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He reached for me again, but just then the front door opened. There was no force behind it, no wood splintering forward, violence promised. No, someone who didn’t need a show, who didn’t need to let anyone know the menace they held, did this. I felt it as the cold air rushed into the apartment and the two men surrounding me turned.
And there stood Cameron with the man who I assumed was his muscle standing beside him.
Before anyone could move, Damien lifted his arm and fired off a shot that had the guy Ricky brought falling to the ground. The gunshot was quiet, the silencer making the violence almost seem gentle.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. If Cameron hadn’t shown up when he did—again—I knew I would have been hauled away and used for strange men’s sexual gratification.
But him being here at the right time couldn’t have been a coincidence. Had he been watching me? Had he been waiting until this moment to step up, to claim what I’d offered by ending my problem?
“How did you know?” I found myself saying, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut, but the words tumbled out of me on their own like they needed an escape, too.
He didn’t show any emotion as he stared at me. He didn’t answer. I was his property, so surely he’d keep an eye on me.
Either way I couldn’t feel anything but this bone-searing relief, because what Ricky had planned would have made death seem like a gift.
Damien moved close to Ricky, pressed the gun to his forehead, but didn’t pull the trigger. “On your knees,” was all he said.
I didn’t know if I expected Ricky to fight back, but it was clear he was at least smart enough—or maybe just too terrified—to know these men were not to be fucked with.
He went right to his knees.
Cameron walked over to Ricky, the air suddenly hot, the feeling of suffocating intense. Cameron gave a nod, and Damien sheathed his gun right before he started wailing on Ricky. Punch after punch landed on Ricky, his face becoming bloody, swollen, like freshly tenderized meat.
I gasped.
“That’s enough, Damien” Cameron said after what seemed like hours.
Although I had no doubt Cameron could hold his own, could gift anyone with his violence, he used Damien to extract that, to be his fists, his rage.
Damien hauled up Ricky so he was on his knees again, the man wobbling, clearly having a hard time keeping upright. The sounds that came from him were gurgled, wet…blood-filled.
I glanced between Cameron and Damien—his muscle. His killer. Damien looked stoic, aloof, like he didn’t give a shit what was happening. He had just beat the shit out of Ricky like this was an everyday occurrence.
You stupid girl. It is. These men are dangerous, far more dangerous than what you were up against. You’ll become ruined, broken, a shell of what you were or ever could be.
And I’d signed up for this, all but begged Cameron to help me.You agreed to do anything, everything.
I looked at Damien’s hands, his knuckles busted up, Ricky’s blood covering them. His arms were crossed, his face a mask of pure violence. He was a man comfortable with death, with killing.
Just like Cameron…the man who now owned my body.
Cameron was collected, calm, but I could see the anger, the rage simmering right below the surface. He wore a suit, the dark fabric molded to his strong, hard body. The white shirt underneath the jacket had the first few buttons undone at the collar, his chest and neck tattoos a stark contrast to the light-colored material.
My heart was thundering, and I felt like I could pass out.
His dark hair was short, cropped close to his head, styled like he didn’t give a fuck. And I knew he didn’t, because a man like him cared only about what he could gain, what he could own. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was in this life, inhell, by caring about anyone but himself.
Then I watched as Cameron produced his own gun, the dark violence swirling around him despite the composed aura he held. He cocked the gun, his gaze locked on me. No emotion, no fucks given as he stared at me.
“He’s been hurting you,” Cameron said matter-of-factly. “He hurt you right now.” I couldn’t move, couldn’t even rise from the floor or say a word about this. I was a slave to my emotions…and I’d be a slave to Cameron once this was all said and done.
I opened my mouth, maybe to say something, anything, but the words failed me, the air thickening. I was sweating, my hair sticking to the sides of my head, beads of perspiration dotting the valley between my breasts.
“You want your trouble to go away?” Cameron asked.
I was frozen, not even able to think coherently at the moment.
“You want to be free of this pain, of this nightmare?”
