1. Riley #2
“Three times,” I say, my mind in too much of a frenzy to come up with a lie. “But only twice on the job.”
When he slaps me again, I have to chew the inside of my cheek to stop angry tears from welling in my eyes.
“Oh, only twice on the job, is that all?” Aron croons. “Did you like that? Do you like having your cunt torn apart by strange men’s cocks without permission?”
Corrado whines. The ground destabilises beneath me, and my insides turn to ice. Cold sweat erupts all over me. But I try to keep my features expressionless under Aron’s gleeful scrutiny.
“No, not particularly.” I shrug, and he guffaws before bringing the outstretched hand in contact with my cheek yet again with a particularly resounding crack.
“How about your asshole? Did they fuck that too?”
“One of them did.”
“How did you like that?”
“Even less than the other stuff.”
“Well why the fuck would you keep coming back for more then?” he asks, raising his arms wide theatrically. “Huh, why? Could it be that Volker won’t let his little mascot quit?”
I grit my teeth and count to ten before replying, “I wouldn’t know. I never asked him.”
With the next slap, an involuntary whimper peels off my lips. Straightening back up from the blow, I ball my fists.
“This is what I do. It’s who I am. That’s why I keep coming back,” I force through my clenched teeth.
For a heartbeat, Aron looks at me with something suspiciously close to respect. But then his gaze hardens, and his hand whips forward. I yelp and stumble, holding the inflicted side of my face with both hands.
“What you are is a traitorous fucking bitch,” he tells me coldly, all traces of his smile evaporating. “And if you think that what happened to you until now was bad, then think again.”
He brings his arm back a little further in preparation for another merciless slap. My fist shoots forward and collides with his jaw—feebly. He doesn’t even blink.
The air around us solidifies as everyone goes completely still. I hardly dare breathe.
Aron tilts his head, not taking his eyes off me. “It fights back,” he drones, his tone dripping with vitriol. “Good. I was hoping for that.” His glare clashes with mine. “It’s way more fun hurting people who don’t just let you. And I’ve wanted to hurt you for a very long time, Riley.”
“Mr Krasnik, this is a misunderstanding!” Corrado squeals before I can react, wiggling in the hold of his captors.
“Mr Krasnik, he says.” Aron shakes his head. “Fuck me, that’s one I haven’t heard in a while. Why don’t you—”
“Aron!” I cut him off, and he refocuses on me with a frown. “Listen to me! We are in the resistance. Sort of.”
“Is she for fucking real?” one of the men giggles, the sound like a girl’s and at odds with his bulky stature.
I roll my eyes.
“Sort of in the resistance, are you? While shooting pretty pictures for the Continuum propaganda?” His body’s heat envelops me as he closes the distance between us.
“Think! Yes, I’ve been taking pictures for them. Pictures they wanted me to take. But I’ve also been taking photos that I wanted. And we’ve been trying to send those to Synechord.”
“Oh, so you’ve been sort of in the resistance while whoring yourself to the Continuum Consuls while trying to send photos to Synechord. The same Synechord that’s been silent for five years. The same Synechord that dropped nukes to cut us off. Do I have that right?”
Corrado and I exchange an uncomfortable look.
“Well, what the fuck would you expect me to do?” I throw my arms wide to focus Aron’s attention on my body, hoping that will help me drive the point home—I’m five-foot-two and around one hundred and ten pounds. “I’ve been doing the only thing I can do. I’ve been doing what I can do best.”
“Hmmm,” he grumbles ominously. “Tell me, if I have my tech guy search that laptop of yours, will he find any evidence to support what you’re saying?”
Corrado and I exchange another look—a despairing one—before Corrado responds, rambling, “Well ... no. No, but ... but you see, that’s by design. We had to make it so that there would be no evidence. That’s the whole point.”
Aron licks his plump lower lip like a predator before devouring his prey, completely deaf to the pleading note in Corrado’s voice. “How very convenient.”
I can tell from the way his chin wobbles that Corrado isn’t far from tears. And I’m sensing that much as he would like to see me cry, male tears would only provoke the Necromancer and do us no favours.
“For the most part, yes, very,” I tell Aron. “But right now it’s really fucking inconvenient.”
Unsurprisingly, he laughs again, and right on cue, his men do too.
“Riley, Riley, Riley ...” With his fingertips, he traces my cheek, still so tender from his blows that even the gentle contact stings.
“You really are something.” He lays his hand on my shoulder, the palm enveloping it whole.
“Right. You two.” He nods his head to his men.
“Take the crybaby away. I’d like some private time with Miss Hotshot now. ”
Smirking with sadistic relish, the two men holding Corrado exchange a look. So do we, our mouths gaping mutely and eyes bulging. Dread coils in my belly. My pulse is galloping through my ears, muting all other sound.
That one moment seems to stretch forever.
It’s like I’m watching it from a distance and replaying it in slow motion in my mind.
I watch them drag my closest friend—my only friend—away, kicking and screaming, knowing this may be the last time we ever see each other.
I snap out of my stupor when he reaches for me.
“Wolfie! WOLFIE!”
“Corrado!”
His hands. I need to hold his hands one last time. I need to thank him. I need to say I’m sorry for everything. I need him to know. I can’t let him leave like this.
I make to lunge forward, but something hard crushes my breasts and an iron grip around my chest holds me in place, my side pressed tight against Aron’s firm body.
“Corrado!” I cry out, and I struggle, but it’s no use.
“Easy, Hotshot, easy.” An amused voice sounds above me.
That bastard.
Impotent fury swells inside of me like a volcanic eruption, rushing to the surface.
I could forgive his mistrust and his hatred.
Given what he knows about us and what he doesn’t, it is not unreasonable for him to assume we’re enemies.
But not to give us the benefit of the doubt after what we have told him?
To deny us any small mercy, to revel in his cruelty the way he clearly does?
Not that I’m surprised. He’s what I expected, what I feared he would be.
Only monsters thrive in this cesspool of a world.