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Chapter 19
Astrid
When I wake up again, I’m not home in my bed or even in my doom room. It takes a few minutes for me to realize that the rhythmic pounding I hear is in my head and not coming from the music. Little by little, I recognize my surroundings—the long bar and the leather overstuffed chairs. It’s the foreman’s office, and I can see the ring on the opposite side of the two-way glass. But I’m on the wrong side. I try to lift my head, but it falls onto something hard. I’m lying on top of the bar, and people are surrounding me. I try to move again, but I feel like I’ve been dipped in glue.
I try to roll over onto my side and get up, but it’s impossible when my body feels like it has no bones. My mind is shouting inside my head to get the fuck up and run. My mental sirens are swirling and screeching, and I want to obey, but I can’t even stand.
Gradually, my eyelids open, but my eyes won’t focus. Justin is hovering over me, but why is he grinning like that? I try to form words to ask him but can’t as I feel two heavy hands groping my legs.
The hands travel up my thighs and push them apart.
Oh my God, where did Justin go? Is that his dad? Clenching my teeth, I demand my body to move and push Ted Leister’s hand off my pussy. I dig my nails into his flesh, and the sick bastard laughs.
“Oh, she’s a fighter,” He looks at someone behind his shoulder. “I don’t like it when they just lie there. You know who her daddy is?” He laughs at something said. “No, her real one. Elliot Howland, the prick of Rockingham.”
Blondie leans over his shoulder. “I knew she’d give you a fight when I saw her waiting in line. Should I undress her?” Blondie looks away for a second. “Don’t worry, the door is locked.”
Ted Leister pushes his hands under the hem of my shorts and gropes my ass. He pauses to bark at Blondie, “Let them knock, girl. Get over here and unzip my pants.”
I try again to get away. I feel like I’m putting up a fight, but I’m not going anywhere. I start panting, and I feel sick again. I have to stop, or I might pass out. I keep my grip on his wrists, keeping them back. But he’s stronger than I am and wrenches out of my grip.
I feel a sting at my face and taste something metallic in my mouth. The sliver of my brain that’s still conscious tells me that he just slapped me. Hard.
Fuck, my head is pounding from the pain. I can’t pass out. My vision turns blurry, and something warm runs down my face.
“Oh, the baby’s crying,” says Blondie in a singsong, “Look at those big sloppy tears. I knew she wasn’t tough. No bitch from Stonehaven can beat a Weymouth girl.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Ted snaps at her, and Blondie jumps. “And get my dick out of my pants.” He sneers at me. “Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s going to make you feel better.”
Blondie complies, unzipping Ted’s pants to let his cock out. I can smell him. And even in my fucked-up state, I know he’s not wearing a condom. He looks down at me, letting me come to the same conclusion that he’s already arrived at.
He’s going to rape me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Tears run down my face as I force a shriek from my lips—angry at my own helplessness. I hear a loud bang. Someone must’ve heard. I watch through hazy tears as Ted falls away. Somewhere, Blondie screams.
A person swims into view and looks down on me. The frightened expression on his familiar face as he looks down terrifies me. My vision is turning dark, but all I know is that he’s here to save me.
“Wyatt?” I whisper.
“No.” Pierce shakes his head as he scoops me up in his arms, his voice a million miles away. “It’s me. We’re leaving.”
