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He’s hovering close enough that I can sense his spreading grin. “What’s the matter? Anything on your mind?”
On mute, I shake my head.
He chuckles. “Shy all of a sudden? You weren’t so shy that night. You sure made a lot of noise. Those grunts and groans of yours. You were enjoying yourself, weren’t you?”
My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. The rest of me can’t sit still, shaking in my chair. I’m unable to do anything except sink deeper into my trauma, replaying that night over and over in my head, tears wetting my eyes.
The worst part is that there’s no escape. My wrists are bound, and I’m being held here against my will.
He’s enjoying this. Just like he enjoyed that night.
“You barely put up a fight when I came for you then,” he taunts with another laugh. His fingertips trace the curve of my cheek and I jerk away. “You were so defenseless and weak. But you’ve tried not to be now, right? You wanted to learn to defend yourself.”
I’m forced to sit there as the room fills with more of his demented laughter. Maybe the sickest, most nauseating sound I’ve ever heard.
He refuses to stop touching me. For every jerk of my body, resisting the stroke of his fingers or caress of his hand, he has ten more.
“This is only the beginning,” he whispers into my ear. “You don’t know who I am, do you? But I make sure shit around here happens. Our products get sold. You’re going to be a very fun product to sell.”
I’m at the Mill, where they package human beings and sell them for any services requested.
Brenda went through this. Many others have too. Who knows how many thousands?
The door opens, though I can’t see who walks through. My rapist stands up straight and addresses the guy, telling him he’s gotten me ready for my meeting with Volchok.
What little air exists in my lungs evaporates. Salvatore had been so certain Volchok was linked to everything that was going on. He had believed Volchok was even an integral part of the Neptune Society itself.
It seems he was correct.
“He’s coming,” says the guy from the doorway.
“Good. She’s here. He’ll have all the time he wants with her.”
My rapist walks into my line of vision, stopping at the opposite end of the table. He’s exactly as I remember him—tall, lean, his hair slicked only into a ponytail. His hands glide along the oak surface and his menacing gaze never leaves my face.
If it were up to him, he’d devour me right now.
He’d do whatever he wanted.
The next time we’re alone he probably will.
“Here he is,” he says, straightening up. He puts on a fake smile. “The man of the hour. Volchok.”
A pair of heavy-footed feet pound into the room.
I twist in my chair for a look. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the man that comes through the doorway isn’t it—he’s not Volchok.
My brain aches trying to make sense of what I’m seeing versus what I know to be true.
Lucius Mancino in the flesh. In a suit, with a devilish smirk, and a glint in his beady eyes, surveying me like I’m meat to be served up on a platter.
“Delphine Rose Adams. Precious daughter of Ernest Huxley Adams. The great love of Salvatore Jonathan Mancino. You have no idea how many years I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
* * *
My first instinct is to run. Salvatore always told me he wanted me far away from his father. He wanted him nowhere near me. He had made it clear he wanted to keep us as far apart from each other as possible due to the pure sinister nature of him.
Seeing him now sets off every fight or flight instinct inside my body.
