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His fingers linger on the inside of my hip, right where my tattoo sits. “But you know what really surprised me, and quite frankly, what severely pissed me off?” he growls. I refuse to answer, and my silence spurs him on. “I was there you know, the day your skank friend convinced you to mark your beautiful skin with this filth,” he spits, pulling down the edge of my underwear to reveal Jax’s name. “It was the same day I stopped you on your run. Do you remember? I introduced myself, but I bet you’re too shallow to remember my name, aren’t you?”
He’s right. I can’t remember his name. Maybe I am shallow, but I honestly don’t give a fuck right now.
“That little bitch deserves to be shot for the way she talked to me,” he says. “I knew I should have just taken you then. I should have knocked the bitch out and had my way with you right there, but there were too many people, too many witnesses. They wouldn’t understand what we have.”
I scowl up at him. How could someone be so fucking deranged? I can’t hold my tongue any longer. “You’re fucking scum,” I spit at him. “Just you wait until my brothers and Jax catch up with you. You’re going to regret the day you ever saw me.”
He smiles down at me, the same way a parent would smile at a misbehaving child. “Darling, that isn’t going to happen,” he says, so sure of himself. Though I know the truth. My brothers would never let this guy get away with it, and who knows what lengths Jax would go to.
The guy takes a breath and looks around his sickening little basement. “This is special, isn’t it?” he muses as his eyes come back down to me adoringly. “Just you and me, with all the time in the world.”
“You’re fucking delusional.”
He shrugs his shoulders before pushing off the bed and getting back to his feet. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pocketknife that makes my mouth go dry. My eyes widen as I feel the blood drain from my face.
I watch as he looks down at his knife and then flicks open the switchblade. His eyes light up with excitement, and then he looks back down at me. “I think it’s time we get this show on the road.”
My breathing becomes labored as his knife lowers to my body. I didn’t expect this. I know he’s going to hurt me in the most volatile way, but the scenario where he pulls a knife on me never entered my mind, and I feel I need a few moments to mentally prepare myself. But it’s too late, I’ve run out of time.
The knife comes toward me, and I watch it with wide eyes. I try my best to squirm away, but the bounds on my hands and feet are keeping me in place, like his perfect little canvas. Tears flow down my face as I realize this could be the beginning of the end. “Hold still, baby,” he murmurs wickedly, as the blade comes in contact with my hip.
Instead of the knife plunging down into my flesh, it slips under the side of my underwear until the material is held up off my skin by nothing but the blade. Then with a quick flick of his wrist, the material slices in two and the fabric falls away, revealing my tattoo.
His deathly gaze focuses on the ink as darkness and anger cloud his features. I sense him move before he does it. “No!” I scream out as his blade comes down on me, slashing deeply through my tattoo.
I scream out in agony, instantly feeling the sharp sting as the warm blood oozes down my hip and between my legs. Sobs rip from my chest as the stinging intensifies, but he doesn’t stop there. His blade comes down again in the opposite direction, slicing through the tattoo once again to make an X.
I scream and cry out, not just in agony, but for the symbolism behind the tattoo in which he’s just taken away and destroyed.
His hand connects with my face in a harsh slap as he tries to get me to shut up, but it’s no use. I can’t stop, and I won’t. “You better shut the fuck up before I show you what else my knife can do.”
Yep, that shut me up.
I try my hardest to swallow my sobs, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see anymore. “Open your eyes,” he spits, slapping me again. “I’ve waited too long for you to not watch every fucking second of this.”
I reluctantly open my eyes to find him sitting back down on the bed, looking over my body, his gaze lingering on the bloodied tattoo. “Much better,” he muses before lifting the knife again, this time slicing the other side of my underwear, and up through the center of my bra.
