Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
He shifted his gaze across the floor and found Lucia staring back. Silent tears spilled from her eyes, and her mouth trembled with heartbreaking fragility. Her arm still lay outstretched toward his, fingers twitching to close the distance.
His chest heaved as he strained toward her, extending useless joints and failing to erase the inches between them. Goddammit, he just needed to touch her. Fury rose above the anguish, hardening his body into stone.
“Make your demands, Badell.” He flexed his jaw, battling the never-ending pain that dotted his vision.
“One more trial.” Shiny, blood-splattered shoes paused inches from his face. Badell lowered to a crouch and rested a hard, cool hand against Tate’s jaw. “Van will take his pleasure in your body. Then you will take pleasure in his. Come inside him, allow him to release in you, then I’ll know how far you will go.”
“No-no-no-no-no…” Lucia chanted in a scratchy, tear-choked voice.
The hammering bang of his heart drowned out her cries. He was sprawled on the floor with his cheek against the concrete, frozen in place, silent and breathless as his vision lost focus.
Deep down he knew it would come to this. Badell wanted a trial, one Tate was sure to fail.
Hot moisture dripped from his unblinking eyes and traced a sodden stripe across his face. Such a strange sensation, that warm soundless trickle. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried.
He would never be able to perform, let alone ejaculate. Not with a mutilated body. And not with Van.
But it was better than the alternative. If Van were forced to rape Lucia, Tate wasn’t sure he’d ever get back up again.
Was that why Van had volunteered so much information about Tate’s time in the attic? Perhaps he’d predicted Badell’s plan for Lucia and steered him in a different direction. It took a sadist to know a sadist. Van probably saw the blood-smeared writing on the wall from a mile away.
Shifting his gaze, he sought the man who’d become his friend.
Van sat against the wall with his arms shackled, head tilted back, and eyes closed. Tate didn’t have to be a mind reader to interpret the conflict twisting his face.
If Van participated in this, it would be a betrayal to Amber. If he didn’t, they were all dead. He and Tate were probably dead regardless. But Lucia had a chance.
With her cheek on Van’s thigh, she silently shook with full-body tremors. Tate gave her intense, meaningful eye-contact that said all the things he couldn’t. I’ll kill for you. Die for you. You’ll be okay. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.
Van lowered his head and shared a look with Tate, a miserable moment of commiseration. Then Van acceded with a single nod.
Tate closed his eyes, steeling himself. He felt completely and utterly defeated, his body a broken, worthless mess. He could handle the physical damage. He could survive it. It was the emotional blows that would bring him to his end.
He needed a mind-over-matter pep talk. If he were brave enough, the strength of willpower would help him overcome. He’d survived ten weeks beneath Van’s thrusts. He could endure a few minutes, or hours, however long it took.
Reciprocating, however, was something entirely different.
“I found your limit.” Badell stood and leaned against the wall. “It seems you won’t, in fact, do everything—”
“Yes. The answer is yes,” he whispered. “Send her out of the room.”
Badell straightened, his brow lifting in shock before he emptied his expression. “She’ll witness your undoing. That’s nonnegotiable.”
He stepped to the door, opened it, and spoke quietly in Spanish to whoever waited on the other side.
With a hard swallow, Tate returned his attention to Lucia, focusing on their hands and the dismal inches that separated them. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to see this.”
Her mouth moved, and her chest rose and fell with the effort to speak, but nothing came out. She directed her eyes at her fingers, where they stretched toward his, and returned to his gaze.
“Shh. I know.” His breathing accelerated, and he fought to calm himself down. “I’m here. No matter what happens, I’m with you. Only you.”
The door closed, and Badell prowled toward him with three armed guards in tow. The men went to Van, two aiming rifles while the third unlocked his shackles.
Once free, he pulled his arms in front him, rubbing his wrists.
Please, Van. Don’t do anything stupid.
Van thought about it. Tate saw the calculation in his silver eyes as he glared at the weapons pointed at his head. Then he turned to Lucia and lifted her fully onto his lap.
The guards kept their guns trained as he stood, taking her with him. Badell didn’t stop him as he carried her closer and placed her on the floor, on her back, aligning her body against Tate’s.
Thank you. Tate edged toward her with deliriously painful movements until the only thing separating them was his injured arm.