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My vision takes a while to clear, and then I must adapt to the darkness around me.
I’m outside, in a construction site of some sort—abandoned by the smell of it, though it could just be deserted because it’s night, or the holiday weekend. Some squatters might have camped here and chosen the spot where I've been dumped as their urinal.
“Help!” I call out.
My voice echoes in the silent and darkness around me.
Only after the word crosses my lips do I realize I’m entirely naked now. The robe is gone.
Oh god.Even if I somehow succeed in calling someone, there’s a chance whoever comes might not choose to assist me.
Fuck.
“Do you think your would-be savior is more likely to bring you to safety or to pin you down and fuck you raw?” an amused voice asks.
I didn’t see him sitting in the shadows, but now I feel his eyes on me.
I get to my feet, feeling shaky, and weak, and sore.“What do you want?” I murmur.
His response is immediate, unadorned. “Revenge.”
Revenge? What have I ever done to him? He’s the one who came after me. Toni kicked his ass, but that's hardly good enough a reason for kidnapping me and dragging me here.“Do you want sex, is that it?”
I ignore the cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know that’s not it, or at least not only it. He wants tohurtme; I can feel it. Maybe even kill me. This is a murder site if I’ve ever seen one.
I wonder what they’ll say to Willow. To my friends. Will I just be gone, like Lola? One more unexplained disappearance, a statistic?
I try to contain my rising panic.
“I’ll do it. I’ll let you do what you want to me,” I plead.
I’ve had I don’t know how many cocks inside me today. What’s one more? Especially in the name of survival. The rush of need and anticipation is completely absent, replaced by the urge to retch, but I’ll do it. I’d fuck him all night until he passes out to get away.
I suspect he doesn’t plan on me escaping. He kidnapped me, and I've seen his face. I know who he is. This only ends one way.
"Letme, she says." He chuckles and my blood turns to ice. “You will not let me. You'll fight while I cut you. I will fuck you with whatever I find lying around—a saw, a knife, a hammer, I don’t care. And I’ll piss on you when you beg me to stop.”
He’s sick, sick, sick.
And to think I used to think Camden has a problem.
“All of that because I didn’t come along willingly when you tried to kidnap me?”
The thug seems surprised. “He didn’t tell you?"
I have no idea what he's talking about.
"See, your boyfriend doesn't like when others touch his toy. He wanted to make a point," he sneers. "So, he cut me open. He carved his name on my chest. He pissed down my throat and broke my ribs on both sides. And helikedit."
I can see it. I can absolutely imagine Camden do all that and more to the guy who bruised my ribs, kicking me on the pavement.
"He liked it so much he wanked himself in front of me and came all over my face." That does make me gasp. "He’s a sick piece of shit. He thinks the wolf will protect him; he’s wrong.”
I’d like to lie to myself, pretend the man I know isn’t capable of all that, but the protest dies in my throat.
Of course, he would. Of course, hedid. There was always a darkness around Camden Hunt. With me, he keeps it leashed, straddling the line between hurting me and keeping me whole. But someone he doesn’t care for? Someone he sees as an enemy? He’d have no empathy towards them.
“You have the wrong target. Camden isn’t going to care if something happens to me,” I say to protect myself.
