Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I thought back to that day, though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I remembered the men who had whipped me. I could see Derek’s big frame appearing there outside my cell, and felt the overwhelming urge to make him leave me there. I saw my father and the man holding the gun to his head. I could recall grabbing the gun Derek had placed on the floor for me, and I remembered shooting my father.
Another man, though?—one that had helped us? There was no help in that place. There was no help in hell. But wait, I vaguely recalled another figure standing there. He’d led the way out of the basement and then disappeared to unlock the doors.
Oh god, the doors. He was the man who controlled the locks? He was the one who’d unlocked my cell to let those monsters in over and over again? He was here, in Derek’s house? No, please no. He couldn’t be here.
“Please, I don’t want him here. He was there. He saw…everything. He let them…”
“Scar, I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. Michael—that’s his name—he hated what happened to you. He wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do, not until I showed up there.”
I nodded, trying to accept what he was saying, but it wasn’t just that he hadn’t stopped them. I wasn’t stupid—they would never have let him interfere. But he knew everything. He’d seen everything. He’d watched my wretched body respond to the things they did to me.
“I know you don’t want this, but there’s more I have to tell you. OK?”
“OK,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was acknowledging he had more to tell me, or that I was OK to listen—I wasn’t sure about the latter.
“Your mother had a sister. Her name was Alicia. Marcos took her—eight years ago. Before that, Alicia was married—to Michael. In a roundabout way, that makes him your uncle.”
My uncle? I dimly recalled my mother talking about a sister, but I’d never met her. I had an aunt?—married to a man who was apparently my uncle? I’d never had an uncle before, and I didn’t want one now. It made it worse, didn’t it? It wasn’t some stranger who’d borne witness to my depravity. It was a man who’d been married to my own flesh and blood.
“You don’t have to come meet him if you don’t want to. I just thought if he was going to be in the house, you’d prefer it, so it didn’t feel as much like a stranger was here.”
What Derek was saying made sense, but he didn’t understand. He still thought there was nothing dirty or wrong about how my body had responded. He didn’t understand that of all the things they did to me, that was the worst. The wounds on my body, they would heal, but the ones in my soul, the ones that had torn bigger with every orgasm they drew from my body, it felt like they would fester forever.
They’d changed my perception of myself. I’d always been terrified of turning into a whore like my father had accused me, but I’d always fought it, too. I’d known that part of me existed, and worked damn hard to keep it buried down deep.
If I was being brutally honest though, in that dungeon, I’d stopped fighting. It didn’t take long before that twisted part of me looked forward to it because there was no pain when he forced me to feel pleasure. No whips. No fists. No tearing me apart. For those few minutes, there was only pleasure.
How could I face the man who’d seen me become a whore? Would he scoff at the feelings I had for Derek? Would he think someone like me was incapable of loving a man with every piece of my heart when I had willingly given my body to someone else?
I was about to tell Derek I didn’t want to see him, that I couldn’t possibly face him when another thought—a much more important thought—struck me. Derek had said this man was here to help. Help, how? Help Derek confront Mateo Lopez? Or help get me far away from here? If it was the latter, I needed to meet this man. I needed to get to know him—fast—so I could figure out exactly how to manipulate him into ignoring Derek’s plan.
I couldn’t get on that plane. I needed to follow Derek so I could help him. I could distract Lopez’s men, or even Lopez himself. I could shoot them if I needed to—I’d shot the man who’d been my father for years without hesitation when he’d threatened Derek’s life. So, I knew I could do this. And this man who knew all my darkest secrets was going to help me.