Page 21 of Sweet Torment

How dare she wear his scent like a trophy.

If I hadn’t made it clear enough, he’s MINE.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Rebecca sneers, her face screwed into an ugly expression.

Katie spits on me, and it lands on my cheek. The feel of it sliding down my face makes my stomach lurch. “Did you really think you could break into our home and attack us without consequences?”

I told you to leave town.

“You fucked up my face,” Liz adds through gritted teeth. “And my hand might never work right again.”

Good.

I stay silent. Let them talk. My mind is a machine as it hunts for opportunities. Four against one. I have to consider the collar. Whitney might have a remote in her pocket. They’re drunk and sloppy. That’s my advantage.

“You know what?” Katie pulls out scissors. The metallic snip-snip sound next to my ear is unnervingly loud. “Let’s make her ugly.”

She grabs a fistful of my hair and starts hacking at chunks while I thrash. I feel the whisper-light touch of loose pieces falling across my cheek and onto the bed. Each snip sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with pain. She gets three or four handfuls before I am able to jerk my head away.

It’s just hair. Just hair. Just hair. The mantra doesn’t stop the violation from seeping in.

But it feels like just one more thing taken from me against my will.

Whitney fumbles with a huge kitchen knife as she struggles with the bandage on her hand but manages to get a grip. The blade catches the light, and I wonder if I will make it out of here.

“Did you think you would get away with it?” she asks, tracing the blade along my jaw. The steel is freezing cold against my skin. “They were mine for five years. I was attached.”

Attached.

She presses harder until warm blood runs toward my ear. The sting barely registers. “Most of the time, they were perfectly obedient. Then you steal Weller and convince Daddy to take the rest of them away from me too?”

She struggles to pull out her phone, casting to the screen on the wall. “Want to see what you missed?”

I glance at the screen for half a second. Katie with Freddie, her hands in his golden curls while she⁠—

No.

My stomach heaves. I look away. It feels like a major violation of his privacy. But I can’t unhear the sounds.

Don’t listen. Don’t let it in.

Every sound is another splash of gasoline on my inferno of rage. Each moan and grunt makes my muscles tighten.

“Look how good they are together,” Whitney narrates, shoving my face down and forcing me to look. Her nails dig into my scalp. “This was what, three months ago, Katie?”

“Four,” Katie corrects, grabbing another handful of my hair, and then I see pieces fall. “Right after that charity thing.”

“Their fathers and I have already worked everything out,” Whitney says. “They agree I’m the best match and the future mother of their children. This is just a little bump in the road. The Montgomery name plus theirs? It’s the only acceptable outcome.”

Another clip begins to play on the screen. She’s with all of them now. I squeeze my eyes together, but she claws at me to force them open. Her nails leave burning trails across my eyelids. “I don’t want you to miss the show,” she whispers.

But my mind is elsewhere as my lungs seize, the air in the room going toxic and unbreathable. Hot bile surges up my esophagus. My throat constricts, and I vomit violently onto the floor.

“Oh my god!” Katie shrieks, jumping back. “She fucking puked everywhere!”

“You disgusting bitch.” Whitney grabs my face, fingers digging into my cheeks. “You don’t like this? Wait until you see what I made Owen do to Freddie.”

Please, no more. I can’t take it.