Page 23 of Lucian

The kind of neighborhood she lived in was not one that would involve police.

She silently wished she had popped a Xanax with her orange juice that morning. It might have made this situation easier.

Not five minutes later, loud bangs pounded on her door. Jordyn ignored it. Will called her name once, following it with something degrading as he usually did, and then proceeded to demand she open the door or he’d do it for her.

Go ahead, she thought, suddenly calmer than before.

Maybe in the short time period of hearing the motorcycles and the men coming in on her apartment, Jordyn realized there were only so many things they could really do to her. Hurt her, sure. Scar her, definitely. Take things that weren’t theirs to have, yeah. The thing was, those realities didn’t scare her, not really. Jordyn had long since learned that was a fact of life. In one way or another, what you had and held dear was eventually taken away.

The only thing Will couldn’t take from Jordyn was her mind, her spirt, and her strength.

Those were all hers.

He couldn’t ruin them if she didn’t let him.

Jordyn didn’t flinch when her apartment door was kicked open. She simply dropped the remote to the table and sighed. The landlord, as shoddy as he was, wouldn’t be impressed by that.

“What’d I tell you, bitch?” Will asked, his words melting together in a slur.

Jordyn stood, watching the four men file into her apartment and half-assed close her door. Or as good as it could get, considering they’d broken part of the frame. She didn’t bother to consider the other guys, or who they were. Likely a bunch of Will’s lackeys, and nobody too important. Instead, she focused entirely on Will.

The man was disgusting, as he’d always been. A good fifty pounds overweight, in need of a serious shave, and a lack of personal hygiene that showed on every inch of his skin. Also, Jordyn was positive the man was drunk, high, or a mixture of both.

Not a good sign when it wasn’t even noon.

“Morning, Will,” Jordyn said quietly, offering him a sweet smile she knew would only piss him off.

“Where’ve you been, huh?” Will demanded loudly, spit spewing from his mouth. “Ron says you haven’t been working, you ain’t been dancing, and I got a bouncer bitchin’ about some bastard shoving a gun in his face for trying to take what you should be giving, anyway.”

The other three men circled Jordyn, but she didn’t move away. With their arms crossed and dark eyes watching her, she knew it would be pointless to try.

“Is that what you’re doing now when you ain’t working, babe?” Will waved at her with one hand, his other coming down to unbuckle the large leather belt with metal studs he wore. That one action was the only thing Jordyn might have showed an ounce of fear for. “Hanging out with Italian scum, letting the mafia boys fuck you when you won’t even let a club man touch you?”

Jordyn licked her lips, trying to find words that might help, but coming up with nothing. “I don’t know those men.”

“You’re lying,” Will growled. “Heard my boys talking about how much the one seemed to like you, and how much attention he was paying to you. Is that what you want, to be some little fucking mafia princess? An Italian’s whore?”

The sound of Will’s belt sliding out of the denim loops was daunting.

Suddenly, every one of Jordyn’s muscles seemed to react at once. She would take a beating from this man, let him degrade her and call her whatever names he wanted. But he would not touch her—certainly not rape her.

Jordyn turned to run, though she wasn’t sure where. There was a man in every direction, and Will was only three feet away from her.

It didn’t make a difference. She didn’t get far.

The crack of the leather snapping against her back turned Jordyn’s body to ice. The thin, spaghetti strap style top she wore did nothing to cushion the hit of the belt. Pain ricocheted from the middle of her back, up to her shoulders, and across her lower jaw. It seemed like every metal stud in the belt embedded into her skin. The worst pain came from the side of her face and Jordyn was sure it broke the flesh.

She hit the floor with her knees, holding up one arm to shield what she could of her head and face from a second hit.

The belt cracked down across her shoulder, arm and side the second time. The third, which came just as strong and swift as the first two, snapped along her bare thighs, just below where her cotton sleep shorts ended.

The agony was unbearable. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t time between swats to move and the belt slapped over her body in the same places repeatedly, breaking what skin it could touch, and bruising and swelling what was covered by clothes.

Once more, Jordyn felt the vomit rise, but there wasn’t any holding it back now. Tears fell as bile spilled.

She didn’t beg, though. Not for him to stop, or to ease up. Not to leave her alone, or get out of her apartment.

She didn’t even ask why he was doing it.