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Then he was gone.
And as sick as it was, it was worse to be alone.
There was water again, and a roll of food.
I drank because I had to, because I knew my body needed water to heal. Even if I wondered if, maybe, I didn’t want to heal, that I wanted infection to set in, a fever that spiked so high that I hallucinated, that sent me hurtling toward oblivion.
Whatever death held at the other end—heaven, hell, or absolutely nothing at all—it was better than life in Cain Roth’s dungeon.
I hurt.
But, little by little, I healed.
Even if I played at being out of it, at not being able to answer Cain when he showed up each day to see if I was ready to cave to his demands.
By day five, though, he was done with my games.
I watched his expensive boots as they came in front of me, then felt his hand close around my throat, pulling me up to my feet by it, and slamming me back into the wall.
The wounds were healing, but not healed, and the pain was like being doused in gas and lit on fire.
But his hand was cutting off my air, making it impossible to scream.
I was acutely aware of him watching me, taking in my pain, and I worked hard to try to bank down my reaction, to force myself into a mask of indifference.
“You’re more stubborn than I expected,” he said. “No sense of self-preservation,” he added as his hand lessened just enough for me to draw in a breath. It felt like swallowing glass, making me realize how hard he was holding my throat. Bruising it. “I almost admire it,” he added. “Perhaps, though, if you can’t submit to save yourself from pain, you can to save someone else,” he said, releasing me to half turn to the door, snapping his fingers.
Then there were his men, holding a wide-eyed young woman, fear raw and rolling off of her in waves.
“No!” I shrieked, understanding his threat. “No!” I screamed again, yanking away from the wall, trying to get to her.
Cain grabbed me around the waist, hauling me back against his body.
“Yes,” he said, breath warm in my ear. “You are to blame for this,” he told me.
“No,” I cried.
Cried this time.
Tears streaming down my face, sobs racking my body, knowing he felt them, not caring.
As I heard her screams.
I had to shut my eyes.
I couldn’t… I knew… but I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch.
The screams, though, fuck, the screams would taunt me until the day I died.
“All your fault,” Cain said again as I slumped to the ground, watching the men carry the limp woman away. “You could have prevented this. One more day, my dear,” he said, moving toward the door. “Or there will be another hurt in your honor.”
I made up my mind then and there.
I would do it.
I would build him what he wanted.
But I wasn’t going to do it exactly how he wanted.
The desk came in the following day, along with my supplies.
One man stood guard all day, making sure I didn’t hide any pieces of metal, try to find a way to defend myself.
Cain moved in and out, watching over my shoulder, his very presence a threat.
“Shouldn’t you be farther along, my dear?”
But I heard the words underneath.
Should I bring another girl in here to motivate you?
I worked endlessly, half blind with exhaustion, body growing thin and muscles weak.
But I built the fucking gun.
But it had a little trick hidden in its depths.
A surefire malfunction.
I just prayed it would hold out enough for testing.
To be convincing enough to make him let me go.
It was the eve of that test when my door creaked open, startling me from sleep.
But the food and water came at odd times, so I didn’t immediately go on edge.
Until hands were grabbing me, until they were bruising into my skin, until they were pulling off my clothes. Until fingers were pinching and probing, invading.
I screamed then.
Shameless.
Because, damnit, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was why I was complying.
To save the girls.
And myself.
This couldn’t be happening.
“No!” I shrieked as more fingers joined, creating a pain I couldn’t describe.
But then, suddenly, the door was slamming off the wall, and the weight was moving away from me.
I was so busy trying to curl into myself that I had no idea what was happening with my attacker.
Until, suddenly, Cain’s shoes were in my line of vision.
“Get yourself together, my dear,” he said, voice calm, but he was out of breath. “We have a test to do.”
I didn’t object.
Because, as fucking sick as this was, I somehow knew I was safer with Cain Roth than I was with his guards.
So I got up.
I put on my tee, then my panties.
I followed behind Cain as he led me out of the dungeon, then outside.
