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“Nothing is wrong,” I snap when he releases my mouth slightly. I keep my head up, staring at his eyes as he glares back at mine in challenge. “Let me go.”
He slams me up against the wall again, the knife still pressed against my neck and his knee coming between my legs. He presses his leg against my clit, and my eyes close, but the knife running down my collarbone sets off electrical currents that have my senses working on overtime. I’m so fucked with Bishop. How can we be so attracted to each other—unwillingly—but hate each other all the same? My eyes pop open when he slices the middle of my strapless crop top, my nipples aching as the cool night air licks over them, igniting them to life. Focus, Madison. Focus.
“Stop fucking lying to me, Madison!” Bishop yells, getting more up in my face. Bringing both arms to either side of my head, he cages me in. “Why. The fuck. Did me questioning your past today trigger something with you? Hmm?” he asks, grinding his thickness against my tummy.
Fight it.
“It didn’t.”
“Tell me the truth, Madison.”
Lie.
“It triggered nothing.”
Bishop brings the knife back down and runs the blunt side of it over my nipple. I suck in a breath and hold. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. My body’s will to breathe wins and I exhale just as the blade comes down to my jeans. He cuts the waistband to my fishnets, and it springs loose, hanging over the top of my jeans.
“One more time, Madison, or I’m going to fuck you with this knife and lick your blood clean off as you watch.”
I close my eyes. “Not—”
He launches his fist into the wall beside my face. I’ve never seen Bishop so out of control, and I don’t know why it’s my reaction to my past that has set him off—but it has. Set. Him. Off. “Stop fucking lying!”
Clenching my eyes closed, I take in a few deep breaths. Don’t walk down that aisle. Don’t do it… don—
Walking down the blood-red hall, Madison squeezed the man’s hand. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see, Silver. You’ll see.”
“Will there be any other kids there to play with?”
The man looked down to Madison and grinned. “You’ll see.”
“No!” I rock back and forth on the concrete in front of the door, cradling my knees up to my chest. Tears pour down my cheeks and sweat beads my skin regardless of the fact I’m sitting in the brisk cool night with absolutely no shirt on. “No, no, no…” Shaking my head, I can still hear his voice in the back of my consciousness. “It’s just a dream. It’s just a bad dream. He won’t come back,” I repeat, rocking back and forth and fisting my hair.
“Madison, Madison! Fuck!”
Whose voice is that?
“No!” I shake my head again, lost in my dark abyss of bleeding memories. “He always comes back.”
“Madison!” another voice roars in the background. A different voice.
“Come back, baby.”
I know that voice.
My eyes spring open, a blood-curdling scream ripping out of my chest. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Consciousness starts to seep in, and I look up to see Bishop, Nate, Hunter, Brantley, Cash, Eli, and Chase circling me. I cover my front right away, and Bishop rips off his hoodie, pushing it over my head before tucking his arms under my legs and lifting me off the ground. I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his spicy, sweet scent.
“What, what did I say?” I murmur through sobs.
“You said enough for us to know enough.” Bishop’s jaw tenses as he looks directly at Nate, who still hasn’t looked at me.
“Nate?” I whisper, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. His eyes stay locked on Bishop’s. A wave of humiliation washes over me. Is he ashamed of me? That this happened to me? Does he look at me differently now? All my worst fears come crashing into my chest like a freight train. I’m dirty. No one can love something or someone who has been through what I have. His knowing what I’ve been through has now tainted what he thought of me; I just know it. My heart snaps in my chest and my throat swells as tears start to pour down my cheeks again.
“Take her home,” Nate replies emotionlessly.
“Nate?” I try again through a broken throat. “Talk to me.”
He doesn’t move, keeping his eyes on Bishop. “Take her home.”
Bishop’s grip tightens around me. “We’ll talk about this later,” he warns Nate.
I don’t see Nate’s reaction, because I’ve buried my head into the crook of Bishop’s neck, his pulse pounding against my nose. Putting me in the passenger seat, Bishop shuts the door and then comes to his side, sliding in and firing up his Maserati.
“Madi, we don’t have to talk about anything right now, but eventually, I want to know 100 percent of what happened and everything in between—okay?”
