Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“What the fucking hell have you done, Kassen?!” Storymaker bellowed, finding his voice after gaping like a fish at his deceased guards.
I spun to face him, loving the presence of my family behind me. “I did what you all deserved.”
“You’ll fucking pay for this.” He raised his hand, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “Go to bed, all of you. You’ll be suitably punished in the morning.”
A few stifled moans sounded behind me. Conditioned psyches needing to obey. “There won’t be any punishment, guys,” I whispered. “You don’t need to fear him anymore.”
“You do. You have so much to fucking fear.” Storymaker stepped toward us, his eyes on the gun I held. He’d always prided himself on training us so well, he didn’t need to carry a gun to keep us afraid.
Bet he wished he hadn’t been so arrogant now.
“Don’t move,” I seethed.
I was the gatekeeper to his hoard of slaves and there was no fucking way I would let him lay another finger on them.
My head tipped down, my eyes locking onto my hands.
Blade or gun.
Both weapons waited to be used.
The blade would be more satisfying, but the gun would be more efficient.
I wanted out of this place.
I wanted my family free.
Raising the gun, I smiled icily. “Your disgusting club and membership have been revoked, you sick son of a bitch.”
A cold laugh echoed over my shoulder.
Jareth.
I would recognize his barely restrained violence anywhere.
And then, I squeezed the trigger.
Not just once.
Not just twice.
I emptied the entire fucking clip, bullet after bullet, filling our diabolical master with lead.
I ended the entire establishment.
I turned to my family.
I relished in our hard-won freedom.
But then, the world turned hazy, blurs spinning into colors, colors morphing into a new reality.
The library solidified around me.
One night traded for another.
No more blood. No more death.
Just a woman with blond hair, hazel eyes, and a rope wrapped tight around my wrists.
Horror came from nowhere.
Thick, black, unbearable horror.
It’d all been a dream.
A dream where I’d liberated us only to wake and find I hadn’t.
No!
Christ, no.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t do this again.
I couldn’t endure another night, another rape, another moment.
“NO!”
Poisonous air strangled my lungs.
My vision blurred in and out.
Frenzied fear made me swim in nausea.
I fought the rope.
I motherfucking panicked.
For a second, all I thought about was myself. I was selfish, absorbed, hysterical at my own impending pain.
But then, terror drowned me.
Them.
Nyx and Quell, Wes and Zanik.
Maybe this wasn’t a dream, after all.
Maybe I’d waged war on our guests.
Maybe I’d killed a few.
But, regardless of my success, I’d failed.
I’d failed because I’d forgotten one.
I’d missed a guest.
One was alive.
She’d caught me, trapped me, and was ready to make me scream.
I couldn’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Did she have the others?
Were they about to be ripped apart for my crimes?
No.
I can’t let that happen.
If anyone would pay, it was me.
I wanted to snarl, to curse, to tear her into pieces. To end her.
Instead, I permitted a lifetime of obedience to wash over me.
If she had my family, my life was over.
I had nothing left.
Nothing.
I bowed over my knees.
Eight years of conditioning. A decade of loneliness. A lifetime of pain.
I’d done everything I could and it wasn’t enough.
I’d tried.
I’d died.
I was hers.
And she was about to ruin me.
CHAPTER SIX
“KILL ME, BUT I beg you, please don’t hurt them,” he whispered. Broken, bowing, utterly submissive in every way. “They had nothing to do with it. It was all my idea. Cut me, whip me, starve me, do whatever you want, just promise me you won’t touch them.”
I stood frozen.
My tiredness evaporated.
Shock and dread made me tingle with awareness. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t good. The man I’d fought with, slept with, and tried to save no longer existed.
He’d switched.
Changed.
His head remained lowered, his forehead almost touching his tied hands. His shoulders trembled, but there was a fierceness in him too. A burning fury that was barely hidden beneath his resignation and unbelievable defeatism.
I didn’t have a clue what to do.
How did you deal with someone who’d buried everything about themselves under the skin of someone you’d never met before?
My knees locked as I clamped both hands over my mouth. An ugly sob threatened to break free. I wasn’t equipped to help this man. I could make this situation a thousand times worse if I said the wrong thing.
“Say something!” he snarled. “Tell me you won’t lay a finger on any of them. Please!”
I jumped.
I couldn’t stop my tears.
Taking a jerky step toward him, I dropped my hands from my mouth and prepared to do whatever he needed. I would give anything, absolutely anything, to take away the stark terror draping him and replace it with peace.
“Please...” he moaned, swaying in place and once again fighting the rope. Two sides of his personality warred. The dominating man I already knew struggled to be free, but the humbled prisoner kept begging. “It was all me. I did it. You have to believe me. Leave them alone.”