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I stare. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a finger chopped off—hell, it’s practically par for the course. But it’s the first time I’ve seen it in such detail.
Freddie’s anguished cries fill the kitchen, and it makes me shrink back like I think I can make myself vanish from the room. I know I can’t; I know it’s stupid to think they’ll forget about me. No, those hungry eyes from Saint make it really fucking clear they haven’t forgotten about me at all.
“Get the kitchen cleaned up,” Angelo tells Freddie, flicking the piece of finger across the countertop. “I don’t want to see one drop of blood in the kitchen, or I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue.”
Sobbing, Freddie grabs a hand towel and presses it to the finger. It’s gushing blood, but none of the other men in the kitchen seem to give a damn.
“Santino, grab the cameras and meet us in the basement. Angelo...” Victor motions at me.
Angelo nods and stalks in my direction. I try to dart away, but his stride is so much longer than mine. He’s got me slung over his shoulder in five seconds flat, exactly like that first day.
Unlike the first day, my arms aren’t bound this time. I slam my fists against his back over and over. “Let go of me, you fucking bastard!”
It’s like I’m pounding against stone, and it hurts my hands more than I know it’s hurting him. I don’t stop, though. I lean down, trying to bite whatever parts of him I can reach. But I can’t get my teeth around his muscled back, and Angelo only laughs.
I’m in a panic about the fact that they’re taking me back to the basement—with cameras. The last time I was in there, I’d woken up with my clothes ripped and left open. What will they do with me now that they’re actively pissed at me?
I’m not dumb enough to think I can fight off three grown men, especially when just one of them can toss me around like a ragdoll. “Let me go!” I demand, but even I can hear that I sound just like Freddie: my voice trembles, slightly ragged, out of fear.
“Oh, no, Princess. I’m not letting you go just yet. We have plans for you.”
With those ominous words, he heads back down into the basement with me unable to do anything but pound uselessly at his back.
8
Lucia
Angelo practically throws me down on the shitty mattress in the basement, and I land with a groan. I stare up at him, wishing I was portraying utter hatred instead of fear—but I know what’s really showing, because I know what I’m really feeling. I don’t know what these three have in store for me, but it’s not good.
Saint follows Angelo after only a moment, juggling cameras in his arms.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of them.
“You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret,” I warn them, not wanting to beg even as holy fuck, I want to do anything I have to to keep them away from me—them, and their fucking cameras.
Victor appears in the door only moments later, and he closes it behind him. With the three men in the room, it’s crowded; they’re not exactly small, and I feel tiny in comparison. I’m dressed only in the shirt Saint had lent me as well as my unbuttoned and unzipped pants. At least they hadn’t been around my ankles when they’d caught me.
Angelo gets down on his haunches and grabs my chin. “What are we going to regret? Sending you back with a sloppy cunt? Seems like you already have one. Nothing pure or virginal about you.”
I try to slap his hand away, but his grip is strong. Not a surprise, considering how well defined his muscles are. I hate how attractive I find him, even while my body trembles in fear.
“I never said I was a virgin.”
He slaps me hard. For a second everything is white and my ears ring. I know how violent he is, but I somehow still can’t believe that he would hit me.
Victor snorts in laughter. “She isn’t wrong. You let your imagination get the better of you.”
“You both bought her sweet and innocent act too!” Angelo glares at them. I follow his gaze and see that Saint has finished setting up one of the cameras. It’s pointing directly at me.
“I don’t mind if she isn’t a virgin,” Saint says, “But if I’d known, I wouldn’t have held back.”
Victor’s expression is still as cold as ice. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and that’s even more worrisome than Angelo’s obvious anger. “You’re right,” Victor says, taking a few steps closer. I try to scramble away, but there’s nowhere to go. I press my back against the wall as if it could possibly offer protection.
“It was remiss of me not to consider that possibility. And youshouldget a reward, Santino. In fact, I think we could reward all the men. They’ve been working hard. Since Lucia here is free with her body, I don’t think it’ll make a difference if she fucks one or twenty people tonight.”
I canfeelthe color leave my face. “I’m not that free with my body,” I say quickly. “I’ve had sex. That doesn’t make me a slut.” All right, so maybe I am, but I’m not going to share that with them. Besides, I’m sure they fuck their way around the city and there’s nothing wrong with that, so I’m not going to let them shame me because of my sexuality. I’m not going to let them use me as arewardeither though. I will bite and kick and fight with everything I have. “My father would fucking kill you if you let them gangbang me.”
Victor shakes his head at me. “You keep invoking your father. But he hasn’t responded to my message yet. I think he doesn’t actually care about you, Lucia. Which means… Well, you don’t have much value anymore, do you?”
