Possess: Protect Book 3

by Ryann, Olivia

  Scar takes his hand back sullenly, then looks away out his window. Father Derrik just smiles wanly at me. He leans close, lowering his voice.

  “You will have plenty of chances to touch strangers’ pricks when I sell you to a brothel.” My surprised expression makes Father Derrik laugh. “Things are about to change for you, Rue. I don’t have time to keep an eye on you, but the brothel owner will. In exchange for your work, I will always know just exactly where you are from now on. Doesn’t that sound good?”

  The tone of his voice makes me nauseated. I turn my head away, but I’m greeted with Scar’s lustful stare. I close my eyes, my cheeks burning and my guts roiling.

  “Sir?” the sedan’s driver calls out. “The SUV behind us is behaving strangely.”

  My eyes snap open as I turn around a little, trying to see behind us. Father Derrik does the same, his lips lifting at the corners.

  “Well, well. I did not think anyone saw me reclaiming you Rue, but it appears I was incorrect. If I am not quite mistaken, that is the man who you whored yourself out to, right there.”

  I continue to twist my neck, but Father Derrik grabs my knee, fingers digging into my flesh. It’s so sudden that I cry out in pain. I forgot myself for a second, forgot that Father Derrik likes the sound of my pain.

  He doesn’t let go, but I manage to muzzle myself. He turns around and leans forward, talking to the driver. I can see the uniformed man looking back at me with wide eyes, calculating how I fit into all of this.

  “Slow down a little,” he urges. “Try to run the car into their vehicle, if you can.” He pauses, then smiles. “Remember, Frederico. I have your daughter. You promise to do what I say, I will bless her and send her back to your wife.”

  There is a fleeting moment, staring desperately at the driver, where hope blooms in my chest. He might be able to do something. But then his gaze flits down and away.

  He begs Father Derrik. “Yes, sir. Please, my little girl—”

  Father Derrik cuts him off. “Not now. Look, the SUV is gaining on us. Slow down more. Then bash the car into them.”

  Frederico slows the sedan way down, making me lurch against my seatbelt. Father Derrik grips the handle above the door, looking as excited as if Christmas has come early. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and yet, I’ve never found him more terrifying. Does he not realize that he is asking the driver to steer us into a car wreck?

  The SUV barrels into view, its windows tinted black. As it tries to overtake us, the driver yanks the wheel, bringing us fully into the opposing lane. After a second, Frederico turns the wheel back, merging us into the proper lane once more.

  Father Dryas just leans forward, unappeased. “Again! Turn the car into them again! I want to make contact!”

  Looking determined, Frederico rams the SUV with our car. It’s surreal, how startling the contact is. A metal scream, a crunch that makes my stomach hurtle to my feet.

  Then the next thing I know, we are in a totally different kind of motion. Things slow down as both cars begin to roll on their sides. A scream escapes my throat. Father Derrik’s hand digs into my knee. Everything seems weightless for just a second, flip-flopping gracefully before we land upside down. On the first time we hit, Scar turns to the door, his hands scrabbling to try to open it. He tries to take his seatbelt off at the same time. On the second, he is launched forcefully forward.

  It all happens too fast for me to react.

  Scar hits the front seat, his neck snapping instantly. I scream as we are being tossed and turned like rag dolls in a kaleidoscope, being twisted by hands too large to see. The light slowly leaves Scar’s eyes as a portion of the roof crumples inward.

  The movement of our vehicle forces Scar’s dead body to bonelessly bump against mine. I start to black out from the velocity of how fast we are spinning.

  And then all the noise just… stops. A second later the world stops spinning, the car comes to rest on its side. I squint, only then realizing that I am resting in a heap against Father Derrik. Scar lays against me, his dead eyes staring up at the crumpled ceiling.

  My eyes flick up to Frederico, only to find him dead or dying too.

  God, please let me be the only one who survived this car crash. Then I realize that Dryas is supposed to be in the other car. That stirs me to push myself off Father Derrik with weak hands, groaning at the way the seatbelt is cutting into my hips.

  I don’t have the guts to even look at Father Derrik. Instead I focus on getting the seatbelt off. It’s very hot in here all the sudden, or maybe cold. One of the two. I feel lightheaded, drowsy almost.

  I refuse to let my eyes slip closed though, no matter how much they want to. There are things to be accomplished, important stuff.

  I pause. Isn’t there? I focus on the door, on getting out.

  That’s where Dryas is. Where I want to be, wrapped in his arms.

  I try to crawl past Scar, pushing at the door feebly. I’m not sure why I feel so weak, but it takes four attempts to push the car door open. It keeps swinging shut on me as I use all my strength to climb out; obviously the doors weren’t meant to stay open in this position.

  As I am pulling myself out, a hand snakes up and grabs my ankle. From the depths of the car, I can hear Father Derrik laugh.

  “No, you don’t, little one,” he coughs, pulling on my ankle.

  I kick at him wildly. It’s only then that I glance over at the wreckage of the SUV, lying still and silent. My heart drops. My eyes start to water, thinking of Dryas behind the driver’s seat.

  An untapped resource of strength bubbles up. I swing my whole leg around, kicking viciously until my toes connect with a face. Father Derrik makes a sound like a wounded animal, which only eggs me on.

  Without thinking, I kick him again and again, until his grip loosens and falls away. Then I hoist myself out of the car, quick to slam the door shut as soon as I am clear.

  Scrambling down from the car, I realize I am panting. I wait for Father Derrik to make a noise or try to rise up from the car like I did, but he is still and silent. Turning to the SUV, I stagger over to it.

  Something isn’t quite right with my balance, but I don’t let that deter me. The SUV landed upside down, the front so smashed up that I’m sure I won’t be able to get the doors open. Approaching the wreckage from the front, I feel quite lightheaded again.

  Bracing myself on my knees, I close my eyes briefly. My head pounds. Have I heard anything since the crash? Shaking myself, I can’t remember.

  I look down and realize that blood has spread across my hips in a distinctive pattern, mimicking the seatbelt. Narrowing my eyes, I breathe for a long second. A wave of nausea hits me, but I shake it off.

  Dryas. I just have to get to him, that’s all I know.

  Pushing off my knees, I stumble the last couple of feet to the SUV. I don’t even bother trying to open the smashed up front door. Instead I crack open the back door, gritting my teeth. The door is bent strangely, resisting being opened at all.

  I bring all my strength to bear on it, widening the gap. When I finally get it big enough to crawl through, I can feel the odd sensation of blood seeping near my hips. I ignore it, like I’m ignoring every little pain and all the emotions that are piling up while I work to save Dryas.

  Crawling inside the vehicle, I’m not quite prepared for the bloodbath I see in the front seat. The air is thick with the scent of rust. Someone has bled out here, poured a literal body’s worth of blood all over everything. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, slick and dark red and still shiny.

  The scene burns into my retinas, into my mind, something that I will never forget, not until my last breath.

  A soft whine escapes my chest. No.

  It cannot be.

  “Dryas,” I slur, reaching out to him.

  There is someone in the passenger seat, but there is so much blood that I can’t make out who is who. Besides, the passenger is as still and silent as death.

  Trembling, I us
e my fingers to search for a pulse on the man in the driver’s seat, the one that I assume is Dryas. I hold in a sob as I try again and again, my whole hand getting wet and sticky with blood.

  The rusty scent curls in my nostrils, choking me. I dry heave, then heave again. I’m going be sick in a second, and it can’t be in here. This space is too closed off, too tight.

  Shooting up the gap I just created, I bend over the edge of the SUV, emptying the contents of my stomach. Then there is a flash, a glint of metal.

  I glance up to find Father Derrik burying a heavy syringe in my thigh, a manic look in his eyes. His body is soaked with blood. There is a hole in the side of his mouth, looking for all the world like an amazingly realistic costume.

  “Gotcha,” he spits. With the hole in his mouth, blood comes out on the g and the ch sounds.

  Another wave of nausea hits me. God, I am going to be sick again. I fall onto my arms, vomiting again.

  What is happening?

  Is Dryas really dead?

  Father Derrik leans over me, blocking out most of the sunlight. He grins at me, squatting down. The whole world starts to shimmy and shake. My eyes roll up in my head, and I know no more.

  * * *

  in Protect, the final book in the series!

  I wake up in the wreckage, ready to fight for Rue.

  Only she is gone, stolen away by my archenemy.

  I start to see red. No one touches my girl and expects to live.

  The deck is stacked against us. Emotions are running high.

  There is one thing that no one else realizes, though.

  Rue is mine, and I will get her back if it is the last f*cking thing I do.

  Pre-order the final installment now!

  About the Author

  Olivia Ryann is the dark romance pen name of Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Top 20 Bestseller Vivian Wood. She loves poetic phrases and bits of melodic memories. She adores dominant, hard men and soft, fragile women with backbones made of steel. She wants to put them together as often as possible, in unconventional ways.

  Follow Olivia Ryann on Amazon to stay updated!

  If you haven’t ever read any of Vivian’s work, we suggest beginning with Addiction and Obsession.

  Cheers!

  Olivia’s Works

  Provoke

  Punish

  Possess

  Protect (April 15th 2019)

  Capture

  Control

  Covet

  Cherish

  Vivian likes to write about troubled, deeply flawed alpha males and the fiery, kick-ass women who bring them to their knees.

  Vivian's lasting motto in romance is a quote from a favorite song: "Soulmates never die."

  Be sure to follow Vivian through her Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/VivianKWood/) to keep up with all the awesome giveaways, author videos, ARC opportunities, and more!

  Vivian’s Works

  Dr. Hottie

  Smolder

  Hot As Hell

  Wild Hearts

  Addiction

  Obsession

  His Virgin

  His Best Friend’s Little Sister

  Claiming Her Innocence

  His To Keep

  Promise Me

  Knocking Boots

  SEAL’s Bride

  SEAL’s Kiss

  SEAL’s Touch

  For more information….

  vivian-wood.com

  info@vivian-wood.com