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"I don’t want to."
"I don’t care," he repeated, smiling down at me.
"Please," I begged now. "Don’t."
"Don’t you see yet?" He laughed cruelly when my attempt to push him away failed miserably. "You have no control here. You do what you're told, when you're told, like the good little whore you're being trained to be."
I whimpered, feeling my bravery slip. "I'm not a whore."
"You are a whore, and I am a prince," he corrected. "You're living in my castle now, baby whore, and your daddy isn’t coming back from the grave to save you."
"You're all criminals," I spat, shaking. "And the only thing that you and your brothers are princes of is wickedness."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he chuckled. "Like you're not cut from the same cloth of corruption." Narrowing his eyes, he hissed, "Your father was as bad as mine, if not worse."
I didn’t deny it – couldn’t if I wanted.
"I'm royalty around here, baby whore," he continued. "I'm the apex predator and you are whatever the fuck I say you are. If you were born a boy, your father's name would make you my equal, but you're completely worthless. An heiress whore. All of your father's inheritance; the property, the land, the business, it will go to whichever one of my brothers that claims you on your initiation, and you can't do shit to stop it from happening –"
His words twisted into a snarl when I ducked under his arm and bolted for the door.
"You can't run from us," he snarled, fisting my hair and dragging me back to him. "And there's nowhere to hide." Wrapping an unyielding arm around my small body, he carted me back to the bed. "We own you, Ashton Northwood. Your father gave you to us," he sneered, tossing me down on my bed and reaching for my jeans. "One of us. All of us." He grinned darkly. "At the same time."
"Don't touch me," I cried out, scratching and pushing on his chest as he roughly dragged my jeans down my legs. "Please!"
"I love it when the whores beg," he growled hungrily. "Beg, baby whore." He hooked his long fingers into the waistband of my cotton panties and dragged them down, too. "Cry for me –"
Choking and spluttering, Vasily's words faded on his tongue and his hungered expression morphed into one of panic, the whites of his eyes turning bloodshot, as he released his hold on my panties and frantically clawed at his neck.
Trembling from head to toe, I watched as his big body started to slump.
Only when Vasily was on his knees on my bedroom floor did I notice the huge, dark-haired, foreign boy looming behind him, holding a piece of cord to his throat.
My breath escaped me in a sudden rush as I watched Fabio's bastard son strangle his half-brother into a state of semi-conscious submission.
"Te gusta follar bebés?" he asked in a deathly cold tone of voice, not relenting his tightly fisted grip on the cord wrapped around his brother's neck. "Eres un bastardo enfermo!"
"Trigger," Jethro began to say in a nervous tone, taking a step into the room. "I – uh… maybe you shouldn't…" He swallowed deeply, hands fluttering at his sides. "I think you're killing him…"
"Silencio, príncipe bebé!” Trigger commanded, and even though I didn’t know what he was saying, I could hear the warning in his voice.
Jethro did, too, because he swiftly snapped his mouth shut.
"Voy a enseñarle una lección a tu hermano," the black-haired boy growled, releasing his grip before reaching a hand behind his back. "Corre a lo largo si tienes miedo."
Withdrawing a jagged edged dagger, the bastard prince tilted his head to one side and stared down at his brother gasping for air on his hands and knees.
At thirteen, the bastard was younger than his pure-blood brother but no one would have guessed it from the way he physically overpowered Vasily with ease.
"Si no te gusta la vista de la sangre, debes irte ahora," he said with a glint of madness shining in his dark eyes, and my heart roared to life at the sight, heat flushing to my cheeks.
Ripping at his jeans, he managed to strip his older brother down to his boxer shorts.
"Don't, don’t, don’t," Vasily cried out, curling up on the floor when Trigger fisted his penis and lowered the blade. "Please…God…Jesus, don’t do this to me!"
"Ordando a Dios no te salvará," Trigger replied, voice deathly calm. "Mi madre también oró a Dios." Taking a knee, he pulled on Vasily's private parts so hard that he screamed out loudly. "Qué le dijiste a ella?" He tightened his grip. "Qué le dijiste a mi madre cuando rogaba misericordia?"
"I don’t understand what you're saying…Oh god, I can't…Jethro, get help!" Crying out, Vasily pressed his palms together and started to cry. "Don’t hurt me, brother."
