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But she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t in the same headspace as Kelsie yet. She had to fight. Even if it made the torture a hundred times crueler. Maybe she’d regret it later, but at least she’d know she didn’t accept her fate lying down.
“Fuck you,” she said, still on the floor.
Wilson—she’d rather die than add the mister—laughed. He bent over and grabbed her chin in an unforgiving hold. It felt as though he was trying to crush her jaw in his fist. “Pretty little girls shouldn’t say such ugly words.”
She spit right between his eyes.
Punishment was swift and harsh. He kicked her side with the pointy tip of his shiny dress shoe. The force of the kick wrenched her chin from his hands and sent her flying into the wall. He came at her again, grabbing a fistful of her damp hair and yanking her to her feet.
Brenna screamed and grabbed his hands. Her nails sunk into his flesh. She raked them across his skin, tearing into him. The feel of his skin gathering under her nails sent satisfaction soaring through her. He cursed and dropped her. She hit the ground hard and scrambled away as fast as she could, pushing to her feet when she had some distance between them.
Relief didn’t last long. Wilson wasn’t a huge man, but he had at least six inches and seventy pounds on her. He pounced, grabbing the front of her dress and slamming her into the wall. Her head hit with a hard smack that made the room spin. Wilson took advantage of her disorientation, hitting the side of her face with a closed fist.
The pain was extraordinary. Something split. Her cheek, her lip, she couldn’t tell because the pain encompassed every part of her head, but blood ran down onto her white dress.
Wilson tsked. The asshole loved making those disappointed sounds, as though she really was a child. “Now look what you did,” he said, staring at the blood on her ruined dress.
“Good.”
He reached for her, and she tried to swat him away, but her head swam, and her vision wasn’t right. He grabbed the front of the dress again. Brenna lashed out. She must have gotten lucky and hit something because he cursed and grabbed for his nose.
She tried to run, but he caught her with a fist to the stomach that had her doubling over with a breathless scream.
Wilson grabbed her arms and flung her toward the bed. She landed face down with a bounce.
Move, move, move.
She crawled forward, grabbing the bedding for leverage. If he got on top of her, she was screwed.
A hand circled her ankle and dragged her back.
“No!” she whimpered as her feet hit the floor, and her upper body was shoved flat on the bed with a firm hand on the back of her neck.
“You asked for this. I told you what happens to bad little girls.”
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling as much as she could.
Wilson shoved the dress up, revealing her thong and bare ass cheeks.
Her mind screamed at her to continue fighting. But pinned beneath a monster, she couldn’t move her body away. She kicked back like an angry horse, fighting for freedom.
Wilson grunted in pain but was able to use his knees to spread her legs wide and pin them to the sides of the bed.
“No,” she whispered. Tears flowed, mixing with the blood and creating a mess on the sheets. “I’m sorry, Lock.”
If only she’d just gone along with the plan. If only she hadn’t tried to confront Oliver.
So many if-onlys and regrets. She closed her eyes and thought of Lock’s strong arms around her, holding her tight and shielding her from the world.
The sound of Wilson’s zipper being lowered ran up her spine like a spur.
In a final burst of defiant energy, Brenna thrashed and screamed. She’d promised herself she’d fight, and goddammit, she wouldn’t let herself down.
LOCK DIDN’T HAVE any formal military or tactical training, but Spec put them through the paces every few months to ensure they could handle themselves in such situations.
He trailed Jinx down the hallway, keeping his back to the wall as he kept an eye on the door they’d come through while Jinx focused ahead. So far, aside from the giant guard Spec took out in under two seconds, they hadn’t encountered anyone else. The hallway was dim, with only a few sporadic lights, but even he could see the place was high-class.
“It’s too quiet,” Jinx whispered so low Lock had to strain to hear. “Why’s it so fucking quiet? Shouldn’t sex offenders be running around with neon lights over their heads? Make our life easier.”
