“I…uh, I’m fine.” Ella eyes his gun. At least he hasn’t taken it off her. I step closer to him when she sweeps her gaze over me. She knows me.
She’s seen me before.
Her gaze travels over my dress, and her bottom lip trembles.
“You’ve seen me before,” I say firmly, stepping in front of Ken. “You know who I am.”
If she’s gone pale, I can’t tell. She’s wearing at least half an inch of cover up on her face. Her lips are painted dark red, and the false eyelashes are almost too heavy for her lids.
“Dolly. You’re Dolly,” Ella says, rolling her shoulders back. Maybe she’s trying to look tougher for me, make me think she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Ella.” There’s a question lingering in Ken’s voice. “Where’s your dad?”
Ella’s throat works as she swallows. “He’s busy.”
Busy can mean a lot of things. But when it comes to Dragonmate, only one definition fits.
“Doing what?”
I cut off Ken and step toward her, holding my knife up to her throat. “You know me because you’ve seen the videos.” I search her features. Tears well in her dark eyes. “If you’ve seen them, it was with him, wasn’t it?” I press the tip to her skin, but hold back putting pressure. I don’t want to nick her—yet.
“Dolly—” Ken stops when I put my hand up. I’ve never denied him authority over me, but this is different. This place. I know this place. The smells of sweet cigar smoke remind me.
“My father brought me here once,” I say, the memory hitting me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. “And Cathy’s house. I’ve been to these places for playdates.” I was much younger. Not even high school age yet.
Ella nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yes. That was a long time ago.”
A muffled cry comes from behind the closed door just off the kitchen.
“It’s a bedroom. That room is a bedroom.” I take my knife away from her throat and hurry to the door. Another scream, high-pitched and full of terror, escapes as I throw open the door.
A sound wrapped in rage leaves me. A naked girl, young…too young for the horror of this place, hangs from a hook in the ceiling. Red welts crisscross her chest and belly. My eyes focus on her chest. This girl… I gag a little. She doesn’t even have breasts yet.
The tips of her toes scramble for purchase on the linoleum flooring, but she’s pulled too high. She’s practically dangling.
“What the fuck!” The fat man turns his red face on me, holding a single tail whip in his right hand. His shirt is untucked from his black trousers. The sleeves have been rolled up.
The girl raises her head. Her long blonde hair covers her face until her chin’s high enough for me to see her eyes. Wary and cold. Tears drip down her cheeks, rolling into her open mouth.
“Dolly.” Ken’s voice penetrates the loud thumping in my mind.
“How long have you been here?” I ask the girl.
She coughs and shakes her head, still trying to find purchase on the floor.
“Get her down,” I whisper. When no one moves, my voice comes out in a shriek. “Get her down!”
“Who the fuck—you!” George Romero’s eyes widen when Ken moves farther into the room.
Ken’s gun points to Romero. “Don’t move.”
Rendered speechless, he stands still. Ken walks around me to the girl, behind her.
“I’m going to get you down.” He stuffs his gun back into his pants so he can use both hands.
Romero’s eyes flick to the doorway. At the minimum, he’s carrying an extra hundred pounds. He’s not going to outrun anyone today.
But just to be sure he understands he’s not leaving, I put myself between him and door, my knife pointed at him.
“Daddy?” Ella sobs from behind me.
“You stupid bitch,” Romero bellows, spit flying from his mouth. “I knew he’d be a problem. I knew it!”
Ken? He knew Ken would be a problem.
The girl is drawn down to the floor once Ken gets the restraints off her wrists. Bringing her arms down to her sides makes her whimper. She’s so frail and small. Ken looks past me.
“Get me a fucking blanket, Ella!” he orders.
“Don’t you help him!” Romero screams. I envisioned Dragonmate to be taller, thinner—more billboardesque. Instead of a tall businessman, he’s a round toddler throwing a fit.
“A blanket, Ella, or I’ll start gutting your father right here.” I take a small step toward Romero. I’d be happy to start, but the girl needs to be in a safe place, she needs to be tended to, and having to watch what I have planned might upset her.
Ella scrambles off behind me and returns with a light blue cotton blanket. Ken takes it from her and helps wrap it around the girl who’s now sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, shivering.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. I know I sound hard, but she doesn’t need caressing. Right now, we need to get on the bottom of the situation, deal with it, and then we’ll care for her. She’s been tough. There’s healed scars on her arms. This wasn’t her first session with Romero. If she lets that wall down, it might crumble. And we need answers.
“Sarah Damons,” she says in a weak voice.
“How old are you?” I ask. Romero’s lips turn white at how hard he pinches them together, but he keeps quiet.
“Eleven,” she whispers, then tucks her head into Ken’s chest.
“Has he…” I pause a moment to swallow back the bile rising in my throat. “Has he touched you? Other than the whip.”
“Daddy,” Ella whispers behind me. Whatever strength she may have had has been lost while standing in this room. Maybe this was her room once. Maybe she’s gone through this before.
Too many victims and only one life for him to lose. It’s not fair.
“He…yes.” Sarah breaks into a sob. The dam has burst.
“You’re safe now, Sarah. But you can’t be in here, okay?” I say to her, taking my eyes off Romero for a moment. Little Sarah looks up at me. Swaddled in the blanket in Ken’s lap, she looks even younger. “Can you stay in the living room for a minute? It won’t be long. I promise. Then we’ll take you home to your parents.”
“Dolly. Do you want to stay with her?” Ken helps Sarah up from the floor, concern underlying his question. Seeing her like this has brought back pain from the past.
“I need this done.” My voice trembles.
Ella moves into the room, to Ken, and Sarah pulls back, a new cry emerging from her mouth.
“You took her,” I accuse. “You brought her here, and then you brought him too.” If she was a victim once, she isn’t now.
“I…” Ella’s eyes flash to her father, tears spilling over her lids. “I…he said if I didn’t—” she bows her head. “If I didn’t, it would be me.” The last of it comes out in a raw whisper.
Ken snags Ella’s hair and pulls her away from Sarah. “You set me up too?”
“No!” Ella brings up her hands to protect her face. She doesn’t know Ken well enough. She doesn’t know he wouldn’t hit her there.