by Eden Summers
“It’s shock.” I make quick work of her other arm, trying to remain gentle as her nudity taunts me. I can’t stop myself from taking a glimpse. But it’s not for pleasure. It’s because of those fucking marks. “Those bruises…?” I can’t finish my question. It’s not the time or place to voice my angered curiosity when it’s clear who marked her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look.”
“The exposure means nothing to me anymore,” she whispers. “I lost ownership of my body long ago.”
I clench my jaw. Tight.
Anger clogs my throat. Rage burns my veins.
I wipe the last of the blood from her hand, throw the cloth to the floor, and help drag the material from around her neck to cover her nudity. “Nobody owns you. Not Luther. Not his men.”
“You don’t understand.” She busies herself righting the dress, her attention downcast. “You’ve got no idea.”
“Then tell me.”
She shakes her head.
“Tell me.”
She stiffens, her frantic gaze raising to mine. “Luther may be dead but his shackles still enslave me. There’s no escaping what he did. He’ll always own me.”
“I fucking disagree.”
“I wish I had your optimism. I guess it’s true that ignorance is bliss.”
Her argument is solid, but I refuse to fucking believe it. There’s no way this woman can’t bounce back. There’s too much life left in her to give up now.
“We’ll discuss this later.” I grab her hand and lead her from the room, stepping over the dead guy in the hall. We reach the front door together, then as soon as Penny makes her way outside she stumbles forward to her friends. The other women are already crying, their sobs increasing tenfold as Penny engulfs them in a group hug.
“What the fuck took so long?” Decker storms toward me. “We need to figure out what we’re doing.”
“What do you mean?” I frown at Hunter as he approaches. “I thought the plan was to get straight back to the island.”
“That was the original plan.” He stops before me, one hand clutching his gun, the other raking through his hair. “But these women aren’t stable. They haven’t stopped crying to take a fucking breath. And you and I both know Torian won’t be able to cope with that drama. He needs to focus to finish what you came here for. So it’s best if we get them out of here now.”
“I’ve already spoken to Torian,” Decker adds, “and he agrees. He’s going to make a call to the pilots and also find a way off this island via a private dock. It’s less dangerous that way, seeing as though only one of us is going with them.”
This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit. “You haven’t thought this through. Penny can’t leave.”
Hunter raises a brow. “She can’t? Or you don’t want her to?”
I get in his face and smile. Laugh. I try to fake a disregard to his assumption even though it hits too close to home. “If you were smart, you’d remember the fight she put up just because she wanted to bring the kid on this little escapade. So if you try to send her to another country without him, you’re going to have full-blown hysteria on your hands. Contagious fucking hysteria. Which means instead of four blubbering messes, you’re going to have a group of inconsolable trouble.”
“Then she can stay.” Hunter shrugs. “From what I’ve seen she hasn’t shed a tear anyway. It’s the others who need to go.”
“And who the fuck is going with them? They can’t make that trip on their own.”
“I guess that depends if Penny stays or goes. If she remains in Greece I assume lover boy—” he jerks his chin at me “—and big brother will want to keep hovering close. That leaves me to do the heavy lifting, because don’t forget that asshole who got away could be planning any number of things.”
I clench my teeth, biting back a reply to his “lover boy” comment that will only strengthen his derisive argument.
“It’s the best option,” Decker grates. “Hunt can go back and—”
He stops mid-sentence at the sound of crunching pebbles behind him. It’s Penny, her fragile frame coming to stand a few feet away.
“I heard my name.” She inches closer. “What’s going on?”
Hunt clears his throat. Decker glances off in the distance while rubbing the back of his neck. Both of them act as if they didn’t hear her question, making it fucking clear they expect me to be the bearer of temperamental news.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath, then walk to stand in front of her. “We’re changing things up a little. It’s for the best if we get your friends on a jet and send them home right away.”
“What do you mean right away?”
“He means now. From here, to a boat, to the airport.” Hunt speaks up. “You need to decide if you’re staying or going.”
Her eyes flare in shock, those dark depths cutting me down at the knees. “Without going back to the island to collect Tobias?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Torian has already organized the jet.”
Her lips part and her already pale skin turns ashen. “Then I’m staying. I won’t leave Toby behind.”
Decker winces. “You’d be safer—”
“I don’t care what’s safe. I’m not leaving without him. He’s just a little boy.”
“And what about your friends?” I ask. “You’re happy for them to go without you.”
“No, Luca, I’m not happy,” she scolds. “But you’ve given me no choice.”
A tense second of silence falls between us.
I don’t want to do this to her. It’s not fucking ideal. But those eyes hold me accountable. The glimmer of betrayal cuts me to the core.
“Okay, if that’s settled, we need to make a move.” Hunter starts for the other women. “Say your goodbyes.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Have some fucking sympathy.”
“Wait up.” Decker follows after him. “I need to tell you where I hid the car.”
They leave me alone with her pained judgment. Penny continues to stare back at me, her exhausted sorrow forever tattooing my mind.
“You’re really doing this?” Her nose wrinkles as if she’s trying to dislodge the tingle of building tears. “They’re not strong enough to go without me.”
“You don’t need to mother them anymore.” It’s obvious Penny has been their rock. She was the one they turned to with questions of my sincerity. The three others took a step back at every opportunity when Penny rushed forward to save them. “Hunter can take care of it. He’ll make sure they arrive in the States safely.”
“They won’t like that.”
“Then convince them. Or go with them. It’s your choice.”
Penny’s eyes remain hardened, but the severity loses its edge. She’s exhausted. Bone-deep. “I can’t leave Tobias with those people. Not when I know what they’re capable of.”
“Then, like Hunt said, say your goodbyes.” I try my fucking hardest not to let her vulnerability wear me down. “You’ll see them again soon enough.”
She sighs, the breath of defeat punishingly brittle before she returns to her friends. She talks in a low murmur, her undecipherable words causing the women to erupt in more tears, their arms wrapping around her as they sob against her shoulders.
She clings to them, her fingers white-knuckled, but still she doesn’t break. There’re only strong eyes that hold mine as if begging for this new form of torture to stop.
She’s been through murder, death, reunion, salvation, and now a farewell all in one day, and she hasn’t shed a single tear. Not one. Any sane, full-grown man would have blubbered through the experience.
“Come on.” I start for the car. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
12
Penny
I walk on numb feet from the car to the start of the Naxos port, Luca at my side as he carries the duffels while Sebastian is up ahead, his arm wrapped around the guard who stumbles along at his side.
They gave him something. Ecstasy or speed maybe. I don�
�t know. But the effects make the man appear drunk. He’s swaying, not protesting as my brother slurs out a rendition of “Fifty-Five Bottles of Beer on the Wall” to increase the ruse that we’re not taking one of Luther’s men as a prisoner.
Yet all I see is Chloe.
I stagger along the pier, each blink punishing me with a snapshot of her suffering.
I climb into the boat as guilt consumes me, the fact I’m alive while she’s dead is so bitterly unfair.
And when I take a seat on the cushioned bench and stare at Otis, who Sebastian shoves to the floor, all I want to do is make the guard pay.
I need his dried blood under my nails, not Chloe’s.
I yearn to see the fear of death in his eyes, just like I had to witness in hers.
I crave the euphoria of hurting him, punishing him, torturing him. Because that’s what they did to her.
To all of us.
His future suffering is what I focus on as my brother starts the boat and guides us from the port. But Otis doesn’t suffer. He’s not even scared. Whatever they gave him has plastered a delirious smile on his face, the expression pure evil.
I can’t stand it.
Chloe is gone—left on the cold floor in a pool of her own blood, her soul forever trapped in that godforsaken house—and this man is blissed out.
It makes me sick.
I drag my gaze away and turn to the water, wishing the excruciatingly slow journey would pass faster. The minutes tick by like hours, the muted chuckle from the maniac on the floor a constant grate on my ears.
“You’re dead, pretty Penny. They’re going to eat you alive.”
I ache at his words. Shiver. It isn’t from fear, though. It’s from suffocating anger. Every emotion bottled inside me has been increased tenfold—the grief, resentment, hatred, heartache and sorrow. I need to make it stop, I just don’t know how.
“You’re going to wish you never defied Luther,” he slurs. “They’re going to make you pay.”
I close my eyes and pray for calm.
“You’ll beg for death.”
I swing around and lean toward him, inching closer, resting my elbows on my knees. “And who, exactly, is going to do all this to me?”
He beams a bright smile, his eyes lazily blinking. “Robert. You know Luther promised you to him. And the things he’s going to do to you…” He laughs and flops onto his back, gyrating his hips to the night sky. “You will probably love it. Just like you loved everything Luther put you through.”
I gasp. My throat constricts.
“You think I enjoyed what Luther did to me?” I can’t keep the shock from my voice.
“You give him exactly what he wants because you love the dick. We all know. Luther does, too. He laughs about how pathetic you are.”
He’s serious. He truly believes I enjoyed the torture.
“That’s why you stayed the longest. Luther loves that you love him.”
“Well, Luther’s dead.” I burst to my feet, about to plant my foot into his ribs. “Robert, Chris, Tadd, Argus, and all the rest, too. And you’re next.”
“Hey.” Luca starts toward me, cutting me off before I reach my target. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not true.” I attempt to walk around him, to get to Otis, only to have the wall of muscle sidestep into my path. “He’s wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
I shake my head, my cheeks heating. I can’t repeat the conversation. I don’t want anyone to even question what I did. How I survived. But my depraved strategy haunts me. I did give Luther what he wanted. I worked hard to make sure I was his favorite.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Luca steps closer, his hands reaching toward my arms.
I bat away his touch. “Don’t let him get to me?” I keep repeating those words in my head, but can’t quit the resentment that follows. Luca is asking for the impossible. Otis is already under my skin, his toxicity speeding through my veins.
“He’s taunting me.” My voice cracks. “He’s practically laughing at me.”
“That’s the drugs. Things will change once we get him back to Torian.”
I’m not appeased. Not in the slightest. Setting Otis on fire, one slow inch at a time, wouldn’t give me enough satisfaction. “What will you do to him?”
“Whatever necessary to get information.”
Information.
Shit.
“I-I was meant to help you find Luther’s office. And the safes,” I ramble, trying to drown out more regret. “I forgot.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this fucker to talk. He’ll give us a lead or two.” He jerks his head toward the bench seat. “You should sit down and rest.”
How can I sit when the scum of the earth thinks I enjoyed my punishments? How could I possibly rest with those accusations hanging over my head?
God. I feel so dirty. So worthless.
I turn away, dragging my feet to the back of the boat to stare across the inky black. It would be too easy to jump over the edge with one of those duffels tangled around my feet. I’d drown, the death not coming quickly or painlessly, but at least my suffering would soon be over.
There would be no more taunts of illusive freedom.
I’d finally escape this hellish existence.
“She’s a fucking whore.” Otis’s voice raises over the purr of the boat. “A dead whore.”
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around my middle, the weight of Luca and Sebastian’s judgment on my shoulders.
I don’t flinch at the thud that sounds moments later, or the cry of masculine pain.
“Ignore him, Penny,” my brother demands. “Just fucking ignore him.”
I try my best, but the alternate thoughts lying in wait are all about Chloe. About death and fear and failure.
By the time we reach Torian’s island, I want to vomit. Bile teases the back of my throat. The only thing stopping me from falling to my knees is the knowledge I won’t have the strength to get back up.
I remain in place as Otis is hauled to his feet and dragged onto the jetty. I don’t follow when Luca calls out, “Are you coming?”
“In a minute.” I need more time. Maybe a lifetime.
He nods, his focus already on retribution as he helps Sebastian drag the guard along the trail to the mansion, all three of them quickly disappearing from sight.
I stay there, alone in the silence, blanketed in darkness.
Is this what freedom feels like? Is it the tightness of pure isolation? The punishing weight of guilt? The acidic taste of failure?
Otis implied I remained in Luther’s house because they thought I was a joke. They laughed at my actions. They knew I was willing to sleep with my rapist, but they didn’t spare a thought as to the reason why. Maybe nobody else will, either.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, pressing harder and deeper, attempting to lessen the emotional torment with something physical. When that doesn’t help, I climb from the boat and use the sharp pebbles of the trail to punish me from my soles upward.
I walk with hard steps, increasing the pain. I stomp. I twist. I don’t stop until the faint shriek of male torture leaves me motionless.
For a second, my excruciating thoughts cease, my suffering placed on pause.
My breath remains trapped in my lungs as I wait for more of that rewarding sound. My heart pounds with yearning. My palms sweat with impatience.
I have to hear that cry again. I want Otis to wail and scream and blubber. I need it to help ease my anguish.
I run for the house in search of the sweet comfort, sprinting around the pool to pull the glass door wide.
Keira waits in the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sight of me. “Are you okay?”
I ignore her in my trek for the hall.
“Wait.” She hustles after me, cutting me off before I reach the archway. “What happened? Nobody has told me anything. Did your friends get to safety? I overheard Cole—”
“Three of my sisters are on the
ir way home.”
She huffs out a relieved breath. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
“Three,” I repeat. “When there were five of us. Not to mention all those who died previously at your father’s command.”
Her relaxation vanishes. “I’m so—”
“I wish I had a definitive number to give to you because I’m sure you guys have some sort of family death tally, but I gave up counting a few months after I arrived.”
“Penny, I…”
“What?” I raise my brows. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Do you feel sorry when you’re putting on your designer clothes? Or those expensive shoes? Because you know where your family’s money came from, right?”
She pulls back, clearly offended.
“And are you sorry when you’re sleeping with the man whose family you destroyed? Are you sorry when you’re fucking my brother?”
“Penny.” She raises her hands in placation. “I didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t know what was happening here and as soon as we found out we took action.”
“You found out three days ago?” I wave away my heavy sarcasm, not entirely sure why I’m trying to pick a fight. This woman means nothing to me. I don’t care what she says or thinks. All I want from her is instructions on how to find Otis. I need directions to help stop the insanity beating down on me. “Do I turn left or right down the hall to find them?”
“Please don’t blame me.” Her face crumples. “I haven’t gotten through this unscathed either. We’re all suffering. Some more than others.”
I should have triggered tattooed on my forehead for the number of buttons she simultaneously pressed. “Wow.”
“Listen.” She reaches for me, then thinks better for it, her hand falling to her side. “The perversions weren’t contained to the Greek islands. They happened at home, too. And I was a victim.”
It’s my turn to pull back, my retreat made in confusion. “What sort of victim?”
“One like you. I was only a child when I lost my innocence to a man.”
“Luther?” The name whispers from my lips.