Zye wastes no time ripping my panties down, getting ready to rape me and that’s when I realize I’m feeling true fear. I start thrashing and screaming at the top of my lungs, but all he does is deliver a devastating blow to my face, almost knocking me unconscious. He grabs my bleeding jaw, forcing me to look at him as I lie limp, paralyzed.
“I told you never to fuck with me, Arabella,” he bites, voice shaking with raw anger. “Now you're going to learn what real consequences feels like. Real brutality. And whether you survive what we’re about to do… that’s entirely up to me.”
A tear rolls back into my hairline as I stare up at him, but there’s nothing behind my crying eyes anymore. No fear or begging. Just a hollow quiet. The kind that settles in when your lungs keep breathing, but everything else shuts down.
My mind drifts, unchained, pulling away from the van, from Zye forcing himself inside me for the first time, from their rough hands on my naked, bruised skin, from their vile words around me, from the burns of the ropes. Everything dulls. The sounds of their bodies colliding with mine and the pain I feel.
I float above myself, watching from somewhere far away, numb and light. They can take what they want, say what they want, but they’ve already lost the part of me they came to break. She’s not here anymore.
All three of my foster brothers viciously rape me, singly taking turns. Or all together at the same time. Repeatedly for hours, while Gray watches from the doors, taunting the gate to my freedom.
Until,
I’m lifeless. Dead.
Chapter Sixteen
Aurelia
I stare at myself in the mirror, adjusting the red wig perched atop my head. It’s styled into a complex updo, two black, Japanese spikes securing it at the back, and the hair cascades forward, partially covering my blacked-out contacts. Dark makeup surrounds my eyes, my lips painted full, black with a red ombre bleeding out toward the edges.
I let my gaze drop lower, taking in the black silk two-piece dress. It hugs my frame, decorated with delicate red flowers.
I slide my arms into long, silk gloves that stretch all the way up to my upper arms, until finally, I reach for the black Masquerade mask and secure it behind my head, completing, a reminder of how little of my real self is left for anyone to see.
It’s perfect. He won’t recognize me like this.
When I hear a knock on the door, I know it’s Blush. I flick off the bathroom light and open the front door to find her standing there, looking like sin dipped in glitter. She’s toned down from her usual performance gear, but not by much.
Her tanned skin gleams with pink shimmer, a skintight black dress clinging to her curvaceous figure, barely containing her tits, which are almost pushed up to her chin. A sleek mask hides half her face, but her glowing pink irises burn right through it.
She lets out a slow, appreciative whistle, her gaze dragging down my body and back up again.
“Damn, girl,” she breathes, her eyes locking on mine. “Are yousureyou want to stick with boring dick all your life?”
I chuckle, stepping past her and pulling the door shut behind me.
“Actually, don’t tell Wrath I said that,” she adds quickly with a nervous giggle.
I just roll my eyes, smirking. “Your secret’s safe. For now.”
We walk together toward Billy’s trailer to catch a ride, and she starts to bombard me with questions about tonight.
“This isn’t about Kyro, is it?” she asks. “I mean, you know that perverted motherfucker is already dead, right?”
I nod slowly, the cool night air kissing my skin.
“Oh, I know he’s dead. Hell told me as soon as he found me.”
“So, who is it?”
I take a deep breath, the unease slithering through me, the memory churning vividly in my mind.
“An old… boyfriend. He set me up to be gangraped by all three of my foster brothers. He watched every second that ticked by and did nothing.”
The words slip out more casually than I meant, but as I say them, I realize I’m beginning to feel it, the light release of freedom I’ve always craved. The ability to speak my truth, to act on my own terms, without fear of those who’ve wronged me.
It’s strange, this new feeling. Liberating, but almost unsettling. Still, I know I’ll never be ashamed of who I am, not after everything. If anyone should feel shame, it’s them.