Chapter 20 #2
As far as Terry Richards knew, she’d been on her own.
They hadn't discussed how all those men had wound up dead in the forest, he hadn't seemed to notice the scratches on her skin and bruising on her neck, and she had never mentioned that she was no longer on her own. That the very men Dr. Gardner wanted back almost as much as he wanted her back were almost within Terry’s grasp. That they’d found her, hurt her, saved her, and were trying to get back to her, ready to dismantle the doctor’s entire operation.
So far, all Terry seemed to care about was her. It seemed he’d been waiting a long time to get permission to do whatever he wanted to her, and that was all he could think about.
The things he’d done to her in this shipping container …
Whitney wasn't ready to address them yet. If she tried, she was pretty sure it would shatter whatever slim control she still had on her panic. If it slipped, then she’d shatter into a thousand pieces, pieces she wouldn't be able to put back together in time to save herself.
And there was no doubt that she had to save herself if she didn't want to wind up in Dr. Gardner’s clutches again.
No one was coming for her, and if she didn't find a way out, she had no doubt that Terry would do exactly what he said he would and break her.
Already, she was crumbling.
It didn’t matter that when the shipping container door had closed behind Terry, and he’d switched on a lantern he’d brought with him and began unzipping himself, that she had promised herself she wouldn't cry, wouldn't scream, wouldn't beg.
All three of those had happened.
The truth was, she wasn't strong, she wasn't going to be able to survive. If she was feeling this broken after just one day with the man who seemed to think she belonged to him now, then she wasn't going to endure much longer.
Once he broke her, he’d take her back to Dr. Gardner, and Whitney was under no illusion that things would be different this time around.
While she might be made to work long hours in the lab, instead of going back to her own room at night for a few hours respite, she’d be spending those hours as Terry’s plaything.
Unless she found a way to save herself.
Could she do that?
Did she have it in her?
If she was going to try, now would be the perfect time.
After unzipping himself, Terry had spent the day playing with her.
He’d made her take him in her mouth and her hands.
He’d stripped her of her sweater and bra and got himself off by thrusting between her breasts.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was on something because he seemed to be able to get hard almost immediately after already coming, and there was no way a penis behaved that way unless its owner was using a stimulant of some sort.
It seemed to go on for hours, but trapped there with no way to mark the passage of time, maybe it wasn't as long as it felt. Regardless, it didn't really matter. Finally, Terry had fallen asleep on the floor, whatever drug he’d been using likely out of his system now.
She would have guessed that when he finished using her as his personal toy, he would have left to go home.
But he must have been more exhausted than he realized, because when his eyelids began to droop, he’d mumbled something incoherent and then grabbed her and lay down with her on the unforgiving floor.
Almost immediately, Terry had gone to sleep, but exhausted as she was, sleep wouldn't come for her.
Not when his arm pinned her to his body.
Not when she could feel his length—still partially erect—pressed into her backside.
Not when she was covered in his semen, dried in places, still sticky in others, coating her chest, her hands, arms, face, and neck.
Trying to escape was her only chance. If she stayed, she knew sooner rather than later, he would be putting that disgusting penis of his inside her. Maybe not just in her vagina. He wanted to degrade and humiliate her, wanted to break her, and what better way than to take her backside.
As far as Terry knew, she was still a virgin.
He knew no one had touched her while she was still with Dr. Gardner, and she’d only been gone a couple of weeks.
There was no way he could have figured out that she’d managed to fall hard and fast for a fierce warrior, who would do anything for the people he cared about.
She was one of those people now.
Blade was out there somewhere, and she wanted to get back to him.
So she was doing this. When Terry woke up, he might be ready to take her for what he believed was her first time.
No doubt he loved the idea of tearing her virginity away from her, knowing she had no say in the matter, and Whitney was infinitely glad that even if she didn't make it out of there that was something he could never take from her.
Because it already belonged to Blade.
Entire body trembling, she did her best not to let her fear take over and wrapped her hand around Terry’s wrist. The man wasn't as big and muscled as Blade, wirier than anything else, but her fingers still couldn’t circle his wrist.
Still, she was able to lift his arm, heavy though it was, enough that she could wriggle out of his hold.
Each movement was nerve-racking.
At any second, he could wake up.
If he found her trying to escape, she had no doubt she’d be punished. He might not be able to kill her, but there were plenty of things he could do to make her wish she were dead.
Once she was out of his hold, Whitney carefully laid his arm back down again.
As she did so, he huffed, shifted slightly, and she froze.
Was he waking up?
Did he realize she was no longer pressed up against him?
Holding her breath, she waited, counting the seconds in her mind, praying that he wasn't going to open his eyes and see that she was making a move.
If worst came to worst and he woke, she could always lie and say she had to pee.
Chances were, he wouldn't believe it because he hadn't given her anything to eat or drink since he brought her there, and she’d already been forced to pee in the corner a couple of times.
Now, though, there was nothing left in her system to come out, and she was already feeling the effects of dehydration.
After counting to one hundred without him opening his eyes, Whitney determined that it was safe to move.
Staying low, she scrambled on her hands and knees a couple of feet away from Terry before stopping again.
Even though she wanted to just get up and run, she also wanted to do this carefully, minimizing the risk of Terry waking up.
Since he had no weapon on him, and she couldn’t beat him in a hand-to-hand fight, her only option was to flee, but this time she was determined there would be no freeze.
Scrambling another few feet away, she paused again. As badly as she wanted to try to find her top, she wanted out of here and away from this man more, so when he still didn't wake, she crawled the rest of the way to the door.
This might be the hardest part because the door creaked slightly as it opened. Thankfully, Terry hadn't locked it behind him. It was closed, but it wasn't latched in, so all she had to do was ease it open enough to squeeze through.
As her hands touched the cold metal, Whitney had never been more grateful in her life for her small size.
Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed that Terry Richards was still fast asleep, then she dragged in a deep breath and went for it. The more she hesitated, the greater the chances of getting caught.
Pushing against the door, it was heavier than she had been anticipating, and she had to shove it with every drop of strength she had left in her weakening body.
It moved, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Just one more push should get it open enough for her to fit through.
Another check to confirm that Terry was still passed out from the drugs he’d taken, and then she pushed again.
This time her luck didn't hold.
The door squeaked.
Behind her, she heard Terry stirring.
Without looking back, Whitney scrambled through the small opening and tried to close the door behind her.
When she found it was too heavy for her to move, she gave up, and instead took off at a dead run, her bare feet pounding the ground as she heard Terry swear as he obviously realized she was gone.