Chapter 52
CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO
JULIETTE
My gut instincts were correct, unfortunately.
Victor stands in front of me, a gun in his hand, a smile on his face.
He thinks he’s somehow got the upper hand on me, and maybe he has.
I mean, he’s in my brand-new condo, he’s holding me at gunpoint, but he doesn’t have Cade, and that means I’ve bested him at least in something.
“What do you want?” I demand.
“You know what I want. Take your clothes off, baby.”
I hate him.
Down to my bones, I hate this man.
“I’m not taking my clothes off,” I state.
He makes a tsking sound, tilting his head to the side, his eyes focused on mine and looking nowhere else. God, I wish I could reach out and slap him across the face. As much as I want to do that, I know he’s got a gun, and I highly doubt he’s afraid to use it.
“I think you are,” he murmurs. “Because it’s what I want, and I’ve got a gun. Don’t act like you’re a prude now, baby.”
I hate the way he calls me baby. Hate. It. Clenching my teeth, gnashing them back and forth, I ball my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him, waiting for what he’s going to do next.
If he thinks I’m going to get naked for him, he’s going to have to make me. Because I am not doing anything for, to, or with him ever again.
“You sure have no problem getting naked for your new man, and here you are, standing in front of me, refusing. What the fuck?” he demands.
Pressing my lips together, I refuse to answer him. All Victor wants is to control me. But I fucking refuse to give him what he wants. Not anymore. I did that for years. And never again. I’m not scared of him anymore.
“I love him, and I don’t love you. That’s all.”
“Yeah?” he asks. “Take your fucking clothes off, or you’ll never see him again.”
I need to stall. Though I’m not sure why it would matter. Literally nobody knows where I am right now. I open my mouth to ask him why he wants me naked, because I am not going to willingly do anything with him.
But I don’t get the chance to ask anything, to stall for even a minute longer, because Victor quickly closes the distance between us, and I feel the cool barrel of the gun press against the middle of my forehead.
“Take your fucking clothes off,” he screams.
Spittle flies from his mouth. I tremble. The rage radiates off him in waves. I can feel it soak into me. Closing my eyes slowly, I inhale through my nose, hold my breath, and let it out of my mouth slowly.
When I open my eyes, I look directly into his. Lifting my chin slightly, I look down my nose at him. I fucking hate this piece of shit, but right now, I don’t think I can do anything except what he demands.
“Unless you want me to get the kid, bring him here, and have him watch what I do to you, I would start taking your fucking clothes off.”
Cade.
I can’t let anything happen to him.
So I do something I swore I’d never do again, but I do it out of self-preservation and Cade’s protection.
I don’t know what Victor is capable of when it comes to other people.
I only know what he’s capable of when it comes to me, and it’s nothing I want any part of, but I’ll endure it all for Cade’s safety.
I’m dirty from work, no doubt sweaty and disgusting, which works in my favor, because no smell coming from me is going to be enticing by any means. Reaching for the button on my jean shorts, I pop it open before letting them fall to my feet.
Keeping my shoes on, I take my shorts off, then my panties. Victor takes a step backward, just enough for me to reach for the hem of my shirt. I pull it off over my head, tossing it somewhere in the distance before I unhook my bra and let it slide down my arms and fall to the floor.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voice is softer and sweeter than it was just seconds ago.
Yes. Yes, it was hard. I don’t want to be standing here, in this empty condo where nobody knows I am, naked and scared shitless. I don’t want any part of it. Pressing my lips together, I decide to play along.
Maybe if I do a decent enough job of playing the game, I can figure out how to get myself out of this room before he hurts me too badly.
One can only hope when it comes to Victor.
Although I’ve never been able to get away from him when we’re in the same room before. I’ve always had to wait until he goes to work, or the store, or somewhere else before I can sneak out.
And sneaking out is what I aim to do.
“On your knees,” he demands as he begins to walk backward. I hate this part, absolutely hate it, but I do it. Because I know I won’t be able to get out of this, at least not yet.
Sinking down to my knees, I wait for his next instruction, knowing this is all about control for him and he’s going to feed me the commands he wants me to follow. Step by step, and if I try to move any quicker than that, he will make me go back and start over, except with a swollen eye.
“Down on your hands and knees, like the fucking animal you are. Crawl to me.”
I do what he demands. On my hands and knees, I keep my eyes on his, but I’m not focused on him. I keep my vision blurry as I crawl toward him, inch by inch. He takes a few more steps backward as I do—trying to be funny or something, I don’t even know—but I also don’t care.
He shouts at me to stop, so I do.
“Open your mouth,” he growls.
Parting my lips, I open my mouth. I expect him to take his pencil-thin cock out, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he shoves the barrel of the gun into my mouth.
I feel it scrape against my teeth. I have a fleeting worry whether I’m going to have a chipped tooth or two, but then I decide that I don’t care.
It won’t matter. I’ll be dead soon anyway.
“Get that barrel nice and wet, because I’m going to fuck you with it,” Victor coos.
I hate him.
But I suck the barrel of the fucking gun off, keeping my eyes on him but unable to focus on anything, seeing absolutely nothing. Then the gun is gone, and he shouts at me to get on my back.
I do.
Then he demands that I spread my legs.
And I do.
I stare at the ceiling. There’s a little brown spot, a ring, maybe from a leak or something. I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter, but I focus on that spot. I stay focused on it through every single humiliating moment.
I plan my revenge. I plan his death. Because I’m not going to ever endure this again. This is the last time. The absolute last fucking time. Victor will die. And I’m going to be the one to kill him.