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Flashes of feelings, sights, and smells tore through my bliss like bullets.
The scent of fish.
The sting of plastic cable ties cutting into my wrists.
A gun digging into my temple.
A cock burrowing into my mouth.
And two thick, rough fingers, belonging to unseen hands, shoving into me from behind.
My stomach lurched, and I pushed away from him, afraid I was going to be sick. I scurried backward across the cold tiled floor until my back hit the cabinets behind the display case. Then, I pulled my knees to my chest and stared at Damien’s horrified face, which I was sure mirrored my own.
“Clo?”
My breaths were coming loud and fast. I could hear them, but the air wasn’t getting in. It wasn’t getting in!
“Fuck, Clo. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have … ”
Tightening my arms around my knees, I cried out in pain when my hands closed around my wrists. Shaking, I lifted one arm and saw a deep red slice encircling it and stripes of dried blood trailing from my wrist to my knuckles.
A scream lodged in my throat.
Damien said something else, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything but a chorus of men shouting at me in Russian.
Lifting my other hand, I found a bloody gash matching the first. It throbbed under my sudden attention, alerting me to the fact that this was no nightmare. This was real.
It had all been real. The attack in the field. The helplessness. The terror. Liv and Sophie. Mr. McCormick. The dehumanization. The violation. Damien speaking Russian. Damien killing.
And killing.
And killing.
“I was too late.”
His voice pulled me back to the present, but my heart was still pounding, my throat still suffocatingly tight. I tried to focus on his face. I watched it harden in the shadows just before the side of his fist shot out and slammed into a cabinet door.
I jumped, squeezing my eyes shut and hugging my knees as I willed myself to breathe normally.
“I was too fucking late!”
I shook my head. It was the only reassurance I could give him. I wanted to smile, to put on a brave face, but I couldn’t move. And when I finally opened my eyes, all I could see were my bruised legs disappearing into a pair of boots that looked just like theirs.
Damien was one of them.
And not just because his father had made him join. There was a dark, violent need in him that I’d seen in those men, and I was seeing it all over again as he stalked toward me on all fours. His wrathful gaze roamed over my injured body as his lip curled into a sneer and his muscles rippled with every stride.
“You weren’t too late,” I sputtered, scooting away from him in vain. “I’m fine. I just—”
Grabbing one of my forearms, Damien lifted it into the air as his glowing gray eyes bored into mine. “Fine?” He shook my arm in anger. “Does this look fine?” Then, he lifted it even higher and pointed at my blackened ribs underneath. “What about this?”
“Damien, stop it.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“You saved me before anything happened.”
“They beat the shite outta you, Clo!”
