AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’s mine.
My teeth threaten to crack from how hard I clench my jaw. Every muscle in my body is pulled taut.
“This marriage will allow Conor to launder his money through the Monroe Banks without catching the attention of the Feds. It’s happening whether you want it to or not.”
I rake my hand through my hair and then down my face. Turning away from Rhys, I tip my head back and let out a sigh.
I need to pull away now if she’s going to accept the marriage. She’s going to fight and if Conor learns it’s because of me, he’ll kill me, and I can’t have Emily feel responsible for that.
My chin falls to my chest, and I shake my head slowly. Rhys comes up behind me and sets a hand on my shoulder. He gives it a gentle but firm squeeze.
No. She’s mine.
“No,” I say firmly, shrugging him off.
“What do you mean no?” Rhys asks.
Spinning around, I meet his confused face with determination.
“She’s mine. I’m not lettin’ her go.”
He snorts and looks at me like I’m an absolute moron. “Then I guess be ready for Declan to skin you or Conor to shoot you between the eyes.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction out of me. Instead, I push past him and head to Conor’s study.
It’s about time I lay my claim on Emily. Consequences be damned.
The coppery taste of blood coats the inside of my mouth and throat. Every cell in my body screams in agony with each movement I try to make. My brain feels like it’s repeatedly throwing itself against the inside of my skull.
I’ve been fighting as much as I can against Nikolai and his beatings are becoming more violent. I’ve spent more time in The Hole than I have anywhere else. The only times I’m allowed out are to shower and when Nikolai wants me for his pleasure.
The demon that lurks, follows me everywhere now. It always hovers in the corner of every room. Watching me. Taunting me.
The demons that plagued me in the past hold no comparison to the cruelty this demon provides. It’s no longer faceless or shadowy.
Its angular face matches my own but where mine is from lack of nutrients, its face is sinister. Evil. Its voice is one that brings your nightmares to reality and it’s impossible to block out. It’s impossible to ignore the terror it forces into my body.
The never-ending Hell of this place is something no living being should ever succumb to.
My scratching has worsened. Not to mention my appetite. My stomach is in a constant state of hunger that I’ve become accustomed to. Sometimes, I don’t even notice it anymore.
The scrapes of fabric that make up the sad excuse for a dress they provided when I arrived, now sit on my body like a drape. I’m deathly.
But still, I hope. I still trust that the ghosts who promise salvation are not being deceitful.
I idly trace my forefinger along the cracks of the concrete wall I lean against. I’ve traced over markings that I can unfortunately tell are tally marks. I’ve counted them – there are one-hundred and fifteen.
Whoever made those markings spent either the number of days spent in here, or that is the total number of times they’ve been locked in. Either way, it’s horrific to think about.
The scrapped concrete digs into the skin of my fingers as I continue to trace the lines.
How many women have been here before me?
How many never left?
That thought causes me to sit straighter and more on edge. Despite not being able to see inches in front of me, I still scan the dark space.
Anxiety simmers below the surface at the thought of seeing the faces of those who were trapped here in the past.
