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Humiliation washed over me. Despair and a self-hatred so deep and so engrained that I would never be free of it.
Little rabbit was the old name. Pisspot became the new one.
I caught the sob in my throat as it threatened to escape, and my knees wobbled, nearly buckling.
That night, and the nightmare weeks that followed, would be burned in my memory until the day I died.
His hand around my throat.
His foul breath in my face, spittle flying as another punch landed.
My ribs punishing me for the half breath I’d stolen when he eased his hold.
A knee to my nuts.
My lungs screaming for oxygen.
My vision blurring.
Darkening.
Waking up.
Unable to open my bruised eyes.
Wet.
Piss soaked.
Cum soaked.
My throat raw. Burning.
I still wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been orally raped while I was out, or from his hold on me. It hadn’t mattered.
My injuries saved me. I was in the hospital wing for a week under observation. It’d taken that long for me to stop pissing blood. He was gone when I got put back in my cell, and I waited on tenterhooks for the other shoe to drop. For him to walk back into the cell and end me. Every second of every day dragged, lasting eons.
I hobbled out that gate a free man a couple of weeks later and swore I would never go back. Never in a million years. Never in a million millennia.
“She’s the love of my life,” Flynn murmured from behind me, snapping me out of my nightmare. I flexed my hands, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. “Your opinion of Zee might have changed, but she’s still the same person as before.”
I cleared my throat, hoping against hope that my voice was steady. I didn’t want to give away any more pieces of myself, not when I needed to preserve the already-cracked foundations of the walls I’d hastily built. It had been easy to let them in. I should have clued in to the fact that they were too good to be true. I should have listened to the warning bells going off the first time I stepped onto the yacht. I should have said no to Ez when he told me I needed his investigator in my class.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. But I hadn’t. Now I was fucking kicking myself.
“Except now I know a key fact about her, one that I’m not prepared to have anything to do with.” I flicked my gaze to Ryder. He stood as still as a statute, but the death glare he was shooting me hadn’t softened. His hands were still clenched, his muscles rigid. He was like an attack dog readying to strike. I was the intruder trespassing on his property.
My phone vibrated in my pocket with a call coming in. I pulled it out and answered before Ryder could object.
“You found out,” Ezra fished.
“Apparently,” I deadpanned. “She’s out. I don’t want her in my class. I don’t want her involved with the podcast.” The heaviness in my chest was making it hard to breathe. Speaking was almost impossible, but I forced the words out.
“You realize she’s not going to back down. You try to take her out of this, and she’ll just bury the whole thing.” Ezra’s words sounded flippant, but his tone was deadly serious.
I shook my head, grinding my teeth together, determined not to back down. I didn’t break Ryder’s stare as my gut churned at the reality that faced me. “I don’t care. I’m not going back there. Not for her to feel better about herself. Not for anything or anyone. I won’t condone illegal activities in the name of something I’m heading up.”
“I get that, mate.”
