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He points it toward me, and a red light shines showing it’s recording. “Now, strip!”
“Fuck. You.”
“All in good time. Strip her.”
The man holding me pulls, tugs, and rips at my clothes until I stand naked in front of my enemy.
“I won’t let you repeat what Paul did to me.” I hug my body, hiding it from the camera. Shame, thick and oily slides down my skin. So many years have passed since I last felt this way. Knowing my husbands could witness my humiliation doubles the unpleasant sensation.
“Don’t worry, this time you won’t have wine to blame for your shitty memory.” Tomasso closes the gap between us to stand over me. “And with the men about to run through you, it won’t be anything like the care Paul showed you.”
I swallow a flood of bile rising from my esophagus to choke me. I won’t go down without a fight, but I need to time things right.
“Ah, Zio Tomasso, looks like I’m right on time.”
My heart spikes at the sound of Paul’s voice. I squeeze the barrette in my hand, welcoming the slight pain of its hard edges digging into the soft flesh of my palm. I don’t have Riu or my husbands to keep me grounded while I struggle to breathe and my vision starts to narrow.
“Damn, Sheila.” Paul sneers. “Seeing you like this pisses me off so much. The things I would do to you.”
“Kill yourself.” I force the words through my tightening throat.
“Zio?”
“I’ve got you, nipote.” Tomasso grabs my face and points it toward the camera. “Smile for yourhusbands.” He chuckles before dragging me toward the bed.
I kick and try to fight free. I manage to break away, but Paul intercepts me. I freeze the moment he lays his hands on me, allowing him and his uncle to drag me to the bed. Tomasso holds me down while Paul cheers him on from the side.
I want to keep fighting, but I get weaker and weaker as the seconds pass.
Not again, I scream in my head, too weak to fight. The only thing stopping me from using the blade hidden in my barrette and ending my torment is the red light documenting everything for my husbands to see.
CHAPTER 37
Takeshi
“When I get my hands on our wife?—”
“Keishi, don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’ll take one look at her and fold.”
I glance at the camera above our heads. We’re in the same spot we spoke to Lakeshia minutes ago.
Shinji rips through the cake masquerading as a false bottom for the box of cookies Lakeshia brought us. “How much time do you think we wasted pretending her ploy worked?”
“Too much fucking time. If not for Katsuo’s warning not to eat anything, we’d be knocked out for a long time. At least the mouthful we had didn’t do what she intended.”
Shinji piles a half dozen shurikens and handleless knives on the floor. “Katsuo for the win.” He holds up a lock pick with a triumphant grin.
“Let’s go. Before those assholes…” I stop, unable to repeat the filth Tomasso threatened.
Shinji rises with a wince, his injuries slowing his reaction time.
“When we’re on the other side of this, I’m spoiling everybody with a vacation.” I knock the camera askew, pointing it away from the door.
“Looking forward to it.” Shinji unlocks the door and peeks through the gap. “Way’s clear.”
I hand him half the weapons and take the lead.
Raucous voices lead us to a former break room. Seven men in various states of undress, some with beer bottles in hand, some with guns, joke, but their subject matter has me seeing red.
