49. Aj #2
My eyes burn again. I rub at them and reach for the vodka bottle on the coffee table, taking another swallow even though it barely tastes like anything anymore.
The doorbell rings.
I ignore it.
Whoever it is can fuck off.
It rings again, longer this time, then again, insistent, over and over until the sound drills straight through my skull.
“Oh my god,” I groan, shoving the blanket off and pushing myself off the couch with the bottle still clutched in one hand. “Go away!”
The ringing cuts off.
Two seconds later, it starts again.
“Asshole,” I mumble, stumbling toward the front door as Jackal launches off the couch and takes off barking ahead of me. As I yank the door open, I’m already halfway to telling Sienna to get a life.
But no one’s there.
The porch is empty.
I blink out into the dark, swaying a little as I look left, then right. Nothing but the porch light, the wet shine of the driveway, and the quiet stillness of the gated neighborhood.
“Very funny, Sienna!” I yell, leaning against the doorframe. “Door’s unlocked. Come in when you’re ready to stop being a bitch!”
No answer.
Rolling my eyes, I slam the door shut behind me, wandering back toward the kitchen. Jackal’s barking fades into an annoyed little huff as he circles my legs.
“Good boy.” I scratch behind his ears with my free hand.
I set the bottle on the counter, grab a glass, and pour another drink. After knocking it back in one swallow, I pour another.
Jackal’s low growl stops me cold.
I turn toward him, following his stare to the back door. The glare from the kitchen lights turns the glass black, leaving only the shape of someone standing on the deck.
“Jesus, Sien—”
I head for the door, but the second I pull it open, the words die in my throat.
It’s not Sienna.
It’s Wolff.
That stupid wolf mask from the Hunt hides most of his face. Leather gloves cover his hands. A black jacket is zipped all the way to his throat, making his shoulders look even broader. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there in the dark, staring at me through the hollow black eyeholes.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
Jackal moves in front of me with another growl, hackles raised, teeth flashing.
I fold my arms over my chest and glare at the mask. “What do you want? Because if you came here to fuck me, you can forget it. I’m not that stupid anymore.”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a knife.
“Very funny.”
He flips it once in his hand, the blade flashing under the moonlight.
“Are you fucking insane?” I back up a step. “Get the hell out of my house.”
Jackal barks viciously, teeth bared.
“You don’t scare me, Wolff. Leave before I call my dad.”
He steps inside. The back door swings shut behind him with a quiet click. A chill slides down my spine.
“Wolff—”
He keeps coming. I back up faster, pulse roaring in my ears.
“Stop. I’m serious.”
Jackal lunges first.
Wolff moves so fast, I barely see it—he kicks the puppy hard, sending him tumbling across the kitchen floor with a pained yelp. Jackal slams into the island. A bottle of vodka shatters, glass exploding across the tile.
“No!” I scream, the sound ripping out of me as I rush toward Jackal.
My bare feet crunch over broken glass, but the pain barely registers. All I see is my dog whimpering, blood already streaking his fur.
Wolff beats me there.
He grabs Jackal by the scruff and drags him across the broken shards. The puppy whimpers and yelps, still snapping weakly, trying to bite.
My stomach lurches. “Stop! You’re hurting him!” Terror and rage twist together in my chest until I can’t breathe.
Wolff doesn’t respond. He hauls Jackal up and throws him into the laundry room, slamming the door shut. The dog throws himself against the other side, barking, whining, scratching at the wood.
“What are you doing—”
Wolff whips around and backhands me across the face, sending my head snapping sideways. I crash to the floor, and pain explodes across my cheekbone. The coppery taste of blood floods my mouth. My vision whites out for a second.
Heart pounding, I scramble back across the floor, glass cutting into my palms.
“Wolff, stop—”
He reaches down and grabs my hair, dragging me across the broken glass toward the counter.
Shards slice into my knees and thighs. I scream, clawing at his wrist, but he’s too strong.
As he shoves me face-down over the counter, the edge digs painfully into my hips.
He yanks my leggings and underwear down in one violent motion, tearing the fabric.
“Fuck you!” I thrash under him, trying to buck him off. “I hate you!”
His knee forces my legs apart. I scream again, clawing at the cabinets, trying to pull myself away, but he’s too heavy. His belt unbuckles with a metallic clink that turns my blood to ice.
“Jackal!” I scream the safeword over and over. “Jackal, Jackal, Jackal!”
His hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my cries. I bite him hard, but it only makes him angrier. He wrenches my head back by my hair and slams my face against the marble. Pain blinds me.
I go limp against the counter and slide off.
His boot slams into my ribs, flipping me onto my back. I gasp and clutch my side as he kneels over me, tearing my shirt open. I sob, kicking at him, my hands slapping uselessly against his chest.
Grabbing my wrists, he pins them above my head with crushing strength. The cold air hits my exposed skin as he forces my legs apart.
“Stop it. Please…please, stop… Wolff. I don’t want—”
His hand shoots to my throat. The same hands I once trusted—that had calmed my panic attacks, that I let wrap around my neck because it was him. Now his fingers dig in painfully, cutting off my air, bruising the skin I had willingly given him.
He thrusts forward, entering me in one cruel, tearing movement.
I scream at the sharp, burning pain. My body arches away from him, but he’s too heavy, too strong. Glass shreds my back and thighs with every thrust, the sharp edges cutting deeper as my body is dragged across the floor.
This is what he threatened me with. This is the version of Wolff I always knew existed underneath…but refused to accept.
“Jackal… Jackal…” The safeword dies in my throat as the world fractures.
I’m not here anymore.
I’m back in the cage.
Birdie is sitting in the corner, small and trembling, hugging her knees. Her eyes are wide with terror as the men laugh outside the bars.
“It’s okay, Birdie,” I whisper, reaching for her through the darkness. My fingers brush hers. They’re so cold. “It will be over soon. It always is. Just close your eyes. Don’t look. It will be over soon…”
The pain fades.
Everything fades.
I’m floating somewhere far away, holding Birdie’s tiny hand while the monster above me keeps moving, keeps breaking what’s left of me.
I lie to both of us with the same words I use every time.
It’ll be over soon.
It’ll be over soon.
It’ll be over soon.