Bonnie checked a dainty gold watch around her wrist. “Elisa suffered two hours during dinner.”
Cut grinned. “Perfect. Make it three.”
I slammed back to the present, coughing with a rattling explosion. My fingers rubbed the healing scabs dotted like constellations down the back of my thighs, back, and arms. The sores had switched from blazing to itchy as my body healed, but the remnants of the nails had marked me far more than superficially.
Even now, days later, I still felt the numerous stings.
I fell asleep with phantom nails stabbing me and woke up hyperventilating, dreaming of being trapped in a coffin lanced with millions of needles.
Three hours in that chair had been the worst three hours of my life.
I supposed I should be honoured that they went out of their way to destroy me. I’d proven to be an anomaly, a challenge they hadn’t anticipated. I’d screwed up their grand plans and set in motion things that no one should have to endure.
And that was just the start.
That night, after the Iron Chair, I succumbed to a rattling flu.
I had no reserves. Barely eaten. Lacked sunlight and love.
Living with such evil and negativity stripped my immune system, shooting me straight into chills and body aches.
And there was no one to nurse me better.
Vaughn was banished from my sight. Jasmine was missing.
The rest became a blur as I’d huddled in a sweat-riddled bed and shivered.
My room never rose above a chill. I had no energy to start a fire, and even if I did, I’d been given no fresh wood to start one.
I was cold and hungry and desperately wanted to leave. I tried to remember what life was like before Hawksridge, before Jethro left, before my mother died. But I came up empty. All those happy memories were blank.
Unknown Number: Fuck, I miss you. Knowing you’re okay…I can’t tell you how thankful I am. Is that the truth? Is she keeping you safe?
My heart fell off its pedestal, splattering on the floor. I was okay. I was stronger than I looked, but I wasn’t as brave as I believed.
I coughed again, wracked with sick shivers.
Jethro, I want to tell you everything.
Tell you what you mean to me.
Tell you what they’ve done to me.
I wanted to cry on his shoulder and share my burdens—to eradicate what I’d lived through, so I could let go and forget. Instead, I bottled it up and kept my secrets.
Needle&Thread: Yes, I’m safe. She’s been wonderful. They haven’t touched me. Don’t worry about me. Just get better.
Keeping the truth from Jethro was the least I could do for him. I shuddered, unable to stop the memories of what’d happened once I’d been strapped to the Iron Chair.
The Black Diamond brothers entered an hour into my torture. They watched me with sympathy but didn’t go against Cut’s command to leave me be. Apart from Flaw, I hadn’t spoken to any of the brothers since the shooting. They’d been ordered to keep their distance, cutting me off from any ally I might’ve found.
Dinner was served and I squirmed as my body weight pushed me slowly onto the spikes. The burn of each spread into one blanket of painful horror.
Blood smeared the arms of the chair and I didn’t dare look at the floor to see if I dripped over the carpet. I was hot and cold, covered in sweat and goosebumps. My muscles seized; every twitch sent wildfire through my system.
And then Vaughn arrived.
His eyes met mine.
“Threads!” He almost collapsed in rage. “Fuck! Let her go!” Charging up the room, V moved so swiftly and furiously, he managed to sucker punch Cut in the jaw before anyone reacted.
“V, don’t!” Part of me loved that he’d landed one on Cut. The other was horrified. “I’m okay. Don’t get yourself—”
“Stop hurting her, you fucking bastard!” V swung again but missed as Cut ducked and snapped his fingers for the Black Diamonds to grab V.
“Leave him alone!”
My screaming didn’t do any good.
Commotion shot to mayhem. Men shoved back chairs. Fists swung. Grunts echoed.
“Stop! Please stop!”