones feel too big. I want to vacate my body. Peel the panic away.
I need something.
Something to slow my heart.
Something to quiet the noise in my head.
Something to make this stop.
Because the pain isn’t just in my body.
It’s everywhere.
I push to my feet and stumble back into the bedroom. My eyes land on a duffel bag sitting on the dresser, and I don’t hesitate digging through its contents. There has to be something, anything, to take the edge off.
“What are you doing?”
I jump, gasping.
Before I can react, he reaches past me and rips the bag from my hands. He flings it across the room. It slams into the wall with a heavy thud.
“Hey!” I snap, spinning toward him.
“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
I glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
He doesn’t respond.
I push away from the dresser, my legs barely holding me up.
“You’ve been giving me something. I want more. Whatever you put in the IV.”
His nostrils flare. “That kept you alive.”
“Then give me more.”
“No.”
I step closer, fists clenched. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Something shifts in his expression. His jaw flexes. A small twitch pulls at the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, I do.”
My nails bite into my palms. I need what’s in that bag. I lunge for it.
I don’t see him move.
One second, I’m upright—
The next, I’m slammed against the wall.
My arm wrenches behind my back. Pain shoots up my shoulder as his grip locks in place. His heavy body pins me there.
“What the hell—”
His mouth drops to my ear. “Listen carefully. You’re going to stop fighting me.”
My breath stutters at the dark warning in his tone.
“You’re going to do what I tell you.” His fingers tighten. My shoulder twinges. “Because I’m the only reason you’re still breathing.”
I whimper. “You’re hurting me—”
“Good.” His grip tightens another inch. “Maybe that’ll help you remember.”
My chest tightens.
“Do you understand?”
I swallow hard.
“Yes.”
He lets go abruptly and his footsteps retreat, the door clicking shut behind him. My knees buckle as I sink to the floor, my whole body shaking uncontrollably.
I sneak back under the bed, dragging the blankets off the mattress with me. The darkness wraps around me, safer than the open air. I curl up, knees to my chest.
Tears burn my eyes and flow down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The memories are carved into me, raw and inescapable.
Hands on my body. The weight of them. The pain they inflicted.
Their voices echo in my head, the twisted mockery of the screams I suppressed. I can’t escape them.
The door opens. Heavy boots on the floor. The bed shifts as Wolff crouches in front of it.
“Come out.”
“Go away.” I bury deeper into the blankets, curling tighter.
His hand shoots under the bed, his large fingers clamping around my upper arm. I kick and punch, but it’s pointless with him. He drags me out in one swift motion and hauls me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
“Let me go!”
He shoves me onto the bed next to a tray of food on the nightstand.
“Eat.”
I turn my head away. “I’m not hungry.”
His voice is sharper this time. “You will eat, or I’ll force-feed you.”
Lips pressed together, I glare at him.
He’s bigger than I remember. Broader and thicker through the shoulders and chest. The black t-shirt strains across muscles, sleeves tight around his arms.
His dark brown hair falls messily over green eyes that barely meet mine before shifting away.
A small scar slices through one eyebrow, disappearing into a beard that’s grown in since the last time I really looked at him.
It makes him appear rougher. Tattoos decorate his right arm—snakes, symbols, skulls. Words in languages I can’t read.
His presence takes up too much space.
I force my eyes down to the tray holding a bowl of soup and bread. My stomach recoils at the sight.
Shaking my head, I ask the question that’s been haunting me. “How long was I missing?”
At first, I held on to hope. Prayed that someone would come for me. But as the days blurred into weeks, hope faded into something duller. Numbness. It was always night. Always cold. And they were always there. Eventually, I stopped praying for rescue.
I started praying for death.
“Eleven weeks.”
The air is punched from my lungs.
Eleven weeks.
A hollow sob escapes before I can stop it. Three months. Three months of being violated, raped, and tortured. My father is one of the most powerful Sovereigns in the world, and it took almost three months to find his daughter.
“Why? Why did it take so long to rescue me?”
He takes the empty chair across the room, leans back, legs spread, just staring.
I grip the blanket tighter. “Why did it take so long?”
His expression doesn’t change. “They kept moving you,” he says flatly.
I don’t remember being moved. Just the unrelenting pain. The humiliation. The terror that never ceased. I search his face, searching for something—anything.
No pity. No sympathy.
Nothing.
Just that same blank, detached expression. The same face he wore when he fucked me on that stage in front of a room full of monsters.
“How did you find me?” My voice cracks.
He exhales without looking at me. Then stands and walks out.
Doesn’t answer.
Doesn’t even try.
Something inside me snaps.
I shove the tray off the bed. It clatters to the floor. The sound is too loud. Everything is too loud.
“How long?” I shout toward the hallway. “How long were you looking for me?”
Silence.
I stagger toward the door, gripping the wall when the room tilts sideways.
“Was he told right away?” I press, my throat burning through my emotion. “Did my dad know? Did he send you the second I went missing?”
My heart is racing too fast. My thoughts feel foggy.
“Or did he wait? Was he…embarrassed of me?”
“What about Gage?” My words tumble over each other. “Why didn’t my brother come? Why didn’t he rescue me? He would’ve—” I gasp for a breath as my chest clenches. “Why you?” I demand, stepping into the hall. “Why the fuck was it you?”
My vision blurs.
Eleven weeks… Eleven fucking weeks chained to a bed and kept in a cage.
“Were you even looking?” I whisper. “Or did you just…get there when it was convenient?”
The floor feels unstable as my legs tremble violently.
Did he watch footage first? Did he see me before he came? Did he see what they were doing to me?
I press a hand to my mouth, trying not to vomit again.
“You took so long. You took so…fucking long.”
The silence in the house feels suffocating. Every shadow looks like him. Every sound feels like a door unlocking. Giving up, I stumble back into the bedroom and shove the door shut. I can still feel hands on me. Still hear them. Still smell it.
I crawl under the bed, dragging the blanket with me. My teeth chatter as I curl into myself so tight my ribs ache.
I need to forget.
I need it quiet.
I need something to slow this down.
Anything.