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The office was ransacked. The desk broken and overturned, strewn papers covered the floor. And to the left, a row of filing cabinets pulled no more than three feet away from the wall.
Despair settled in my bones as I took a step forward.
“I—” Priest started.
I raised a hand, signaling him to stop.
Another step.
“Zain, you need to let me—” This time I ignored him and took the final step behind the cabinets.
“NO.” The single words left my lips with a painful howl that tore from my soul.
I fell to my knees and crawled toward my baby sister. My hands met a dark thick sludge and I gagged.
“Sara… nononono. Sara, wake up.” I reached forward wanting, needing to hold her but Priest’s arms locked around my chest holding me in place.
“NO! Let me go!” I thrashed. “SARA!” I screamed into the air. Screamed again until my voice was horse and nothing but broken wails fell from my lips.
I turned my head and buried my face in Priest’s chest. “This isn’t real,” I choked, “Please, God, don’t let it be real.”
But it wouldn’t matter how much I begged or pleaded.
There was no God in that warehouse.
Sara was gone.
And now, I would set fire to the world.
Chapter 14
Isadora
I’m pulled from a heavy sleep when a hand lands against my face. I bring my hands up to block the attack but I’m too slow. Calloused fingers wrap around my neck, squeezing until I can barely catch my breath.
“Zain,” I choke, blinking back tears. “Ple—please.” I have no idea what I’m asking for, but right now, I’ll do anything to get him off me. In the darkness, I can just make out his face through the sliver of light that peeks through the curtains, and what I see has dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
His eyes are open wide, but his expression remains blank. “You killed her,” he says, his voice void of emotion. “Now you’re going to die.”
Oh god, he’s dreaming.
I claw at his hands, digging my nails into his skin and hoping the pain will call to him. When that doesn’t work, I kick out and buck my hips wildly. With as much strength as I can muster, I finally manage a muffled scream. “ZAIN!”
His grip loosens and I wiggle beneath him until I finally gain the upper hand. I shove him off of me and when he lands on the floor, I scramble off the other side of the bed and press my back to the wall.
Zain scrubs his hands over his face, his eyes dart around the room, searching for someone who isn’t there. When they finally lock onto mine, I watch as he processes the situation.
“No.” He moans, eyes perusing me until they stop on my neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He leaps off the floor and rushes toward me.
When his hand darts out, I flinch involuntarily, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He places his palm against the side of my neck, thumb brushing over the tender skin at my throat. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Show me where it hurts.”
“I—I’m okay,” I semi lie. I’m okay physically, but mentally? I’m thinking not. Nope. Definitely not. Because I’m becoming slightly enamored with this man I’ve known less than twenty-four hours. This man who bought me then—for all intents and purposes—raped me in front of a room full of sick perverted men that included my father and brother, has now nearly killed me in my sleep.
But it wasn’t rape was it, Isa?I didn’t ask for it, and I never agreed to it. But I wanted it, God help me I wanted it.
Zain inches closer, his thumb still caressing my neck, his fingers gentle as he tilts his head and searches my bruised flesh. Heat pools in my belly when his chest brushes against mine. Beneath my thin t-shirt my nipples harden, and I silently beg my body not to betray me.
I allow my eyes to slip closed, and when I think about his strong hand around my delicate throat, the heat in my belly withers away.
