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He was raised by my grandfather, a sick, abusive pervert if Artemis is telling the truth. My grandfather was a killer, my father was a killer, and my mother was a killer. I am carved from tainted meat. My parents knew about my hereditary tendency toward perversion and evil, yet they let me suffer alone. They let me think something was wrong with me; they never told me it was their fault, that they were the ones who made me the way that I am.
As I drive away, I’m getting angrier and angrier. If I could just save my siblings, I’d let my parents burn for their sins. I’d let them suffer a million times worse than they made me suffer. Abruptly, I pull the car over. Fuck this. I need to hurt someone. Since Camille’s the closest to me, it’s going to be her right now. Damn the consequences.
CHAPTER20
Camille
I staggerout of the tub and fall to my knees.
Roy, the neighborhood watch volunteer that I’m paying, should be calling the cops for me right now. Assuming he’s alive. I wouldn’t put it passed Bastien to take him out to save his hide.
I drag myself to my feet and stumble to the bedroom to pull on dry clothes. Unfortunately, I happen to know that police response time to this neighborhood is pretty slow, twenty minutes at least. I hope to God Bastien doesn’t know that.
I pull on flannel pajamas, shaking and coughing through the entire process.
I hate Bastien so much, but worst of all, there’s still love mixed in with the hate. I want him to stop hurting me. I want him to care about me again.
How horrifically messed up.
I’m weak with terror and exhaustion right now. Coldness has crept into the deepest part of my bones, and all I want is for the strongest man I know, Bastien, to take me in his arms and tell me that he’ll protect me from the nightmare. To tell me that everything will be all right.
Bastien is the nightmare.
What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t stop myself. I wish I could.
I’m beyond freezing, so I head to the thermostat by the front door to turn up the heat. I’m cranking it up to eighty degrees when two men dressed all in black burst through the unlocked door. Before I even have time to scream, one of them throws a hood over my head.
Something stings my butt cheek, and my head grows fuzzy.
* * *
Sometime later, my eyes blink open, and I struggle to sit up.
I’m on a wooden floor. I don’t recognize this place.
The men. The hood.
The stinging in my ass.
Oh God.
How much time has passed?
“Here, need a hand?” A man’s voice is laced with nasty humor. Not Bastien.
Two men tower above me. They’re muscular guys in their thirties. Both of them have military buzz cuts and scars on their faces, and one has a nose that was broken and badly reset. The other one has a thick scar slashing vertically through his right eyebrow. They’re wearing black jeans and T-shirts, and they have guns magazine clips holstered on their hips. Their eyes rove over me, and I realize, to my horror, that I’m naked. I hide my breasts and crotch with my hands, mortified.
I can’t believe Bastien is doing this to me. I can’t believe he didn’t have the guts to do it himself. Apparently, I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did because if I was sure of one thing, it was that his attacks on me were deeply personal. He needed to see my terror, drink it, and bathe in it. But no, he didn’t even care enough to do this himself. He’s handed me over to these bastards…and they’ve let me see their faces. They’d only allow that for one reason.
They’re going to kill me.
Terror turns me liquid. They’ll brutalize me, then…oh God. This is my last day on earth.
“I see what he likes about her,” Broken-nose says to his friend, his gaze sweeping over me as I cringe away from him. He smirks at me, waggling his eyebrows. “You want to choose which hole we use first?”
“Stay away from me!” I half shriek, half sob. I leap to my feet, burning with shame at my nudity. I run for the door, but he’s on me in a second, arms wrapped around me, pinning me in place. Scar-eyebrow walks over and runs his hands over my body, squeezing my breasts. I go stiff with revulsion. This is nothing like when Bastien forces himself on me. There’s always an intimacy between Bastien and me, and underneath all of his cruelty and madness, I swear Bastien still cares for me.
This is grotesque. My skin wants to crawl off my body as the man probes and paws at me. I desperately squeeze my legs shut, but he forces his hand between my quivering thighs and shoves his fingers inside me. I cry silently, tears of pain and disgust running down my cheeks. I struggle not to make any noise because I’m sure there’s no one to hear me, and I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.
