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It was going to take Dornan to break her.
It was just the two of them now, on the stage; them, and a camera and a small table where Dornan was laying his clothes in a neat pile as he pulled them from his body.
As she continued to protest.
‘You’re supposed to be my family!’ Juliette screamed, bleeding all over the fucking place.
He stared at the girl in front of him, and something inside him said stop. It was a whimper, not a scream, that voice of dissent that said It’s not too late to let her go. But something else, something much louder and more powerful drowned that protest out. The beast inside him demanded vengeance, demanded destruction. And the beast needed to be fed.
Dornan swallowed. Took a deep breath, took a step towards her, his belt in his hands.
And he became the monster he was born to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DORNAN
‘Get up.’
Jason was at his feet, his face bloody and swollen from being beaten unconscious.
‘Where is she?’ he begged. ‘Please, where is she?’
Dornan reached down and grabbed the back of his son’s neck. His anger gave him brute strength, and it was the easiest thing in the world to drag the insolent little fucker away from the stage where a naked Juliette lay, unconscious and bleeding from what Dornan had done to her. In one hand he gripped his son. In the other, the remnants of Juliette’s clothing – a macabre souvenir of the dignity he’d stolen from her.
He entered the small office where John was being held, still dragging Jase. As soon as they were both safely in the room and the door locked, he shoved Jase away. He fell to the floor and scrambled into the corner, getting as far away from his father as he could.
‘Where’s Ana?’ Dornan asked, scanning the faces around him. Viper and Jimmy and . . . oh yes. John. Tied to a chair, his face much like Jase’s – bloody and swollen and bruised.
‘She’s down the hall,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Want me to get her?’
Dornan shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
He circled John’s chair once before stopping in front of him.
‘Johnny Boy,’ he said.
John refused to look at his oldest friend. Dornan thought that was odd. Shouldn’t he be begging Dornan to let Juliette go?
But then he remembered, John didn’t know about Juliette.
Dornan steeled himself, the sticky bunch of fabric in his hand. He dropped the bloodied clothing on John’s lap, piece by piece. John looked at the material, either disinterested or confused, Dornan couldn’t tell which.
And then he dropped the last piece. The piece of T-shirt with the little rainbow icon that, just two hours ago, had sat above Juliette’s heart as she wore her regular clothes and lived her regular life.
John’s eyes widened when he saw the rainbow, his head whipping up so that he could look at Dornan.
‘No,’ he said hoarsely.
Dornan smirked.
‘No!’ John screamed, bucking against his ropes. ‘No! No! No!’
Dornan, who’d started pacing in front of his bound, traitorous friend, stopped on his heel and turned in front of John. He stood so close, their legs touching, that had John been able to pry his hands free from their bindings, he’d have been able to swing at him.
‘Sixteen years you kept Stephanie from me.’
John looked down at the bloody ribbons of clothing in his lap, horrified. Transfixed. ‘What did you do?’ he breathed.
