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No, I wanted to see them again. Even in this moment of terror and fear, I wanted to see them all again, to apologize for this whole mess.
I never should have left the lodge. Left them.
I choked on my whimper as he undid his belt, his elbow digging into my side as he shifted his weight.
I wanted to fight him off, to somehow scramble out from under him, but I knew one wrong move would have me choking on my own blood.
I was strong. I’d survived Callum, I’d survived this long in life.
I could survive this.
I had to see them again.
A chill swept through me as he prodded me, and I prayed he wasn’t infected with some goddamn STD of some kind.
As if that was the main concern right now.
I whimpered and winced, the tears streaking down my cheeks as he forced himself upon me, moaning and chuckling darkly as he entered me. My body wasn’t prepared, and it protested, tight and dry, his dick painful.
“Fuck, it is a special thing,” he hissed, the blade digging deeper into my throat as he moved against me.
Each thrust was wrought with pain, my insides tearing at the assault, but I bit my lip, not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing me sob and break beneath him.
“I bet you’re secretly enjoying this, aren’t you, you little slut?” his voice hitched as he drove harder and deeper into me.
I wanted to turn the blade on him, drive it into his throat or gouge out his damn eye. Slice that wretched smirk off his face.
His smirk faltered as I didn’t budge, just glared at him like he was the absolute shittiest filth of this world. Sure, tears were gliding down my cheeks, there was no way I could stop them with the pain I was now enduring, but I wouldn’t let him see my fear and distress any other way.
“Fuck, roll over, I can’t finish like this,” he snapped, his mouth twisted into a scowl as he forced me to roll.
I embraced the reprieve of him inside my body for the few moments as he harshly changed our positions, the blade leaving my throat momentarily.
Now was my chance, I had to do something. I had to think, to get out of this mess.
Vincent cried out as his head slammed down into my shoulder blades, still midway through getting himself into position while I was on my stomach.
“Fuck, Veronica.”
I gasped, the familiar voice a welcome comfort as I struggled for breath, Vincent’s body weighing down on me, his now limp dick pressed into my ass.
I drew in a ragged breath as he was dragged off me, and I pulled myself into a sitting position, wincing as I pulled my pants up.
“I’m so sorry.” Thomas knelt down before me, one hand touching my arm. I instinctively pulled away, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry, thank you,” I mumbled as I pulled my legs up before me, the pain slicing through me and making me grimace. I let my gaze move to where Vincent lay on the floor, knocked out cold. But the slight rise and fall of his shoulders informed me he was still alive.
My stomach knotted at the sight, and my brows knitted together as I looked at Thomas uneasily.
“I had to stop him. I couldn’t…” Thomas swallowed as he stared at Vincent like his whole world was being torn in two.
I eyed the metal pipe he still brandished, although his arm was trembling.
“You saved me, thank you,” I whispered, managing the faintest of smiles.
“At what cost?” His voice was almost inaudible as he sunk back on heels, running his other hand down his face as he let out a heavy sigh.
“What now?” I dared to ask. A part of me wanted to fall apart, but now was not the time. I had to keep it together. I was alive, and that was all that mattered.
