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“Something feels off,” Cal states, voicing my own concerns.
“Yeah,” Owen agrees.
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Cal turns to face him while I watch the exchange from the back seat of the SUV.
“No. I think there’s more to it than we realize.” They stare at one another in a silent exchange, and not for the first time tonight, I realize I’m missing a big part of whatever is happening.
“Any word about Thalia?” I ask.
Owen meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “It won’t be long,” he voices with a confidence I don’t feel.
Cal slices through my thoughts with his next words. “Thirty seconds.”
I glance down at the letters tattooed on my fingers: H-E-A-R-T B-R-O-K-E. I had them done the day I thought I’d never see her again, the day she missed my birthday.
As I stare at my fingers and count down in my head, I can only hope I never feel the way I felt the day I got them.
Brutally devasted.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
TIA
Viggo thrusts his hips back and forth, over and over. Then he pulls out, and his palm meets my face. The sting from previous hits multiplies, and I stumble into the wall, struggling to stay upright.
His familiar heavy chuckle echoes off the walls, and I know there’s more to come. He enjoys toying with me; he always has.
His shaved head is still the same, his gold tooth makes him all the more villainous, and the gold rings on his fingers glisten in the low lighting streaming in from the sole window.
“Lick my boots,” his dark voice booms, and I tremble. The way he sneers down at me heightens my terror. “Say, yes, sir.”
Before I can even contemplate moving, his hand goes to the back of my head and I’m thrown face down onto the floor. With my hands tied behind my back, I’m unable to break my fall. My chin hits the concrete, and a metallic taste fills my mouth.A strong surge of pain into my skull forces my eyes closed as I sniffle to keep the tears from falling. “Y-y-y... yes, sir.”
“Lick.” His voice is low and calculated, but I move in a flash, remembering how he once kicked me in the face and knocked out the last of my baby teeth.
My tongue darts out, and I lick over the tip of his boot, grateful for the copper filling my tastebuds.
The sound of him fisting his cock above me threatens to spill the meager contents of my stomach, but I ignore it. Instead, I please him, making a show of dragging my tongue over his dirty work boots.
“Yes. Yes. You’re doing good on the floor for me. Where you belong.”
He bends, grabs me by the hair, then surges his putrid cock into my mouth, making me gag as he plunges as far down as possible. He thrusts his hips over and over, and my jaw hurts from his cruelty. My mind tries to wander, to protect me from the here and now. I imagine the guys and our babies together, enjoying the little tea party Harper recently insisted on them attending. My heart pangs as I scramble to hold onto the memory to give me the strength to see this through.
Then he withdraws his cock with a heavy grunt, and warmth splashes onto my face along with his putrid scent, then a part of me crumbles inside. He’s done it again, taken that piece from me I tried so hard to rebuild. He’s made me feel insignificant, filthy, like I’m nothing but something to use.
His action wasn’t done through love or devotion. It was done with pure evil intent for his own gratification. I want nothing more than to vomit on his boots, but I know how that goes, and I don’t want Harper to see me hurt when I finally have her back in my arms. A lone tear trickles down my face, and I try to push thoughts of her to the back of my mind. She’s no place inmy thoughts while I’m in somewhere like this—somewhere cold, dark, and dirty—a place used for the pleasure of monsters.
My little girl should be tucked up in bed, in her princess room, with her sister asleep in her crib next to her. My heart wrenches, and I can’t help the sob that catches in my throat when Viggo wipes his cock down my cheek. The hand in my hair unclenches, and I sag at the release of pressure on my throbbing head.
His calloused fingers run down my face with a tenderness I know to be feigned; the man is a glorified sadist who doesn’t care how he receives his pleasure. “There, there, don’t cry, little one.” I shudder at the words he whispers, the same words that haunted my dreams as a child and forced me to seek sanctuary in Jace’s loving arms. He’d chase away the monsters hiding in the corners of my foster father’s basement with the simple beat of his heart against my ear.
“You grew into a beautiful woman.” He tucks himself into his pants, and I avert my eyes, knowing he can turn at any second.
It keeps me from seeing his fist coming, but my ears ring as my head snaps to the side, and I fall to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Filthy little whore.” He spits onto my face as he looms above me. “I’m going to tear your cunt apart.” He chuckles to himself while I squeeze my eyes closed and give myself over to the hazy sensation filling my head.
