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My brother is gaping like a freshly landed fish. The moonlight catches the scars on his head, the places his hair hasn’t grown back in. With his broken nose, he looks like a ruined statue.
“Asswipe!” Jonas barks. “Move it!”
Leo crosses the room like a zombie. He takes the plastic zip-ties Jonas throws on the table. He fastens my wrists to the arms of the chair. He ties my ankles to the legs.
I can’t fight. I can’t move. I can’t believe my brother is working with these demons again. I don’t know how he got them into the freeport, but Leo is the reason Trap and I will die tonight.
Jonas digs deep in a pocket and drops something else on the table. “Get that on her,” he snaps.
It’s an O-ring gag.
I don’t know if it’s the one Herzog used in his study. I don’t know if it’s the one that cut into my lips when the brothers took turns fucking my mouth. I don’t know if it’s the one that gave them free access to my tongue, so they could dose me with Crash the first time.
All I know is it will kill me to wear it.
“Please,” I beg. I don’t bother talking to Leo. He’s just a tool, a machine. He can’t decide to save me. I thrust my appeal at Jonas. “Please,” I say again. “Not the gag. Let me suck you off. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
“Oh I’ll feel good, you fucking whore. When my cock rips your ass in two, I’ll feel like a fucking king.”
“If you put that on me, I won’t be able to beg,” I say. “You want to hear me beg, right?”
“I’ll settle for you screaming,” Jonas sneers. And then, to Leo: “Get it on her. Now.”
“Please,” I whisper to my brother. “Don’t do this. You’re a good man. You don’t have to listen to them. You don’t have to do what they—”
He lashes the buckle so tight, I see stars.
Jonas laughs as he steps toward the kitchen door. “Any time today, moron,” he says to his brother.
Ansel shuffles into the dining room with a sheaf of zip-ties in one hand and the shotgun in the other. “I doubled up on him,” he says, tossing the plastic ties onto the table. “Don’t want the bastard getting loose.”
That means Trap is still alive. I need to fight. I need to find a way to survive.
“Not dressed like a kitten tonight,” Jonas says to me. And then, to Ansel, “Let’s cut her out of this shit.”
Ansel parks the gun on the table before he produces a sleek metal capsule from his pocket. I can barely see its shape in the darkness, but his thumb shifts, and a wicked triangle of blade snicks into place. “I’ve got first dibs,” he says. And he grabs the hem of my T-shirt, holding the fabric taut as he uses the box cutter to slice from my neck to my waist.
“First isn’t always best, little brother.” Jonas holds out his hand for the knife. He goes after the sturdy fabric of my sports bra.
I tug at the arms of the chair. I try to kick my way free. I twist my body, doubling over, doing anything I can to protect my breasts. And all the while, I scream an endless wail, because the gag has stolen all my words.
Jonas fights back. He plants an elbow in the hollow of my throat, making me choke for air. He lands a punch to my solar plexus. But even gasping, I continue to thrash, because whatever he’s planning is worse than not being able to breathe.
He catches my hair in his fist, yanking my head against his heaving belly to bare my throat to the ceiling. The box cutter hovers over the stretched line of my jaw. “I’ll do it, bitch. I’ll cut your throat the same way you cut Klaus. Ear to ear, and then I’ll fuck your bleeding windpipe.”
There’s a strangled noise that I think I’ve pushed past the gag, but then I realize it’s Leo. I can just see him out of the corner of my eye. Tears stream down his face, and he’s gasping for air.
But he isn’t doing a thing to stop the men who want to kill me.
I collapse back in the armchair. Jonas finishes cutting off my bra. He traces the tip of the knife around my nipples, whispering, “You won’t bleed out, if I just take these. We can play for hours.”
But Ansel elbows in for his turn. He takes the blade back. He chokes when he realizes my yoga pants are soaked with piss, but he wipes his hand on my bare chest and saws away at the fabric. He yanks the ruined cloth from under my ass and rubs my face with it, like a man teaching a puppy not to piddle.
Jonas grabs back the knife. “Here,” he says, thrusting the blade toward Leo. “You get her panties.”
I howl in protest. Leo freezes.
Jonas says to my brother, “You cut them off, or I will. And if I do it, you’ll eat them. Every fucking bite.”
