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I narrow my eyes and bear down on her. At least she isn’t cowering from me. If anything, she’s scared of her father and his guards. I squat in front of her, my borrowed uniform cutting into my legs. “Watch the fucking attitude. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way after I saved your fucking life. Even though you didn’t deserve it.”
She blinks at me, eyes wide. “So we’re back to that? Are you going to punish me too? You don’t think I’ve been through enough?”
I snap out my hand and grab her chin hard, then pull her face toward me, her head skimming the bottom of the dress shirts she cowers under. “I’ll say when it’s enough. Until then, you’ll listen to what I say and do it without question.”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything or pull away.
I lean forward until our lips almost touch and whisper, “Good girl. Now, let me see if you have a tracker, so we can get some undisturbed rest.”
She scrambles to her feet, more desperate than I am to check her over. We head into the kitchen, and I grab the RFID scanner from the drawer used for this purpose. I scan her body head to toe, and the scanner blips on the soft undercurve of her right tit.
“Fuck,” she breathes.
I kneel and shove the oversized white T-shirt up into her hands so she can hold it. There’s a tiny scar on the bottom of her full breast. She wouldn’t even notice it as she likely can’t see it from her angle. “I have to cut it out.”
Gently, I cup her soft flesh, focusing on my task, despite my raging hard-on. There’s a tiny lump right under the skin. It’ll sting to remove but it shouldn’t be too bad. There are worse places to find something like this.
I stand, grabbing the first-aid kit and a sharp knife.
She sits at the table while I lay out the supplies. “Just do it quickly.”
I kneel beside the chair, my face almost even with the small lump. “This is going to sting. You going to pass out on me?”
Her look of annoyance is enough to urge me on. I quickly make a shallow cut and use a pair of tweezers to remove the tiny tracker. It’s tiny, smaller than I’ve ever seen. I bandage the cut and then flush the tracker down the toilet while she hopefully puts clothes between her bare skin and mine. Another second, and I might not be able to control what happens.
15
CILLA
They put something inside me. I never knew it was there. How did I not know? Not feel it under my skin, lurking like a time bomb waiting to sink me. I tug my shirt to cover my borrowed boxer briefs and bare skin. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. It’s as if they bubble up inside me from the never-ending well of anger, fear, and betrayal.
What did I do to deserve this life? I’m sobbing, the sounds loud and jagged to my ears. A tiny voice tells me to pull myself together, to suck it up because I’m not safe yet. It doesn’t matter. I’m in no shape to listen to anyone at the moment. I can barely stand upright, my thoughts messy as I lean my side against the counter.
A hand grabs my chin, and I strike out without thinking of knocking the grasp away. I can’t see through my tears, only his dark shape. Rationally, I know it’s Ivan, but the thought of letting anyone touch me right now sickens me. My stomach roils, threatening to throw up nothing but bile.
The grip on my chin doesn’t loosen, and I blink against the blur of the tears and glare up at him. “Let me go.”
He kneels in one smooth move even though his body has to be more battered than mine, having been chained to a wall for several days. “Watch the way you speak to me, Malyshka. You’d hate it if I decide you’re not worth keeping alive.”
I stiffen and continue glaring. “So you’re just like the rest of them, then? Considering me nothing more than an easy distraction? A means to an end? Something to be tossed out with the trash.” I swipe at my eyes and nose. “Good to know.”
His hold tightens enough to make me try to pull back from him. But he won’t let me go that easily. His arm comes around my waist, and he hauls me into his arms in one strike, standing as he does so. I bring my hands up to claw at him and force him to let me go. Force him to see me as a person, even if it’s the moment before I die.
I don’t realize we’re moving until we’ve reached the bedroom, and we fall onto the bed, with me underneath him. His weight presses me deep, covering every inch possible with his heavy form. “Stop fucking fighting me, Priscilla. I’m not the kind to give in easily, and the more you fight, the more I’ll make it hurt as I force you to work for it. Fucking stop it.”
