by Gemma James
My nightmares came back, flooding my conscious mind with details I hadn’t been able to grasp until now. Something had seemed so familiar about Cleft. His smell especially—the odor of sweat and tobacco combined with whatever musky cologne he favored.
Now I knew why. He’d raped me in prison. Though I didn’t remember it with clarity, I knew it was true.
He folded his hand around his dick. “You’ve got two options. You can suck me off, or Brock can have some more fun with your girl. Your choice.”
I couldn’t breathe. Oh my fucking God. There was no choice. Not even a little.
His goons loosened the chains keeping me upright, and I collapsed to my knees, right in the middle of my vomit. Goon number one grabbed the back of my head and held me in place while the other forced my arms in the air again with a jerk of the chains.
The moment was surreal, like an echo from a nightmare that twisted my insides. I opened for him, focusing only on memories of Alex—on what it felt like to wrap my body around hers, how hot and wet she’d been when I dipped my fingers between her thighs. The whimpering sound she made in the back of her throat when I possessed her mouth.
Cleft pushed his cock against my tongue, and I gagged.
Memories flashed behind my eyes, crashing through the barrier like a dam busting. The rapes in prison, how deep his hatred for me ran, though my psyche refused to stir up the reason why. It was there, tickling the edges of my memories, but that sick feeling returned and scattered the path to recollection, and my heart thumped so fast, I thought I’d black out.
He pulled back, and his dick slipped free. “Fuck this. I wanna fuck.” A quick nod to his men sent them into motion. They released my hands and shoved me to the floor. I struggled in my vomit, my limbs little more than deadweight. Someone grabbed my legs, but I kicked behind me and pushed to all fours.
Laughter. Footsteps.
I crawled to my feet, body swaying, and faced the three of them. With a roar, I launched at them, but the manacles around my ankles tripped me up and sent me crashing to the cement again. Pain shuddered through my injured shoulder, and I bit back a groan.
The four of us grappled on cold concrete, grunting under the fight to get the upper hand. One of them slammed my face into the ground, and stars swam in my vision for a few seconds. Strong hands wrenched my arms behind me and shackled my wrists together.
“I’m gonna enjoy this.” Cleft tugged my sweats down with a too-familiar laugh. He settled his bulky frame over me and straddled my thighs, just like in my nightmares, only this was real.
Happening all over again.
They held me down by the shoulders, pressed my ankles to the ground. Eager fingers slid between my ass cheeks, separating, seeking entrance. Cleft nudged his erection against my backside, a moment away from shoving it in, when the door burst open.
“Get the fuck off of him!”
I twisted my head, and my whole world shattered, everything logical lost to insanity. Jax stood in the doorway, the light from the hall casting him in silhouette, though I’d known it was him the instant he’d spoken.
“We’re just having a little fun,” Cleft said.
“Fun’s over. Fucking him isn’t part of the plan.”
5. ALREADY BROKEN
Alex
Muscle Guy watched while I showered. His brother, the tall and lanky one, had left us alone. I braced myself against the grimy tile, my body still weak from the beating. The pipes overhead whined under the pressure of spitting out water, and the tepid spray sluiced over my head, slid down my stinging skin, and turned pink by the time the rivulets hit the drain at my feet.
The weight of his stare pressed on me, and the metal collar he’d locked around my neck threatened to choke me. He’d attached a chain to the hook at the center of my throat, and he held the other end in his large fist.
Every few seconds, he pulled on it to taunt me.
The water wasn’t warm enough to stop the chills from tickling my skin. His strikes ran through my head on constant replay, especially the part where he’d managed to break what I thought had already been broken. I’d lost control of my fucking bladder.
If I’d given in and sucked Lucas’ cock, would they have spared me this? Would my rebellion cost Rafe his life? The thought of what they might be doing to him tormented me, and I held my breath, unwilling to allow air into my lungs.
“Time’s up,” he said, voice echoing off the tiles.
Startled, I shot out a hand toward the faucet and shut off the water on the first try. Palming my breasts, I turned around. The room was one big shower stall with several showerheads on each wall, but it was empty save for us. His gaze dipped to my stomach, and he raised a brow.
“Wonder what your man thinks of that carving. Should I add my name to the mix?” He came at me, each step a calculated move of predator stalking prey. He raised a hand, and I froze, resisting the urge to flinch. I thought he was going to strike me again, or worse, but the door to the shower room opened, offering a perfectly timed interruption. A man I didn’t recognize dragged a girl inside by the same type of collar that circled my neck. She crawled on her hands and knees, and her wide eyes—a startling shade of blue that rivaled the sky in the dead of summer—zeroed in on me. Huge drops fell from her thick lashes, and a plea trembled from her lips.
“Please…”
“No talking!” The guy gave the chain a swift yank, and her blond head jerked forward. He yanked her up by the arm and pushed her to the wall, then switched on the spray. She sobbed, her arms wrapping around her naked body as the water drenched her hair.
“Got a new one, huh?” Muscle Guy said.
“Yep, but she isn’t gonna be much fun. She’s already half broken, and I haven’t even touched her yet.”
She shrank away from him with a strangled cry, as if his words alone were enough to cause her physical pain. Sickened by the terror on her face, I turned away, but she started screaming. I whirled, my heart in my throat, expecting to see the guy hurting her, but her stricken gaze remained locked on me.
“Wh-what happened to you?”
My backside flared in pain at the reminder of Muscle Guy’s cane, and he smirked before I could say anything.
“I want a shot at her before you start training,” he said. “She’s exactly the type of pussy our base wants to see on film. She’ll put up a real whiny fight.”
“No can do. She’s a virgin. Boss doesn’t want her on film. She’s going to auction.”
Her huge eyes begged me, as if she thought I could save her from a fate worse than a fiery pit. I bit my lip, hating how helpless we both were. They were going to ruin her—an innocent girl who barely looked eighteen.
And Rafe and I…
Lucas had his own agenda when it came to us, that much was clear. But we’d also seen too much in this place. There was no way they’d let us out of here alive.
“Well that’s a shame,” Muscle Guy said as he pulled me toward the door by the chain. “I like blondes.”
“You like ‘em all, as long as they scream for you.”
A shudder tore through me, and I vowed that I would never scream or cry for him again.
“On your hands and knees.”
“What?” I blinked at him.
“Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said with a hard shove until I dropped to my knees. “Crawl like the slut you are.” He herded me back into the tunnel, naked, wet, and shaking from the chilly air.
The door to Lucas’ office was closed, and silence blasted from the other side. He yanked me in the opposite direction and paraded me down the passage like a dog, my knees scraping the dirt ground. After passing several doors, he stopped and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket before jamming one into a lock. “Be a good girl and wait on the bed.”
He pointed toward the claustrophobic darkness, and my hesitation cost me a kick in the ass. Pain scorched my backside, eliciting a wounded cry as I crawled inside. He latched the other end of the chain to an anch
or in the ground before slamming the door shut. My breath came in panicked gasps as I pushed to my feet and searched for the handle. There wasn’t one. My trembling hands smoothed over a panel where a doorknob should have been.
Hysteria flooded me, vibrating through my legs until they buckled. I fell to the ground and slinked across the dark space, chain clanking through the rocky dirt. My head hit the metal frame of the bed, and I planted a fist on the thin mattress to hoist myself onto it. Finding a blanket bunched in the corner near the wall, I wrapped myself in the scratchy material, curling in a tight ball on the cot, and wished I could wither away to nothing. If I could only erase the last hour as easily as the blood had vanished from my skin, then maybe I could fucking breathe. But that blood lingered, if not physically, then mentally.
So did the image of Rafe. He’d cried, actually shed drops of horror from his beautiful eyes. The man who’d at one time left me naked and cold in a cage, who’d fucked me after paddling my ass, had cried at witnessing my pain.
Palpitations seized my heart. Were they beating him? Killing him?
I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t. If I started, I wouldn’t stop. I bit into my lip, hard enough to puncture, and licked away the metallic taste. I should have done what Lucas demanded. If Rafe died because I’d refused to suck a dick…I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
I wouldn’t be able to live at all.
Why had I chosen that moment to take a stand? For years, Zach had made me cower and submit, yet the one time Rafe needed me to do it for his life, I hadn’t been able to.
Why was this happening to us? We should have run away together when we had the chance, gotten far away from this place and this madness and this cruel fate that kept unleashing its sadism.
I clutched the blanket to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut. And I prayed. To whom, I wasn’t sure. To anyone listening.
Please get us out of here alive.
Whereas I’d wanted to end the pain not long ago by taking my own life, now I ached for the opposite. I wanted to live in peace with Rafe, hungered to submit my body and soul. I wanted to grow old with him, wanted to heal him…and maybe find a way to heal myself.
I’d gladly exist as a vagrant beside him, belonging nowhere or to anyone except each other.
My lids grew heavy, and as images of a life I’d never have flickered in my mind’s eye, I allowed a fitful sleep to claim me. I was back in the cabin with Zach, body trapped under his punishing knife and held prisoner by his thrusting cock.
Except it wasn’t Zach. Rafe took his place, one hand around my throat while the other drew the sharp blade into my skin.
“Mine,” he said. “You’ll never escape the pain of being mine.” He rammed into me with one last grunt and spilled his seed, head thrown back, green eyes hooded while he watched me watch him. A breath hissed between his teeth.
“I’m going to destroy you, sweetheart.”
The sound of my screams startled me awake. I shot up, hands rising in front of my face to protect me. Overwhelming darkness closed in, and my breathing escalated. The screaming continued, but I wasn’t the one screaming.
“Please! Stop! I wanna go home,” a shrill voice sobbed. A spine-tingling crack sounded on the other side of the wall and another shriek rattled my bones.
I tumbled to the ground and crawled toward the sound with quaking knees. She let out another horrific scream. I jerked to my side, hands covering my ears, body folding into the fetal position. But it wasn’t enough.
I couldn’t breathe. Dust from the ground clogged my nose and throat. I removed my palms, and her screams ripped through my eardrums. Unbidden, I dug my fingernails into my forearm, scratching down the scar from my desperate attempt to break free of Zach. My fingers glided over the ridges circling my wrist from when the men had restrained me.
From when they’d beat me…just like they were doing to that girl.
They were stripping her of who she was, shattering everything she’d known to be true until this point, this irrevocable moment when her life would change forever. Each strike, each cry that left her lips was another step toward submitting to a fate she couldn’t fight. To a fate that would make her wish for death.
I was glad Zach had destroyed me, and not some faceless stranger. At least he loved me in his own sick way.
God. Even that observation proved how twisted my head was. I wasn’t normal. I’d become too immune to the evil that lurked in people. If I could trade places with the girl on the other side of the wall, I would.
It was too late to save myself, but she was innocent. She was fucking innocent and I couldn’t do a thing to help her, couldn’t even tell her she wasn’t alone. Her screams continued, and I buried my face in my arms to drown out her pleas for help.
6. BAD BLOOD
Rafe
“If you ain’t gonna fuck him, why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I said so.” Jax’s tone brooked no argument.
Cleft pushed off me, and I let out a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thumped across the floor toward Jax. “Just because you weaseled your way back in, don’t think you’re calling the shots now.” He jabbed a finger at his chest. “If you don’t do him, I will. One way or another, his ass is getting fucked and filmed. He’s fucking Rafe Mason. That shit will sell.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not filming him. It’s too risky. You know my old man will side with me.” Jax glanced around the room. “Besides, you’re full of it. I don’t see you filming shit here.”
“Just warming up.” Cleft rolled his shoulders. “Uncle Luke won’t have a problem with a little fun.”
“You’re not gonna touch him.” Jax curled his lip. “So back the fuck off.”
“This is bullshit.”
“No,” Jax said. “The mess in here is bullshit. Fucking clean it up.” He pulled a hand through his blond hair and moved toward me, his feet pounding the ground in angry stomps. “Get him on his feet. Move!” he yelled when the guys holding me down didn’t budge. They scrambled into motion and dragged me upright. Blood rushed to my head, making my vision fuzzy as one of the goons bent to release my ankles. The other stepped behind me and freed my hands.
“You don’t have the balls to do him,” Cleft said with a taunting edge to his tone. “Even though you want to.”
“He’s off-limits. That’s all you need to know.” Jax glared at the two holding me up, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Get those filthy sweats off. We need to get him to the showers.”
One guy bent and tugged my pants further down my legs. “Lift your foot,” he said.
I did so, my head in a fog, and blinked several times, but the whole room and everyone in it wobbled. This wasn’t happening. This was another nightmare. After he pulled the sweats free from one leg, I raised my other foot and nearly lost my balance. He tossed the soiled clothing to the side and grabbed me by the arm.
Jax nodded toward the door. “Get moving. Cleft can clean this shit up.”
Cleft grumbled his dissent as they ushered me out the door and down a long tunnel. We passed a guy hauling a frail blonde by a leash, her skin damp and pasty. As she crawled past, she lifted her tear-filled eyes—eyes that grew huge as she took in my presence. She didn’t even look old enough to graduate high school. I could only imagine how terrified she must be, and seeing a guy my size, naked and barely able to walk under his own steam, must have sent a devastating blow to her hope for survival.
But I couldn’t think about that girl. Not now. Not with all the chaos raging through my head.
Jax’s familiar stride echoed behind us. The fact that it was familiar at all was shocking enough, but to wrap my fucking head around the rest of it—his presence here and the implication of his words back in that room—I couldn’t do it.
Thoughts bounced around my head, but I couldn’t catch a single one, couldn’t even form the words to convey the total mind-fuck this situation was. Words refused to leave my tongue. They were stuck there in surreal silence as
Jax and the others pushed me into a room full of showers.
“Get lost,” he told the other two goons as he switched on the water.
I leaned against the tile, arms bent and forearms flat against the cold surface, and tried to gather my strength. As soon as the door shut behind the men, I lunged for Jax, hands going for his throat. But the floor tilted under me, and instead of attacking him, I used his shoulders to hoist myself upright.
“How the fuck are you behind this?”
He shoved me against the wall. Water washed over us in a chilly stream, dripping from my hair and soaking his T-shirt.
“You’re wasting your energy. They dosed you with the same shit you gave Alex when we took her.”
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” I said through clenched teeth. I pushed against his stocky frame, but he wouldn’t budge. Fucking drugs. It was the only way they’d keep me down, and they knew it.
Jax had known it. The fucker had shared a cell with me for…I didn’t know how long, but he’d been there, and he’d been in my damn house, living under the same roof.
He’d helped me take Alex.
He’d gotten me a fucking gun to protect her.
Why?
“None of this makes any sense.”
“Remember when we talked in your cellar?” He lowered his voice, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “I said I’d always have your back.”
“Like you have my back now? Don’t do me any fucking favors.”
He retreated with a sigh, and I went after him, my rage propelling me across the slick floor too fast. Slamming into him, we plummeted to the ground, and his skull hit the tile with a jolting thud. Veins pulsed at his temples as he fought me. He gained more ground each second, his muscles bulging under the exertion. With a roar, he shoved me off and rolled on top of me, straddling my thighs.
“Calm the fuck down before they come back in here,” he said, face inches from mine. “You need to trust me.”
“You’re crazy. You’re behind this whole thing. They fucking hurt Alex. They destroyed the island. You think I’m gonna trust you now?”