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He’s here.
I know he is.
“We’re finally alone, Sugar,” he croons.
His voice is the stuff of nightmares. But instead of conjuring up images of the horrific stuff he’s done to me, my mind shuts down. I become numb.
It doesn’t feel like me when I lift my hand, moving the glass to my mouth before emptying it. And it definitely doesn’t feel like me when I spin around and come face-to-face with a haggard-looking Gunner.
His hair is plastered to his scalp instead of in its usual bun. The beard he kept sleek and well-groomed, while with the Reapers, is wild and unkempt. As I take him in, I notice the dried blood on his green hoodie and the holes in his jeans that are anything but fashionable. He looks like he’s been on the run for months rather than days.
“Got nothing to say?” he asks, winking like we’re old friends who are destined for a catch up.
Despite all the things I’ve imagined myself screaming at him, no words come to mind. No accusation or insult. It’s almost like a black vortex has swallowed up all my thoughts or feelings, making it impossible for me to access them.
Gunner throws his arms out to the side. “I don’t think I’ve ever suffered this much for a hole before. So if I were you, I’d make sure our reunion is extra sweet. I’m beginning to think it’s not worth keeping you around.”
I whimper and take a step back when he stalks closer. The bar is still between us, but it won’t be for long. I’ve stupidly trapped myself back here.
Why the fuck didn’t I tell Gray about my suspicion? No, I can’t think like that. It was the right thing to do. I’ve already had this conversation with myself, and I can’t second-guess it just because…
I startle when Gunner leaps on top of the bar, and it only takes seconds for him to reach me. When I open my mouth to scream, he wraps his hand around my hair, and slams my head into the bar.
“None of that, Sugar. I’m not ready for them to come running to your rescue just yet.” His breath is foul and I gag as it washes over me. “Then again, they might not come back,” he chuckles.
Finally finding my voice, I croak, “What did you do?”
Gunner pulls me up by the hair and pushes me around. His hands move to my waist as he brings our crotches so close together I can feel his hardness. “Who, me? Oh, nothing big. Just a few booby-traps. That’s all.”
When he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, I’m finally freed from the mental haze that kept me inactive. I scream bloody murder and jam my knee into his junk.
Gunner falters back, his hands protectively covering his disgusting dick. “You b-bitch,” he cries.
I don’t pay attention to his words. Instead, I use my hand to reach for a bottle, and as soon as I have one in my hand, I swing it down on his head.
Wasting no time, I push him aside and dart around the bar. But I don’t even make it three steps, before he stops me with a hand fisted into my shirt.
“You’re only making the game more fun, Sugar,” he drawls, sounding crazed.
“Let me go,” I seethe, using all my weight to try to move forward to break his hold. But his pathetic appearance is misleading. He’s way stronger than he looks.
With an evil laugh, he moves his hand to the nape of my neck, adding pressure until I cry out.
“On your knees, Sugar,” he grins.
“No!” I scream.
Gunner reaches behind him and shows me the gun now clutched in his hand. “I said, on your fucking knees.”
I gulp. “N-no,” I repeat, shaking my head.
After Gray forced me to suck him off at gunpoint, I promised myself I’d never go to my knees at gunpoint again, and it’s a promise I intend to fucking uphold. If I’m to die, I’ll do so on my feet with my shoulders square.
Blood seeps from Gunner’s head where I hit him, but he isn’t bothered by it. Doesn’t even wipe it away. He just stands there, grinning with blood flowing freely down his face.
“I hoped you’d say no,” he says, pitching his voice low like he’s telling me a secret. “It’s no fun if you don’t fight.”
“W-why do you need me to fight?” I sputter.
