“You were supposed to be MINE,” he roars. Color stains his cheeks red as his lip curls back, baring his teeth. He looks like a wild animal—unpredictable and dangerous.
His eyes are wide and manic looking as he stares back at me, disgust and revulsion clear to see. “I have no need for a slut,” he sneers, “so which is it going to be—are you a whore, or are you mine?”
I must have a death wish, but then, death would be preferable to any sort of life with him. He resembles every one of my nightmares; makes my limbs shake and my heart race at just the mention of his name. I have always hated how weak he makes me. In his presence, I’m nothing more than a trembling, terrified statue, barely able to speak, but I’m at my lowest point right now, so close to giving up that the thought of angering him doesn’t affect me the way it should.
Lawrence was my own personal monster before I learned how to fight, before I was molded into the killer I am today. He makes me feel like the scared kid I used to be. But I’m not that kid anymore. He affects me in ways I don’t fully understand, but regardless of the reaction he evokes in me, or the way his presence turns my body to lead, he will never, ever own all of me.
I tilt my chin, and stare into the dark, bottomless pits that have become his eyes. “I will never be yours.”
Violence flashes across his face, darkening his features, and my whole body begins to shake. I’m frozen in place, petrified despite my inner bravado.
With his tight hold on my neck, he propels me backward toward the bed that occupies the far corner of the room.
“Maybe I should just start fresh with the next generation,” he snarls. His face is inches from mine, but I can hardly focus on it as my vision blurs from lack of oxygen. Whether that’s due to him cutting off my air supply, or my hyperventilating state, I’m not sure.
He loosens his grip on my throat as he shoves me onto the bed, and with the little bit of distance he’s created, I’m able to gather my wits enough to calm myself somewhat and gulp down several lungfuls of air, relieved when the fog in my brain lifts somewhat and I can think more clearly.
The meaning of his words finally registers with me, sickening me to the core. “You want to impregnate me and try your luck with my daughter when you’re old enough to be her grandfather?” I bark out a caustic laugh that comes out more high-pitched and hysterical than I’d like. “Tough luck, you sick fuck.” I’ve already pissed him off, so I might as well keep going. He’s going to do whatever he wants with me anyway. The last couple of weeks here have undoubtedly robbed me of my sanity because I don’t even care if I can’t get my limbs to cooperate enough to fight him off. I’m so. Fucking. Done. Done with being at his mercy, with letting him dictate my every thought and control my every movement. Alive or dead, what does it really matter, so long as I’m free of him.
So, I’m all in as I say my next words, knowing they’re going to infuriate him beyond belief. “You think you have the men here under your thumb? You think they were okay with babysitting a pampered princess?” I laugh in his face, even as his fingers once again tighten around my throat, threatening to cut off my words. “If I wasn’t a soldier, in their minds, I served no purpose...you must know what they do to their soldiers.”
The blood drains out of his face and his eyes flare in outrage. Quicker than I can blink, he’s yanking up my dress, tearing it in his rush to confirm what I’m saying. With the fabric around my hips, he can plainly see the small white scars just above my pubic hairline, or the one right below my belly button. If you didn’t know to look for them, you’d hardly notice they were there.
“No,” he gasps.
His fingers dig into my hip, and I know they’ll leave bruises, but I don’t even register the pain.
“Yup.” I’ve never been so gleeful to have something so basic taken away from me. “They sterilized me. Wheeled me into the operating room like I was a fucking dog getting spayed.”
His eyes are wide with shock as he moves his gaze to the other scar, and I notice when he spots the owl tattoo, with its wings spread out and a dagger driven down through its head, sitting just above it, entangled in the tail of the phoenix tattoo I had done as soon as I escaped last summer. It might have seemed like a waste of money, especially when I didn’t have much. I had to forgo several nights in a motel just to afford it, but it was worth every penny. It reinforced everything I’d fought for, and everything I still had to achieve in order to claim my freedom. Since then, I’ve found something so much more meaningful than simply being free. I have found acceptance, love, family.
His eyes bounce between the mercenary symbol tattooed on my hip, and the small white scars, glaring daggers at them, as if he can make it all disappear by sheer will. As fury builds within him, his gaze flicks up to mine and his grip on my neck tightens.
“You have been a complete waste of my time,” he hisses scathingly. His face is scrunched in anger as he hovers over me, pushing against my neck and using his weight to drive me further into the mattress. The intent is clear. This time, he’s not trying to scare me.
“She never gave a shit about you. She discarded you; wrote you off as dead. You were mine to do whatever I wanted with, but as you grew older, and you looked so much like her, I thought I was getting a second chance.” He laughs humorlessly, the harsh bark sounding unhinged in my ringing ears.
Unable to breathe, panic flares to life, and I claw at his hand, frantically trying to push him off me. Adrenaline courses through my body, clashing with the paralyzing fear I always experience in his presence. I feel like the two parts of myself are at war with one another.
Black spots obscure my vision as he leans in and presses his lips to my ear. "I know you've come to care about that brother of yours. Maybe once I'm done here, I'll send one of my men to torture and kill him. Tell him how you screamed for his help as I drained the life out of you."
Something in me snaps, and everything goes hazy. It’s like I go into a rage blackout. Anger surges through my veins, burning away the all-consuming fear. It’s one thing for this sick fuck to threaten and terrorize me, but not my brother. He’s done everything he can to protect me, and I know he’s fighting to get to me now. We only just found each other, and I’m sure as fuck not about to let anyone harm him.
I’m not sure what happens, but the next thing I know, Lawrence is lying on the floor on his back. His eyes are wide, his face pale, as I drive a knife into him, over and over again. I feel the warm flecks of blood as they hit my face, and my hand slips on the blade as it becomes slick with sweat and blood, yet I don’t stop, even as the life drains out of his eyes, and his body falls still beneath me.
I stab.
And stab.
And stab.
Chapter 5
My eyes dart frantically around the empty cell.