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The bullet skimmed past my face, slicing through a chunk of my hair, but luckily not my head. It shattered the back window of the limo, which then sped off, leaving me behind as I froze in its shadow.
Bare toes crunched painful gravel as I took a single step. Someone launched at me and my head hit the ground. A pain blasted my skull as tiny pieces of glass splintered into my hair when a heavy fist punched into my temple. That pain moved lower, skulking down my body to my breast, where he punched next.
I whimpered, and it blended into the squawking of birds.
“Don’t think I won’t bruise you, ma chérie.”
Blue suit was on me. His brutal fist delivered his threat while his lanky legs hooked around my body, pinning me down.
Harsh fingers bit into my already pained flesh, holding my dirty face close to his.
His dirty, sex-stained breath whispered over my face. He made me violently sick, smelling like the body spray Rhylie had borrowed to attend the show.
Rubble kissed my cheek.
I choked.
My grip tightened on the brass key still in my hand. I prepared to stab him with it for the second time, but he caught my wrist, slamming it to the ground. The key flew from my fingers when a stone caught painfully on my knuckle and landed nowhere near my reach.
His tongue tickled my earlobe, and I’d have pulled away if I could have when he whispered, “You have weeks before you’re sold. These bruises will fade. Don’t think I won’t fucking hurt you.”
His knuckles pelted my stomach, and I screamed, not because of what he’d done, but because of what he said...
I was going to be sold.
I’d never see Rhylie again.
I needed to see her.
I needed my sister.
The corners of my lips cracked as a thick penis stretched my mouth. The musky scent of a sweaty ball sack crept up my nostrils and dwelled there, making me feel the need to puke all over again.
Vomiting hadn’t helped. Those vile little bears and their tasteless companions had left something in my blood.
Everything hurt more than I thought it would. My warped sense of pain convinced me the bruise on my knuckle could kill me. I stared at it, hating the purple shade.
I saw time ticking away slowly. Dark colors came to life, all so menacing in the red room. Blood stains whispered to me from the floor, telling me horrible stories of girls who’d been raped where I was now being equally terrorized.
“Take it. That’s it. Take it, my slut.”
His accent was American, but he wasn’t born on the West Coast like me, and he didn’t sound like Remi, whose Georgian roots presented themselves in a hypnotic drawl.
My naked body shivered. Remi’s jacket had been stripped from me, along with my dress. All I had left was one shoe, which they’d let me keep. The smell of Remi’s entrancing fragrance still clung to my skin, helping me feel a little less lonely.
More inches pushed down my throat before he pulled back and slammed into my mouth with such force that I choked on him.
I held on to his thighs as his hips rocked, trying to control his depth. The dirty carpet stained my knees as I edged forward, trying to break free from the pain amplifying behind me.
My hair clung to tear-stained cheeks, hiding my eyes from the horror that was happening to me.
Fingers burned against my hips, dragging me back to meet the violent thrust of Damiano, who no longer wanted my mouth. He pushed inside me too hard, too fast. My hands fought with desperation, trying to push him off and out of me, but he gripped my fingers, so much smaller than his, and he bent them until my bruised knuckle loosened from its joint with a painful pop. I screamed, sending vibrations up Mr. American’s thick length, and he moaned, slamming into my mouth harder. Dirty Damiano did the same to my ass. I winced, then tensed, making everything hurt so much more.
Blue Suit kicked my ribs for making too much noise, claiming he was tired and I was amplifying a migraine.
The pain of my bruised skin ripping made me sick for what felt like the hundredth time. I choked on chunks of stomach lining as Mr. American pushed it back down my throat. My panic turned him on, and a salty wash of liquid shot down my throat with the bile.
He pulled out of my mouth, and I spat out as much as I could.
