Page 17 of Beautiful Scars

Call for help.

Tracker.

She knows where I am.

Help—

Cillian whips the purse from my hand with a flick of his fingers. Lipstick and credit cards scatter on the bed. He twists aside and opens the nightstand drawer, then lifts a condom packet into the air.

He drawls, “Open wide for Daddy,” in his thick accent as he brings it to my mouth.

My lips part without instruction from my brain.

My heart should be pounding, but I can barely feel it in my chest. What I do feel is Cillian’s heavy body crushing mine and, when he leans forward to shove the condom packet between my lips, his hard-on pressing against my inner thigh.

Tears leak from my eyes. Somehow, I still have feeling in my face. My cheeks, my throat. That’s how I know his hand is around my neck, slowly tightening.

Cold jade eyes settle on me. A rush floods me, and I feel like I did step off into the night out there.

Falling.

Drowning.

In those pond-green eyes.

There’s something in his hand. Pink. Rectangular. Glittery.

My phone.

He slaps my cheek, hard, a wicked grin putting a cruel light in his eyes.

“Smile pretty for me, princess.”