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I wrap my arms around my legs as I lay on the floor, letting the cold tiles press against my side. The smell of lavender bubble bath is now replaced with sweat and salt, a reminder of him and the filth on my skin.

I won't survive this. Before, I thought I could, when it was just his hands. When it was just one time, I stood on the ledge and convinced myself I could do this, that I could let him take my body and I'd be okay, because it would get me one step closer to Rosa. I didn't think about the moment when it would happen, how it would feel when he'd tear me apart to fit himself inside me. I won't survive this. I don't know how people do.

I should have stepped off the ledge. I should have ended my pain before it ever truly began.

He turns with a scowl, somehow looking taller as he towers above me. "So pathetic. Wipe your fucking tears and be grateful for the fucking I just gave you."

I don't look up. I don't say a word.

His foot connects with my stomach with a swift kick that knocks the wind from my lungs. "I said, stop fucking crying. They always cry. Why, when it feels so fucking good?"

He zips up his trousers and I still say nothing. There are no words. I don't think there ever will be. Maybe he expects me to scream, to fight him, but I can't.

There's no fight left.

"Be ready in an hour. Pick a dress from the wardrobe. We're going out." He crouches to his knees. "And Amora, sort your fucking face. Your tears don't work on me. If anything, you're making my cock harder. So unless," he pauses, running his thumb over my bottom lip, "you want me to fuck this pretty mouth until your tears are from swallowing me whole, I suggest you stop acting so pathetic and fucking move. You should be grateful. Look at your life now. Before, you were living in a shit hole flat. Now you're in a grand manor, a room that belongs just to you, and have a man who worships you." His hand grips against my arm, dragging me to my feet. I turn away, not wanting to look at his face.

"Say thank you," he spits.

He waits, a smirk spreading across his face, his hands moving to my chin as he pulls me to face him. His eyes stare into mine, watching and waiting.

"Thank you…" I whisper.

"Good girl." He closes the distance between us, his mouth finding mine as he leaves a gentle peck against my lips. He pushes me away, and I stumble against the sink, my hands covering my breasts as I quickly grab the hand towel from the railing. It's tiny, nowhere near close to covering anything, but it feels better than being fully exposed.

"You'll never run from me again, Amora. Because I will find you, and next time, it won't just be my cock deep inside you—it'll be my blade, too. I'll fuck you till you bleed, fill your mouth with my cock until you choke. You're mine, Amora. Mine. It's time to start acting like it."

I nod slowly. His threats once terrified me, but now they're no longer a threat; they're a promise of what's to come next if I continue to fight. Every part of me is broken, my mind splintered, and the girl who would once spit back that he could go to hell is trapped in the darkest corners. I can't reach her, but I want to. I desperately want to.

"But..." His words are almost lyrical. "If you can behave, show me that you want me, too. To not fight me, this, us. I could be persuaded to have Jarrod search for your beloved sister."

Another lie that sinks in deep. I don't know if I'm so messed up in the head that I believe it, or if this is his way of forcing compliance. I just don't know.

"Really?" The word sounds like a joke, even to me.

"I don't break a promise, Amora. I'm a man of my word." He straightens his tie, moving to the bathroom door. "One hour. I'll be waiting." The door closes behind him as I sink down the bathroom wall and wait for the sobs to come, but they never do. Everything inside me feels hollow, numb. Almost like what happened in this room had never happened to me at all, almost like it was someone else.

I let the silence settle thick and heavy, the coolness of the tub anchoring me into something that feels even remotely safe. He's gone. With him is a part of me I'll never get back. I close my eyes and wait for the voices in my head to take control, to tell me everything I already know, but they don't. Instead, they leave me to drown in the darkness, all alone, with nowhere to go.

I want to run, to sprint out of the doors and never look back, but I realise there's nowhere left to go. Nowhere he won't find me. Not a single place that his touch isn't stained on my skin. Not in the manor, not even in the splintered hell that is my mind.

Every thought consumes me, every part of my body numb but alive with the feel of his touch crawling over my skin. Every part of my soul is as black as the cloud that sits heavy in my chest, raining down on my lungs so hard, I can't catch my breath.

I won't survive this. I don't know how.

Ace was wrong.

Death would have been better than what just happened in this bathroom.

I'm trying, Rosa. I'm trying so hard to hold on, but I don't know how much more I can endure.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amora

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock on the wall is driving me crazy, but I can't move. I stay sat on the edge of the bed, wearing a dress which barely covers my tits, but funnily enough, is the least revealing outfit hung in the wardrobe. I take a breath, pain shooting through my lungs, and keep my eyes fixed on the small crack in the plaster on the wall.