Page 99 of Grayson’s Challenge

Rufus gripped her ankles with both hands, preventing her from kicking him again. “Oh, I’m gonna so enjoy fucking you when Abel is done with you.”

She reared up again. “Sloppy seconds? Guess you have no self-respect left.”

Angered by her words, Rufus let go of her legs and punched her in the face, this time harder. Monique inhaled and sucked in her own blood. The blood was coming from her nose, but she didn’t care. How long had it been since Grayson had sent her the last message? Had nine minutes not passed yet? Was time crawling at a snail’s pace?

“You’ll pay for that!” she yelled.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Abel appeared in the doorframe. “Are you letting this little bitch goad you?”

Rufus turned his head to his boss. “She’s—”

Abel cut him off with a movement of his hand. “Get her panties off her, now! It’s time.” He looked over his shoulder. “William, get the fucking lights in here so we can film this.”

Rufus grabbed her again. And this time she couldn’t shake him off. He pulled on her panties and ripped them to shreds. Panic suffused every cell in her body.

Grayson! Help me!

There was no reply.

“Damn it, William, I said I need the lights,” Abel yelled toward the open door, while he stepped closer to the bed now.

Abel let his gaze roam over her naked body, his mouth twisting into an evil grin. “Oh yeah, this’ll be fun.” He swept his eyes up to meet hers. “Not for you, of course, but that’s how I like it.”

“Sick bastard!”

Abel put his hands to his belt, and began to undo it.

Suddenly, a bright light streamed into the room from the open door.

“About time. You got the camera? I’m ready,” Abel announced and pushed his pants down to mid-thigh.

Nobody answered.

“William?”

Monique twisted her head to look at the door. She saw a silhouette behind the standing lamp. The lampshade had been tilted back so the bulbs beneath it served as a makeshift spotlight aimed at the bed. The silhouette was too tall for William, too tall and too slim.

“Yeah, not William.”

It was Grayson’s voice. He’d come.

A gunshot echoed in the small room, and Rufus dissolved into dust. Abel frantically tried to pull his pants up, but Grayson was faster. He lunged for Abel and tackled him to the ground. Behind Grayson several more people charged into the room, but Monique only had eyes for Grayson who was trading kicks and blows with Abel.

Abel was at a severe disadvantage. His pants were down to his knees, and he couldn’t reach his weapon, which only left him with defending himself with his claws. Grayson delivered blow after blow to Abel’s face and chest. Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. But Grayson kept punching him until his face was unrecognizable. She knew he could have killed Abel easily by slamming a stake into his chest, but he didn’t. She knew why: he needed to hurt him, and a quick death would have been too merciful..

“Monique.” It was Isabelle who bent over the bed now, placing a blanket over her naked body.

“Thank you,” Monique said.

“Patrick, the bolt cutter,” Isabelle ordered, and a moment later, Patrick handed her the tool. It took only another few seconds, until Monique was free of the silver chains.

She rubbed her wrists and looked at Isabelle. “Thank you.” Her gaze went back to Grayson, who was still delivering blow after blow. Abel wasn’t fighting back anymore. Only pained moans came from Abel’s body.

“Grayson…”

He turned his head to her, his face covered in blood—not his, but his opponents. She stretched out one hand, and with a nod at Patrick and Cooper, Grayson rose.

“Watch him.”