He won’t leave me here; I am sure of it.
Once inside my prison cell, Kellan sets me down on the dingy mattress that rests on the floor.
“Just in case.” He winks at me, and my sluggish, taser-fried brain catches on a second too late.
“No.” My free hand claws at the manacle he fastened around my wrist. The chain clanks loudly in the small space. “Take it off,” I snarl.
Kellan’s smirk deepens. “You aren’t the one who makes demands here, little one,” he reminds me. I yelp when he squeezes one of my breasts roughly to prove a point. “I am.”
“Fuck you, you bastard.” Kicking as hard as I can, I aim for the side of Kellan’s head. He is too busy playing with my breast to note the sudden movement.
The kick isn’t hard enough to do any real damage. It is just hard enough to knock him off balance, but not having his slimy hand on me is worth it. I have one moment to bask in the smug satisfaction at the sight of his bleeding lip and the surprise on his face before bitter outrage engulfs him. He lurches toward me, his hand grabbing at the collar of my dress as he drags me to my feet, his left hand striking my cheek in a slap that has me seeing stars.
And not the fun kind.
My ears ring, and the muscles in my neck strain against the force of his slap.
“You want to play rough?” he snarls, his hand gripping my jaw painfully as he shoves his thumb between my lips. “Go on. Suck on my thumb, you fucking whore, because soon you’re going to be down on your knees sucking a whole lot more.”
Oh hell no.
I bite down on Kellan’s thumb, my teeth sinking into his flesh until I taste the sweet copper of his blood. His sharp cry of pain is music to my ears, and I bite down harder, wanting to hear it again.
“Bitch.” That is the only thing I hear before he lands a punch to my side, the air whooshing from my lungs. My jaw drops open, releasing his injured finger, and pain twists violently through my stomach. “You’re going to regret that.”
He shouts for someone, and a few seconds later, another set of footsteps enters the room.
Looking up, I see smushed potato face number two with his broken nose and angry eyes. The guard whose nose I butchered upstairs licks his lips as his lecherous gaze wanders over me. “I’m going to have a whole lot of fun with you.”
Fuck me like a duck.
I am really in for it now.
I let loose a tidal scream when Kellan’s hand wraps itself in my hair, pulling my head backward into his lap, forcing me to stare up at him while smushed nose lands one blow after another on various parts of my body.
Kellan’s grip on my hair tightens when I try to move my head, his eyes staring down at me, a dark grin splashed across his face. Sick fuck is enjoying seeing my pain. I fight back as much as I can, refusing to lie there docilely and take the beating. It isn’t long before I can feel my body growing limp, the pain swallowing me whole, like Jonah and the whale.
Darkness seeps into my vision as another blow lands on the side of my face. My vision blurs, Kellan’s gloating mug growing more and more out of focus. The sound of the guard’s blows becomes distant as well, and all I can hear are Kellan’s soft, reassuring shushes, telling me that everything is going to be all right.
He better hope this kills me.
If it doesn’t, I’ll be back for his blood.
With that last thought, I let the familiar tide of darkness wash over me once again.
twenty-seven
Agony is tearing at my chest like a wild animal.
Three days.
Ava has already been missing for three days without any trace of where she has gone. The tracker Vas installed in her necklace is silent. Not even a blip. Footage from our security satellite shows her abduction just minutes after the building collapse, but there is no way to gain facial images. They are too distorted.
“Fuck,” I roar, sweeping my hand across the desk. Glass shatters, screens crack, and papers scatter under the weight of my frustration. The monster inside me wants blood. When I get my hands on whoever betrayed us, on whoever took my wife, I will rip them apart piece by piece and bathe in their blood.
“You know—” I look up to see Vas leaning against the doorframe of my office. “There was some good whiskey in that glass. Expensive too.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “What a waste.”
My lips curl in a sneer, and I shoot him an icy glare. “Stuff it,” I grumble.