Rampant (Condemned Book 2)

by Gemma James

  “Every time you say his fucking name, I’ll carve mine into your body.” His knife, tainted with my blood, cut through the tape and freed me. He ripped the strip from my mouth, tugged on my arms, and forced me into a kneeling position on the bed. His large hand fisted my hair and brought my mouth to his glistening cock.

  “Need you to suck me off.” He pushed between my lips and shoved to the back of my throat. Gagging, I slapped at his hard abs, hands uselessly pressing against his stomach, but he used both fists to hold me flush with his abdomen, smothering my airway as he choked me with his girth.

  I flailed, panicking as my lungs burned, as vomit rose in my throat. He yanked out only to thrust in again. In that moment, I no longer existed. I was just a shell, a thing made up of skin and bones, my sole purpose to submit while he pummeled my holes.

  Fight, Alex! Find a way out before he completely destroys you.

  Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! I covered my ears, my frantic scream gurgling in my throat. His erection gagged me again, and I was certain I’d drown in my own vomit.

  “Oh fuuuuck, Lex…” His cum shot down my throat, but I couldn’t stop screaming. He pulled out, and I spewed cum and what little I’d eaten that day onto the floor. He wrenched my hands free from my ears, and I realized I was still wailing. Hysteria didn’t touch the state I was in.

  “Knock it off!” He brought his face within inches of mine. “What is wrong with you?”

  What was wrong with me?

  Everything. Every decision I’d made, every mistake, spawned from cowardice, led to this moment. I was too stupid to live. My gaze flickered to the bed where he’d dropped the knife between cutting me and making me choke on his cum.

  Find a way out.

  I sucked air into my lungs, catching my breath, and tramped down the need to throw up again. “Water,” I blurted, holding my throbbing head. “I’m too hot. I’m gonna get sick again.”

  He glanced down at the vomit at his feet, his mouth twisting with disgust. “It was just a fucking blow job, Lex. Does my dick repulse you that much?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No, it-it’s the drugs. I need water.” I hated the meek sound of my voice, despised it. Why couldn’t I be stronger? Why couldn’t I jump to my feet and pound my fist into his face?

  Don’t enrage the beast further. There’s only one way out, and you know it.

  That was not the same voice of hope from a few minutes ago. That was the real me, the voice of despair who gave cold, hard truth.

  Zach stood and his expression softened, as if a hint of my brother had returned. Or maybe he was sobering up, now that the frenzy had passed. Now that he’d emptied his cum and his rage into me. I tried not to glance at the knife again, and prayed he’d leave it behind.

  “Be right back.” He grabbed it and left the room, taking my hope with him. My heartbeat thudded as his quiet steps receded down the hall. Desperation corrupted my soul, and the overwhelming need to end this possessed me.

  Do it now. Before he comes back.

  I sprinted to the bathroom, shut and locked the door, then searched the cabinets and drawers for a razor. Empty. Empty, empty, empty! He’d shaved my legs days ago. Where were the razors? I found nothing, save for a lone Q-tip. I flung it to the floor in disgust then scoured the tiny space for something to break the mirror with, my whole body shaking. Finding nothing, I settled for pounding my fist on the glass, wincing against the pain, though it didn’t compare to what Zach had put me through.

  What he’ll put you through if you don’t succeed.

  A piece broke free, and I clutched it in my bloodied hand. I birthed an unknown creature inside me, one who thirsted for my death. That creature whispered in my ear and told me to turn on the faucet in the tub. Told me to ignore the panic squeezing my chest as the water splashed into the bottom. I stepped over the side, placing one trembling foot inside, before lifting the other over the rim.

  Zach banged on the door, words I couldn’t make out screeching through the wood. I couldn’t hear him above the roar in my head—the scream that told me to sink into the depths of my phobia and let it dispose of me. My back slammed against the cold porcelain, and as the door shook under his weight, I took the piece of mirror and gouged it into my left arm, dragging the sharp edge up my forearm to my wrist.

  Just like Mom.

  I wept, chest heaving uncontrollably, and a tremor of remorse went through me, but it was fleeting. I took the glass, held awkwardly in my left hand, and tore into the opposite wrist. Blood bathed my skin, hiding the faint scars from years of silently screaming.

  Free. Finally free.

  The glass fell from my fingers. I slumped into the tub, arms plopping into rising water, and closed my eyes as my head dropped against the rim. I wondered if Mom had felt this way. Had she experienced this same clarifying sense of relief? The certainty that the suffering would end soon. I couldn’t wait to see her. I ached to feel her arms around me, craved the sweet scent I still remembered, even to this day. Jasmine. God, I could already smell it.

  A crash sounded, and Zach’s scream tore me from my serenity. “Lex!”

  He lifted me from the water and held my body to his quaking chest. “Why?” Gut wrenching remorse coated that single word. I cracked my lids open, and through the haze I found his cheeks wet with grief.

  I blinked several times until he came into sharper focus. “Can’t do this anymore.” The room narrowed, shadows deepening around the edges. “Zach,” I said, my voice growing weaker. “I’m scared.”

  “No”—a sob burst from his mouth—“hang on, baby!”

  I felt weightless in his arms, jostled like a rag doll, as he strode from the bathroom. I clung to the protective shell of numbness enclosing my heart, chasing the fear away. I was safe, as light as a feather and floating toward the promise of infinite peace. He laid my drenched body on the bed, where I crashed back to Earth before he disappeared from sight.

  What had I done? I lifted my arms, rotated them so the bloody gashes in my skin faced me, and shivered. Cold. Why was I so cold? Why was I still awake? Still alive? Had I done it wrong?

  No! I couldn’t even kill myself right. I should have dug deeper.

  You did the best you could. Now use this to get out of here.

  Why was the voice back? I cried out, horrified by the desperation choking me.

  Zach returned, a phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He held my wrists to the mattress and applied pressure. “Oh God, hurry!” His shoulders shook as tears careened down his face, and the phone toppled to the floor.

  “Don’t leave me. Please…I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please don’t go. Lex?” His hands banded around my wrists with incredible strength, as if he could hold the life inside me. “Help’s coming.” He dropped his head onto my stomach, his cheek smearing the bloody product of his madness, and bawled.

  Help’s coming.

  Those two words echoed like a blessed chant. His lips moved against my skin, but I didn’t hear what he said. All I heard was his promise.

  I was getting out of here.

  Voices surrounded me, some asking questions. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were so heavy, as heavy as the weight of my thudding heart.

  “Zach?”

  What was happening? My body jostled on a thinly padded surface, and a siren blared in my ears. I swayed, and my stomach dropped. Felt like I was being transported. I spaced in and out of consciousness, and the crisp scent of pine and nature disappeared, replaced by a hint of fresh water and fish. It reminded me of being on Rafe’s island.

  Was I near a river? Where was he taking me this time?

  “Zach?” Why wasn’t he answering me?

  “Hang on,” an unfamiliar voice said. His tone was deep, reassuring. “We’re almost there.”

  I must have blacked out again, though I vaguely recalled the shout of voices, commands, and haste motion.

  “Alexandra.”

  That voice I recognized, and it drifted to me faintly. I tried
to lift my lids, but they stuck to my eyeballs. “Dad.” I moaned, turning my head and finally forcing my eyes open.

  The fuzzy bulk of his form sat to my left. He leaned to one side and brought a hand to his chin, stroking the graying stubble there. The gesture reminded me of Zach and caused a chill to go down my spine. He leaned forward and settled his much larger hand over mine. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I lost you.”

  “What happened?” My gaze darted around the nondescript room. The blinds were cracked slightly to allow the sunlight in. I angled my head back and noticed the medical equipment above the bed.

  “You don’t remember?” he asked.

  Coming fully alert, images went off like flashes in my mind. Rafe, the island, Zach…my last desperate attempt to free myself from him forever. A horrified cry tumbled from my mouth, and I lifted my arms. White bandages covered both to a few inches below my elbows, wrapping in mummy-like fashion.

  “The doctor said you were lucky you didn’t damage any tendons.” He cleared his throat. “Thank God it appeared worse than it was.”

  “How…” I met Dad’s gaze. “How did I get here?” Memories surfaced as soon as the words left my mouth. Zach sobbing his grief and remorse onto my stomach as he used his hands to stem the flow of blood, how he’d pleaded with me not to leave him. The same hands that inflicted so much pain had banded around my wounds to save me. Even now his actions seemed counterproductive, considering all he’d done.

  But he had saved me. In his own sick and twisted way, he’d loved me enough to let me go, if letting me go meant I wouldn’t die.

  “A ranger found you. You were in a cabin near Mt. Hood. An anonymous caller reported your suicide attempt, but you were alone when they found you. Do you have any memory of how you got there, or how your car ended up in the Columbia River?”

  Rafe…he’d freed me from a life I’d wanted to escape, then Zach had imprisoned me with the shackles of his obsession. I nodded slowly, looking at the last few weeks from all angles. “I remember, but it’s not what you think.”

  He gave a pointed look at my arms. “Talk to me.”

  “It was Zach. He wouldn’t let me go. Dad”—I lowered my head, facing away in shame—“he took me. It was all him. He’s been r-rap—”

  “Alexandra.” His tone made me gulp, and I felt like I was twelve again. “Your brother has been busy at our new MMA training camp in Seattle for the past month. We announced it formally this morning.”

  His words hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. He was doing it again. Protecting Zach. No doubt paying people to say what needed to be said. Fabricating photos and controlling what the media reported. I didn’t have to see the evidence—he’d done it so many times already, hiding Zach’s downward spiral into alcoholism, his erratic behavior during training sessions and events, but I never thought he’d throw me under the bus.

  His own daughter.

  You’re not his daughter though. Not by blood.

  I trembled at the voice in my head, and I hated how my eyes burned from hurt. Struggling to sit up, I hefted my legs over the side of the bed and stood. On wobbly limbs, I turned to confront him. “I can prove Zach did it. His fucking sperm is still inside me.”

  I lifted my gown to just below my breasts and put Zach’s carving on display. Glancing down almost made me retch, but I swallowed the rancid taste in my mouth. Zach hadn’t exaggerated; he’d carved his name into my skin so clearly, a first grader would be able to read it. “I suppose I did this to myself too, right? Or maybe it was another man name Zach who took me, raped me, and drugged me out of my mind.”

  Dad wouldn’t even look at me, and that pissed me off more than anything. “He can’t get away with this. I can’t keep living this way.”

  “My poor girl.” He shook his head. “I’ll get you the help you need.”

  “It was Zach!” I screamed, losing my balance and stumbling into the side of the bed. Propping myself up with both hands, I tried to ignore the bandages, but they sat between us, as if to perpetuate the deception. I hadn’t wanted to die. I’d just wanted…free.

  He rose from the chair and stepped to my side. “Get back in bed before you fall down.”

  I yanked away from his touch and climbed beneath the blanket under my own steam. “This isn’t my fault. I didn’t do this.”

  “It’s okay to admit you need help,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Your mother fought it too, but you don’t have to make the same mistake. And you don’t have to fight this battle alone. You have your family. You have Lucas. He still wants to marry you.”

  “That’s not happening. I don’t want to see him again.” The wedding was off the moment I removed his ring from my finger, before Rafe had shown up on my doorstep.

  Dad placed a palm on my shoulder, and his fingers curled, gouging bone as I tried to inch away. “I had hoped marrying Lucas would help you move past your unhealthy fixation with your brother.”

  My mouth hung open. “My fixation with him? Are you crazy?”

  He was twisting everything around, making me look like I was the one with the problem. Just the crazy daughter who’d come too close to repeating the same suicide attempt as her loony mother. He would always protect Zach. Always. Even if it meant I got trampled in the process. I bit my lip to hold back tears and finally let go of the hope he’d someday love me like he did Zach.

  I clenched my hands. “You can lie to society,” I said, proud at the strength in my tone. “Even make the media do your bidding, but you can’t lie to me. Zach kidnapped me, he raped me, and he faked my death. I’ve been his prisoner for weeks.” At his unchanging expression, the familiar pang of rejection tore through me. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he rots in jail for it. I was only thirteen when it started.” I’d wanted to tell him for so long and now that the words were out there, dirtying the air with their horror, I felt the weight lift from my chest.

  I had someone else to cover for. Someone who deserved it. Rafe deserved a full exoneration, and if stepping so close to death had brought anything to light, it was him. He might have done some very sick and questionable things to me, but he’d had eight years of his own hell haunting him, driving him to seek what he’d believed was due retribution. In some sane crevice of my mind I understood I was justifying what he’d done, making excuses because I loved him. If I had an unhealthy fixation on anyone, it was Rafe Mason.

  My father leaned forward and pierced me with the same hazel-eyed stare as Zach, though his held a shrewdness his son’s lacked. “Since we’re being so candid, let me make something perfectly clear, Alexandra. I love you. I’ve always loved you like a daughter. But you and I both know Zach didn’t sink your car into the river.”

  I opened my mouth, but words failed me.

  “Rafe did.” He straightened to his full height and folded his arms over his chest. The ink in his corded muscles appeared harsher than usual under the lighting. “If my son goes down for this, so does Rafe.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bundle of envelopes I’d never planned for anyone to find, least of all my father. He tossed them next to me on the mattress. “Judging by your own words, he matters a great deal to you.”

  I shook my head back and forth in disbelief, in denial, like a pathetic Bobblehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Dad grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard, his knuckles whitened. “You had a mental breakdown, understand me? I don’t care what you come up with, but you did this. If you want to keep Rafe out of prison, you’ll do the same for your brother.” His calculating stare knocked the breath from my lungs, and his grip tightened further. “That sperm you talked about? Rafe’s name will be the one attached to it.”

  My eyes widened, and I gaped at him, barely breathing. “How?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time, Alexandra. How do you think he was so easily convicted? Because of your word?” He thrust his face cl
ose. “Your word means nothing. I control you. I’ve always controlled you. Your bout with anorexia? That was my doing, and you fell for it like the naive little girl you are.”

  “But I wasn’t eating…” Why did my tone come out so uncertain? “I was anorexic.”

  “No, dear daughter. You’d lost your appetite after the abortion and trial. It wasn’t hard to fill your impressionable head with the idea that you had a problem.”

  I blinked, feeling sick to my stomach. “Why would you do that?”

  “For Zach, of course. While you were locked away in that treatment center, he finally yanked the stick from his ass and took the Chandler Vs. De Luca fight seriously. For a few weeks, he wasn’t thinking with his dick.”

  Footsteps sounded outside the door to my room. A doctor stepped inside, and Dad let go of my hand. The coldness in his features instantly melted. I shouldn’t have been surprised at how quickly he shifted personas, but I was. The threatening, ice-hearted bastard I’d yearned to love me since I was six was absent, replaced by the caring and doting father I’d allowed myself to believe in all these years.

  The father who’d known about Zach raping me all along. The father who’d somehow known about Rafe kidnapping me. He’d left me on that island to be tortured. I sank into the pillows and closed my eyes, too exhausted and disheartened to analyze the implications, though one thing I knew for certain.

  Abbott De Luca hadn’t just fooled the world; he’d fooled his own daughter.

  “Are you sure you wanna do this?” Jax stalled outside the entrance of the hospital.

  “I’m not sure of anything, but I can’t not see her.” Gritting my teeth, I stared through narrowed eyes at the building. News of Alex’s resurrection from the dead hit the media that morning. I was hoping she’d give me answers, but mostly, I had to know she was okay.

  “Have you stopped to consider this stunt might land us both in jail?”

  “Yeah, I have. Look, you don’t need to go in there. I won’t blame you for taking off.” We’d cleared the air the other night, but things were far from settled between us. He still hadn’t moved back into the cabin, and the subject of Nikki seemed to have moved into taboo territory.