“Net,” the girl replies. I feel her fear tremble in her limbs.
Footsteps clunk closer, muffled like heavy boots over thick carpet. Her hand reluctantly slips from my mouth as she twists on the bed beside me. Try as I might to hold the vomit in my mouth, it explodes out of me. Yanking my body up to a sitting position. I can’t control it as wave after wave of sick covers me in the soured contents of my stomach.
My body threatens to fall limp in the aftermath of its purge, but as the large figure comes closer, panic becomes terror.
The singed walls of the club’s recreation room draw in. Purple and gold and midnight swirl around me as large hands grasp my shoulders. Dark, pinhead eyes freeze on me.
“Ah, welcome back.” Tomasz’s bodyguard smirks. His thin lips stretch oddly to one side.
Looking down my soiled body, he releases me. It shouldn’t ease the fear roaring inside, but the loss of the contact is pacifying in a way.
In one long swoop, his hand cuts through the air, hurtling past me before it smacks loudly onto the girl’s face, sending her flying off the double futon I’m on.
“Suka!” His yell is punctuated by his spit at her feet.
Her whimper is the only marker of her consciousness.
That’s my fault. She told me not to move. Not to speak.
Oh God.
Without a word he looks me up and down before he leaves with a disgusted sneer.
The pain in my head thrums on in the background as I jump off the futon once he’s left the room. My ankles crick in my heels, and all I can do not to scream is bite my tongue. Warm blood floods my mouth, and although I’m scared, something about the taste gives me fight. I refuse to go down like this.
Kicking my shoes off in any direction, I straighten myself. The smell of vomit makes me shudder. At least the acrid taste has been replaced with that of my blood.
I’ll make sure every drop is repaid if it’s the last thing I do.
Kneeling by the blonde girl, I brush her hair back. Her face is battered and bruised, but even with the swelling, I can tell she’s beautiful. Her long limbs are emaciated.
She’s a ball of trembling fear huddled in on herself. Blood drips from her hairline to her jaw in crimson streaks.
So much blood.
Fuck.
I can’t breathe as memories prickle my skin, my scars burning.
Her stiff limbs stick as I try to straighten her. Dizziness tumbles around the extremities of my soberness.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, making an effort not to hurt her any more than she already is.
She laughs, tears cutting through the blood streaks, creating new paths for it to river down.
Finally managing to sit her against a fallen chair, I freeze.
Jesus. Oh Christ.
Her cream dress is mottled with fresh and dried stains. Blood amongst other things. Her thighs are bruised and scratched. The skin on her knees looks like it’s about to break.
My hands count a few of her wounds as I try to gauge how badly damaged she is. In the back of my mind I’m walking myself through the tour Oliver gave me with all the secret passages and nooks to hide in. I need to know that she can make it out of here, but the more I check her, the clearer it becomes that she’s incapable of climbing stairs and navigating dark passages.
Her thighs are crusted over; she can barely press them together as she tries to scurry away from me in vain.
“I’m going to help you. Okay?”
Her laugh rattles again.
Ignoring her response, I keep checking her over. I have no idea what I’m looking for, nor why I feel the compulsion to make sure she’s okay. Except for the fact she tried to save me and the familiarity I feel for her…I have no reason.
When my hands are about to pause over stomach she slaps them away. It’s the most life she’s shown since Tomasz’s thug left.
“Are you in pain? Have they hurt you?”
The questions are so fucking stupid she laughs again. I’m not stupid. I can deduce what she’s endured form the horrific marks on her body.
What is it about human nature that makes us ask the most obvious things when shocked or confronted with something as horrendous as this? They bring no comfort to the person. The answer is already plain to see, but…
Bringing her legs up, she hugs them to her chest.
God, there’s nothing of her. No wonder she flew with the brutal impact of the goon’s attack.
“People are looking for me. They’re going to find me. To find us. They’re coming for us.”
“Pray they come soon.” More tears sluice down her face as her arms tighten around herself.
“They will, and they will slaughter them all. One by o—”
“Are you brave or stupid?” A familiar voice robs the atmosphere of all the air.
It’s her shudder that determines what I need to be. She was terrified of his bodyguard, but her awareness of Tomasz goes beyond terror.
It takes all my strength not to stumble as I stand. My dress makes it a difficult task with the long skirt making it difficult for me stand without pulling the hem up to the middle of my thighs.
Even though I right it the moment I’m on my feet, it takes me a second to steady myself with the somnolent haze chilling my consciousness. My stomach churns, threatening to purge again.
Breathe. Breathe, I tell myself in my desperate attempt not to show weakness. Fucking breathe.
Christopher’s coming for me. I know he is. He’ll be here any moment.
Hold on.
I focus my stare on Tomasz’s cold eyes.
He comes closer.
One step. Two. Three.
My toes curl into the thick Persian rug beneath my feet.
Don’t move.
I recall all the things Christopher and Casper told me right before they took me shark diving.
Keep still.
Relax.
Feel your surroundings. Use them to ground the fear.
Tomasz looks meaner than a great white as he circles me, stepping over the girl on the floor like she’s a snag on the rug.
Coming to a stop in front of me, he tucks his hands into his pockets.
“Both,” he sniggers.
Another step closer.
His right hand leaves his pocket, brushing my hair back from my face as he grimaces down my front. My soiled state clearly disgusts him, but he doesn’t move.
The smell of expensive cigars and cool leather engulfs me. It’s not an awful smell. I like it. I like the richness of it. I hate that I like it. I hate that it gives me hope that maybe there’s something good inside the cold exterior.
“Turn.”
Shaking my head at his command, I press my legs together so I don’t topple as a wave of nausea and dizziness hits me. I chill all over, clammy to the bone.
Spinning me on the spot, he grumbles something about fucking drugs and idiots.
Squeezing my eyes together, I refuse to tear up as he yanks at the chain holding my dress together. It doesn’t take much to tear it from its clasp.
My eyes open to a petrified blue gaze. The girl swallows. I swallow.
Steeling as he tries to pull my dress down my body, I refuse to let him touch me without a fight. The images from the articles burn in mind.
“I fight harder,” he warns in his crude accent. His voice is dry like he’s spent the evening chain-smoking.
He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He doesn’t know what it is to fight. He may be stronger physically, but I’m a bigger, badder monster than him mentally.
I won’t let him destroy me.
“I’m not scared of you.” I level him with my best impassive stare when he turns me back to him.
“Your bravery is stupid.”
My smile throws him through a loop. Confusion loosens his hold on me.
It doesn’t take long for him to fix that, but I’ve found a weakness.
He knows it too because he wrestles the fabric of my dre
ss, grunting with the exertion it takes him to fight my resistance.
Of course, he overpowers me, and eventually the fabric gives and I’m left in nothing but my thong.
Throwing my dress on the floor, he takes a step back, giving me room to turn from him.
The girl’s eyes fall to my scars. Wonder fills her face, or maybe it’s curiosity? I don’t know, but there’s a shift in her spirit. I see it in the furrow of her brows. The hard set of her jaw.
Fight with me, I implore her silently. For a moment I think she will, but as Tomasz rounds me, her demeanour falls once again.
He doesn’t stop or pause. His hands close the tops of my arms, pushing me back until the back of my legs hit the soft padding of the futon.
“Are you scared now?” The smirk on his face is leering.
“No.” Fear will do nothing now. My energy is better spent on fighting. And I fight him. Every touch, every push, and every pull at my flesh.
I hold in the whimper of pain as he winds his fingers in my hair and pulls hard enough to make me bow towards him. I fight the force of his strength as he drags me onto the couch. Even when he kicks my feet from under me, I kick back. I drive my fists at him hard and relentlessly as he continues to physically overpower me.
He manages to push me down onto the edge of the seat, pressing his groin to my chest with hungry eyes and angry breaths.
It’s then that fear swallows me. My fingers bleed from all the ways I’ve tried to keep him from ruining me. My lungs burn with my exertion. My vision clouds with the oceans of tears I’ve held back.
Tightening his hand in my hair, he yanks my head back, slowly forcing me onto my back while straddling my body with his thighs.
I’m trying to push back with everything I have. I’m trying to save myself. I keep trying even as he overpowers me. My head swims with my anxiety.
With a grunt he traps my right forearm with his leg. A scream of pain bursts from me as the bone threatens to break under his weight.
“You know what happens to lying whores?” he jeers, twisting my other arm until it’s also trapped by the side of my head.
He’s straddling my stomach, rubbing his hardness on my chest.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
It’s all I can think as he releases my hair and begins to loosen his belt.
Stay calm.
Ground my fear.
Ground my fear.
Stay still.
Ground my fear.
Stay still!
I tell myself, but I can’t. I can’t let him win.
Kicking as hard as I can with my legs, I do all I can to delay him because Christopher is coming for me. I’m sure of it.
I’ll always find you.
You’re mine to protect.
You have me. Always.
He promised me.
Pain stabs me in the chest with every pump of my heart.
“Keep fighting,” Tomasz taunts as he opens his fly. “It makes it better when I win.”
His erection bobs over my chest. Bile burns up my throat.
Holding the arm that’s trapped beneath his leg, he scoots lower down my body, twisting my arm above my head where he captures my right wrist along with my left.
The dam breaks as he straddles my thighs, his free hand following the contour of my body to my belly.
Tear after tear rains down my temples, puddling in my ears so that all I can hear is muffled waves and all I can smell is singed air.
Beachy bonfires. Autumn nights. Rich forests. Still lakes. Warm whisky. Loving hands.
Fingertips trace my scars. “Did it hurt?”
White-tipped waves. Soft breeze. Gold skin. Caring smile. Caring smile. Caring smile.
To me, you are everything.
That’s my last thought as the world crushes me. Gravity gives up and the firmament collapses on me. The waters above and below engulf me.
I’m drowning. And drowning. Drowning.
It’s weightless.
It’s cold.
Warm hands. Rich heart. Caring soul. Fiery eyes.
If you can cry, you can fight!
Fight, Belles!
You fight to the end.
Fucking fight!
“You want a fight?” My bellow fills the air. It feels like breaking the surface of the water and filling my lungs with all the air they ached for.
Fine.
I will not be beaten.
Blinking my tears away, I yank my hands free as I bring my knees up with enough force to drop Tomasz on me. His face slots into the crook of my neck as my hand finds my shoe.
It happens so quickly. The thought doesn’t even register fully until warmth leaks between us.
Pulling the heel from his neck I bring it down again as hard as the first time while he convulses over me. Blood spurts onto my neck and my face. I do it again and again and again.
I don’t stop until my weapon slips from my hands. The metallic sharpness in the air chokes me with the dead weight pinning me down.
All I can do is lie still and try to catch my breath so I can free myself. However, a low cry trembles beside me followed by a rush of cool air.
There’s no time to gather myself as the door slams open. Shouts and bullet fire fill the air.
“Fuck!” I turn towards the loud curse, and my heart twists in my chest.
Charles’ wide eyes flit from me to the body beside me and the girl that’s still holding on to me.
“He’s dead,” I tell him.
He’s silent for a moment. It’s strange. Any of the other men would’ve rushed to help me. They would’ve made sure I was okay, and they would have taken me away.
The girl holds on tighter, her bony fingers digging into my flesh.
Then all I see are blue eyes coming for me. My head hurts and my face aches.
Realisation is a bitch. It chills me to the core.
“How could you?” I stand, and he takes a step back. “How could you betray your family? Your wife…”
“Was a philandering whore.” His face twists with disgust.
“Fleur. Your daughter. Do you know what you’ve done to her?” My every step trembles, each shot making me flinch.
“She’s no child of mine.”
How did I not see this sooner? All those times we crossed each other and I thought he was working Tomasz like I was. Pretending to be in his pocket…
“You sent me for him.” I point behind me to the futon. “You. You told my dad to send me. Why?”
A dry laugh rumbles from him as he looks me up and down. I forgot I was practically naked. Embarrassment hits me and all I can do not to shrivel up in front of him is cross my arms over my chest.
What a stupid thing to worry about in the moment, but I’ve already had a man try to take something from me.
It’s then I feel the cold. The room didn’t feel like this before. Drawing tight as it crusts over in Tomasz’s blood, my skin stings.
None of this makes sense though. “Why?”
Charles shrugs.
“Why me?” I yell with the lump in my throat breaking my voice.
Shivering, everything inside me tells me to back away.
“You kept all the wolves at bay.” The words roll off his tongue like butter sliding off a hot knife.
“What?”
“It wasn’t personal. It’s the way things are. You got in the way.” Guilt flickers on his face, and the world upends. The events that have led me to this moment hang in the air around me. Memories and nightmares. Broken dreams and stolen lives. “It was never meant to be like this. It’s them, don’t you see? They don’t understand how the world has changed. How it works.”
“You’re a traitor.”
Nodding, he takes a step towards me, then another…
“Is he worth it?”
He takes one more step. His proximity is palpable now.
Still, I don’t move.
“You could have saved yourself and
your child.”
A shudder wracks my body as he studies the scars on my sheathed skin. Then it hits. His words hit me like a hammer to glass.
The thirst for blood—his blood—overwhelms me. I’m unable to stop myself as I lunge at him. I’m no match for him as he towers over me, but I give it everything I have in me. Scratching and clawing, I want to rip him apart. I want to tear him to shreds.
“I have to admit, you have more in you than we gave you credit for,” he spits in my face, his hand closing around my neck as he suspends me on the tips of my toes. Holding me his arm length away, I can’t get close enough. I try to kick, but it’s like hanging myself.
“You played the perfect part. Benedict was too scared to make a move on Tomasz because it put you in danger. Christopher was too busy chasing you to put his energy into anything else.” Blood smears his white shirt from my attack, but apart from that, he’s barely fazed, not one feather ruffled. “He would’ve kept you.” He nods at the corpse on the futon. “You see the damage you did? He knew you were playing him, but he still refused to take care of you. You almost ruined everything…all you had to do was follow the instructions. Put on the dress and go to the club. I made it easy. It would’ve been painless. Quick. You wouldn’t have felt it, and he would’ve had his head back in the game.”
My heart hammers forcefully as my blood continues to drain to my feet. I pinch and scratch at his arm, trying to weaken his hold, but everything at my edges is going numb. The pounding of my heart is slowing despite its hard work.
His voice distorts in my muffled ears. My vision spots before it steadily fails me, dimming into a black canvas of half feeling and half hearing.
“It could’ve been so different.” Warm breath fuzzes over my face.
My heart beats one more time, dragging its thrum before it stops.
There’s nothing left.
It’s over.
Chapter 43
Christopher
Where are you? It’s all I can think as I gulp the thick and foggy air. Bodies move ahead of me, Ryan and Wayne on either side as Freddie and Leo follow behind. Last time we were here, the place was draped in fine fabrics, the panelling waxed to perfection. Now everything is dank.
Acid burns the back of my throat with every step that threatens to send the place crashing down on us. Claustrophobic passages are strewn with remnants of unsalvageable furniture and goods.
Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2) Page 36