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“She’s a child, only seventeen,” my grandfather roars.
“Nonno,” I sob. “Help me.”
“She has to pay our debt,” my father demands.
Mr. Greco’s fist comes flying at me, then I’m grabbed by Alessandro. I start to fight with all my strength, screaming and sobbing for them to let me go.
Shooting upright, arms lock around me. My body is inundated with panic and fear, and I slap at a solid chest as I struggle to get free.
“Rosalie!” Viktor’s voice yanks me back to reality so fast that my body jerks.
Desperately, I gasp for air as the remnants of the nightmare shudder through me.
Another gasp, then I crumble like a house of cards.
“Christ,” Viktor snaps harshly. His arms tighten around me, and he engulfs me. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Broken cries spill from me, my tears falling between my cheek and his chest.
It felt so real.
“Viktor,” I whimper, unable to carry the trauma by myself.
My family were sex traffickers. Because of them, I’ve been through hell. I’ve been beaten and violated, and I can’t handle it.
“I’m here, baby. Talk to me.”
In the safety of his arms, I force my humiliation over my lips, “T-the one g-guard t-t-touched me.”
There’s a dangerous tone to Viktor’s voice as he asks, “What do you mean he touched you?”
I hunch my shoulders and cower against his solid chest, then whisper, “Between my legs.”
The air shifts as Viktor tenses, then it starts to feel as if every particle in the room is vibrating from the rage coming off him.
“Which guard?” he grits the words out through clenched teeth.
I shake my head. “You already killed him.”
“Blyad',” he curses.
I swallow hard and attempt to squash the emotions deep down, but I can’t, and they spill from me in the form of sobs.
“Shh…” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”
My voice is broken and hoarse as I whisper, “I’m sorry you’re not the only man who’s touched me.”
“Jesus, Rosalie. Don’t fucking apologize, baby.” He pushes me back and frames my face. Leaning down, he locks eyes with me. “None of this was your fault. Do you understand me?”
I nod in his hold, tears still spilling down my cheeks. My voice is small as I ask, “You’re not disgusted with me?”
It looks like he’s in physical pain, his eyebrows drawing together. “Why would you think that?”
“B-because…” I shake my head and try to pull away.
Viktor tightens his hold on me. “Why?”
I lower my eyes to his chest. “I’m disgusted with myself.” Intense shame threatens to overpower me. “And I’m disgusted with my family.”
