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The door flies open, crashing against the back wall as it bounces on its hinges. I shoot off the couch, only to come face-to-face with the man who practically bought me from my father. Logan hasn’t returned from wherever he went, and now I’m standing facing the man I ran from, the one I hid away from for years.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Herbert says in his cold, rage-filled tone as he saunters inside. Two men, both dressed in black suits, white button-up shirts, follow him into the cabin. It doesn’t take him long to reach me. I can’t move because I’m stuck between him and the couch. He steps closer, and I fall back onto the cushions.
“I . . . I didn’t mean—”
“You know,” he says, interrupting my mumbling, “I thought you’d be a good girl for me.” His words send poison trickling through my veins. “But you’re nothing like that, are you?” His dark brow arches as he questions me. “Tell me something, Vera,” he continues. His dark eyes look so much like his sons it’s scary. “Do you like playing house with my son?”
“I never wanted to marry you. I—I told my father that. I—I was just trying to live my life,” I tell him, but my voice breaks on the last word. I inwardly curse myself for the fear lacing my words.
“With my son? He deserted you!” His voice bounces off the wall, the threat hanging on every word. “He walked away from his chance, and your father agreed that you would be mine.”
“I’m not a possession you can push around, bartering me.” I push off the couch, needing space from this man I know is going to hurt me. There’s no doubt about it; he isn’t someone who can be reasoned with. I’ve known him all my life, and I know for a fact that even my father was afraid of him.
I pray inwardly that Logan will return, but with the two bodyguards standing at the door, and his father right up in my face, I have a feeling he won’t make it in time. And even if he did, they would be armed, and the thought of Logan getting hurt because of me sends cold dread racing through my body.
“You,” he sneers, grabbing my hair, tugging me backward until I fall against his large, looming frame. “Are mine.” There’s no longer a question that he’s angry. My throat feels thick, and my lungs work hard to pull in a much-needed breath. “And I’m here to show my son that he may try to save you, but he’s no fucking hero.”
Herbert pushes me onto the floor. The pain that shoots through my arm as I fall against the wood of the coffee table causes me to cry out in agony.
“Perhaps my son likes the helpless ones.” Another dark chuckle follows me as the two men who were behind Herbert are now in front of me. One of them has a syringe in his hand. The clear liquid filling the device makes my chest tighten in fear.
“What is that?”
“Something to show Logan he’s not some fucking hero who can save his damsel in distress,” Herbert tells me, which only kicks up the level of fear that’s captured me.
Confusion settles around me as the men drag me up the stairs. I watch as Herbert follows, and my legs kick out in an attempt to shove him down to the floor, but he’s too far out of reach. My arms flail as the large hands grip my biceps, and they pull me into the bedroom where Logan had me captive.
“What are you doing? Please, please don’t hurt me,” I beg, looking directly at Herbert Oakridge, but from the expression on his face, I know pleading for mercy isn’t going to make him change his mind.
He moves toward me as both bodyguards hold me down on the mattress. My legs kick up and out, but I don’t make contact. Herbert’s hand raises, and I notice the syringe. He leans in and offers me a sickening grin.
“Time to go to sleep, Vera,” he chuckles darkly. The sound is low, animalistic. He doesn’t sound human. The sharp needle pierces my skin, and I watch as he pushes the plastic bit down, injecting me.
“No! What is that? No!” My voice is scratchy, my throat dry and painful as the words are ripped from me. I feel the heaviness in my limbs, my eyelids fighting to stay open, and as I look at the man who’s finally gotten what he wants, I can no longer fight.
Darkness overwhelms me, and weariness takes hold.
“Please,” I mumble, sounding like a voice from a dying radio. “Please don’t.” The last thing I remember is a shot ringing out before I’m stolen from the light and thrown into darkness.
