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Scratch that. I was already going mad. Unless there were other people in this room, hidden under the cover of darkness, whispering faintly.
I highly doubted that.
Which left one of two possibilities, either I was finally going insane—something I always thought was likely to happen someday—orthe drugs asshat kept pumping me with had fully fucked up all brain function.
Insane people don’t know they’re insane,I told myself. Right? Wasn’t that what people said?
I mean, just because people said it didn’t really mean it was true.
But it was something to…
My rambling line of thought cut off at the sound of someone coming. Ofhimcoming.
I wished I could spit fucking acid. That would be a handy talent to have right now.
A handle turned, and I braced myself against the wooden chair. Light burst into the room and with the flick of a switch, another light, brighter than the fucking sun blazed down on me, making me recoil, bending my head to protect my burning eyes from the sting.
I blinked, trying to see through the white, my eyes screaming as they adjusted.
The out of focus shape of Drake moved toward me. His fingertips brushed the broken skin on my right wrist, and I jerked, tearing more skin to try to get away from him. He tsked me, snatching my forearm above where the strap wrapped my wrist to hold my arm steady.
He bent to get a closer look at the wound.
My stomach turned at the sight, and I swallowed back bile.
It was way worse than I thought it was. Way fucking worse. I was no stranger to the sight of gore, but something aboutmy owngore always sort of grossed me out.
A little blood was nothing. A gunshot wound? Sure. A nice clean slice? Fuck, I enjoyed those.
But this? This mangled mess of bloodied, raw flesh, torn down to white bone on the ball of my wrist?
“I can fix this,” Drake said, finally releasing me. “Tighten the straps. Make sure you can’t move at all.”
So this would be how it continued between us. Moves and countermoves. I used my clothing against him so he took it away. I proved to him that even half numb and semi-conscious, I would fight him, so he strapped me down.
Now, he would make it so I couldn’t even move.
What next?
“Just kill me.”
He frowned, lifting to his full height.
“I’m not going to be thethingyou want me to be. I’d rather die. So go ahead. Get it over with. I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”
…and watch my men get sweet, sweet retribution for my death.
“No, Angel. Everyone can be broken.Everyone. You just have to know which buttons to push.”
He leaned in close.
“And I think I might have found some of yours.”
I spat in his face and his jaw ticked, but he didn’t move, remaining hunched, staring into my eyes. Would’ve been so much fucking better if it was acid.
Maybe that was how I’d kill him. Slowly disintegrate him in a giant vat of acid. The mental image made a bubble of manic joy rise in my chest and my lips twitched.
“For instance,” Drake continued. “I’ve just taken care of the first problem standing in my way.”
