Vanessa was torn, desperate to help me, desperate to get away.
“I can’t leave you!” she cried out, her voice pleading. “Help me get you up, Laney! Help me!”
My voice was sharp with pain. “No! Find someone! Quickly!”
Her face stricken, Vanessa turned and ran.
“I’m coming back!” she yelled over her shoulder.
I lay on the floor, the carpet rough against my cheek. Flashes of the horror that I’d seen made me shudder uncontrollably.
What I saw! Oh my God!
Ash’s beaten body, the thugs, the man with his cock in his hand, not a breath of sanity in his eyes, screaming at Ash.
They were going to rape him.
The ugly truth squeezed my heart and I started to cry in heaving sobs. Rage and shock and fear and pain—it was too much.
Every breath tore at my body, burning, tortured with fear and sorrow and hopelessness.
I was gasping, fighting for air as anxiety threatened to overwhelm me.
And then I felt gentle hands on my arms, on my shoulders, carefully lifting me into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?”
Ash.
His voice was hoarse and cracked, but his gaze was steady as he examined my face, his worried eyes darting to mine, along the corridor behind us, then back to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. “Should I help you get back in your wheelchair?”
I hiccupped, wiping the tears from my eyes and the snot from my nose as I nodded wordlessly.
Ash grunted as he took my full weight in his arms, lifting me smoothly and seating me in the chair.
I saw him wince as he moved, and I knew that helping me had caused him great pain.
I rested my shaking hand on his arm, my fingers catching in the ripped fabric of his shirt.
“Are you okay?” I stammered.
He swallowed and glanced over his shoulder nervously.
“We have to go. It’s not safe.”
Ash
Moving as fast as I could, ignoring the pain that sliced through me with every step, I gripped the handles of her wheelchair and ran along the corridor. I could feel the fragments of torn material pulling at the broken skin on my back and ass, blood soaking into what was left of my clothes. I was afraid to jostle the girl, aware that she was already hurting, but I had no choice. I didn’t know how long we had before Oleg came after us.
Her interruption had saved me.
I knew that if she hadn’t opened the door to that bathroom, Sergei would have plowed my ass until my backside was nothing but raw meat. He’d promised exactly that after he’d tried to fuck my mouth and I’d threatened to throw up on him again.
When Oleg had returned to say that more witnesses had arrived, Sergei had held the gun to my head, frothing with rage. But Oleg had yelled at his boss, and forced him out of the bathroom.
I couldn’t believe they’d left me alive.
Crawling on hands and knees, skin on fire, I’d pulled my torn clothes together and forced them onto my mutilated body, the pain intense.
I’d already puked once from shock, but now I had a deeper fear. This girl had seen their faces, seen what they’d done to me—which meant she was in danger.
“Where’s your room?” I hissed out, my mouth close to her hair, catching the scent of coconut.
“Go left. Room 113.”
People stared as we crossed the hotel lobby, but I ignored them all. At the girl’s door, I gently pried her purse from her shaking hands and searched through it until I found her keycard.
Once we were inside, her cell phone started to ring furiously and that seemed to shock her out of her daze. She spoke into the phone, her eyes fixed on me as I stood gazing at her warily, my breath still coming in heavy pants.
A few seconds later, I heard voices outside her room.
I peered through the peephole, hoping like fuck that it wasn’t the evil bastard.
But I recognized them from the night before.
“It’s your friends,” I whispered, the relief in my voice obvious.
“Let them in, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.
I opened the door and the two women almost fell into the room.
“Laney! Laney! Oh my God! Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” she said, tears making a lie of her words. “I’m okay.”
Laney. That was her name
“Give me my phone,” ordered the taller one, the brunette. “I’m calling the police.”
“No!” I barked, grabbing the phone from her.
They all turned to stare at me, fear as well as anger on their faces.
“You can’t call the police,” I repeated, my voice harsh. “It’s not safe.”
The brunette shook her head furiously.
“That guy had a gun! My friend was nearly assaulted and . . .”
“So was Ash,” said the girl quietly.
The brunette’s head whipped around so fast, she almost sprained her neck.
“What?”
“That’s what I saw in the bathroom,” Laney said, her voice soft. “Four men were . . . assaulting him.”
“Then we have to call the police!” the brunette cried out with frustration.
“I can’t trust the police.”