Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I’m torn between wanting to cower at his feet, begging him to spare me and fighting back with every ounce of strength I have.
These men are ruthless. You have to fight.
I grit my teeth, and not wanting to show just how scared I am, I bite out, “Rosalie.”
I was named after my mother, who died giving birth to me.
My captor rubs his cheek against the wild strands of hair hanging around my face and shoulders, then takes a deep breath.
Dear God.
Shit.
My muscles tighten, even more, my fingers digging into the fabric covering the forearm wrapped around my neck.
“Hmm. Little Rose. You smell mouthwatering.”
NoNoNoNoNo.
There are worse things than death, and for the first time, the fear of being raped flares through me like wildfire, destroying the meager hope and sense of safety I had left.
If you don’t fight, you will not survive today. They’ll do horrible things to you before killing you.
My muscles lock up, and my jaw is clenched tight as I growl, “Fuck you.” I try to slam the back of my head against his nose in the hopes of getting free, but he easily avoids me, letting out an amused chuckle.
My nails dig deeper into his forearm, and I become highly aware that I’m wearing a pair of tight shorts and a tank top that exposes my midriff. No bra. No shoes. I might as well be standing in my underwear in front of all these men.
I only wear this outfit when I’m in the privacy of my own bedroom. I’d always cover myself with my oversized sweater whenever I needed to go to the kitchen for a snack.
Every inch of me trembles from the merciless waves of terror washing over me.
“I need plastic bags,” the scary man standing by Grandpa says.
“On it, boss.” One of the other men quickly leaves the living room.
Why? Are they going to suffocate us? Jesus.
My eyes dart around, and I count eleven men. There’s no sight of any of our guards.
I look at Uncle Ricco and notice the blood staining his clothes. His color is ashen.
No.
The man doing most of the talking slowly stalks toward Uncle Ricco. I desperately shake my head when he pulls a massive knife from where it’s strapped to his leg.
“I’m going to assume Ricco is not only your nephew but your right-hand man, right?” he drawls as if he’s bored.
“This is between you and me,” my grandfather says, his voice an angry rumble.
The man grabs hold of Uncle Ricco’s jaw and presses the gleaming blade to his throat.
Oh, God. No!
An emotion unlike anything I’ve ever felt before snuffs all the light from my life as I watch in absolute horror how my Uncle’s throat is brutally sliced open.
Flashes of Uncle Ricco holding me at Dad’s funeral, buying me a gift to make me smile, telling me a joke to make me laugh – the memories drain the blood from my face as I watch his own spill from his neck.
A scream is ripped from me, and I start fighting with every ounce of strength in my body.
“Fuck you!” Grandpa roars.
My horror-stricken gaze darts between Uncle Ricco, who’s bleeding horribly, and Grandpa as another man kicks him. When Grandpa falls onto his stomach, the man steps on his back to keep him from getting up.
“Fuck you. I’m going to fucking kill you,” Grandpa roars, his face red with rage.
Uncle Ricco makes sickening noises as he tries to breathe, his blood soaking his front and staining the carpet.
No.
No.
No.
Drained of life, my body sags in the hold of my captor, my eyes glued to my dying uncle.
I don’t realize I’m crying until my captor’s tongue flicks against my cheek, catching a teardrop. His voice promises nothing good for me when he taunts, “I’m going to enjoy her.”
Unbearable devastation and raw hopelessness soak deep into my bones, making my body feel twice as heavy.
“Please,” Grandpa begs. “She’s a child, only seventeen.”
All my life, I’ve been protected.
I’ve only had two boyfriends. The furthest I got was second base. Our hands didn’t even stray beneath our clothes. I probably would’ve given Matt my virginity if he didn’t cheat on me with Kaylee. Uncle Ricco spent night after night holding me while I cried my broken heart out.
There were always comforting arms to hold me.
I’ve never had to fight for anything.
I’ve never been exposed to violence.
I’ve never seen death.
Until today.
The man holding me starts to move, dragging me to where the front door used to be. It’s only a hole in the wall now, debris lying everywhere.
“I can wait until she’s eighteen. Watch her blossom like the little rose she is before making her my whore.”
God. No.
My terror intensifies sharply, and I fight against his hold on me, desperately shrieking, “Nonno!” My grandfather is my only hope.
“Please,” Grandpa cries. “She’s just a fucking child!”
My captor yanks me over the rubble and out into the night that’s starting to fall over the mansion. The soles of my feet sting from the debris digging into them as I’m forced to walk.