Oh, God.
No.
This can’t be happening.
They carry me over to the same bed I woke up on yesterday morning, and while two of them secure my wrists in the restraints, the other two do the same with my ankles. Once I’m immobile again, they all stand back, circling the bed as they stare down at me with hungry eyes. One of them—Coe, judging by the name on his cut—smiles as he flips the butterfly knife in his hand back and forth, his gaze eying the contours of my body.
“You get first dibs, Coe,” one of the other men says, and I spare a quick glance in his direction, noting the name on his cut. Sandman. I do the same with the other two men—Hijack and Butters—committing their names to memory so when I finally do get out of here, I can make sure these bastards pay for what they’re about to do to me.
“Let’s get started, boys,” Coe says, nodding and switching places with Sandman on my left side. Once there, he gives me one more once over before he rights the knife in his hand and slips it into the collar of my shirt. Sucking in a breath, I do my best to remain still as he slices through the material of my shirt, cutting it down to my belly button before pulling it away.
“Free one leg at a time and get her pants off,” he orders as he pulls the shirt back to reveal my bra. Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and try desperately to block it out as Coe pulls the cups of my bra down and grabs my breasts in his hands, squeezing hard. “Shit. Those are fucking nice.”
Tears pool in my eyes, and I squeeze them shut tighter as two of the other men release one foot from the restraints before pulling that leg of my pants off. Once I’m tied up again, they move to the other and pull my jeans the rest of the way off. The cold metal of a blade kisses the skin at my hip, and in the next moment, my underwear is being yanked from my body.
“Goddamn,” someone mutters, but I refuse to open my eyes to figure out which one said it. Time seems to stretch as I wait for the next awful thing, my heart hammering in my chest and each breath ringing in my ears. But when I feel the bed dip, I can’t stop the sob that slips past my lips.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
I jump as a hand grips my waist, followed quickly by another hand on each of my breasts. Naked heat washes over my skin as Coe wedges himself between my legs, and I bite my bottom lip so hard that a copper taste greets my tongue. Then I feel him, his cock pressing against my entrance, and every muscle in my body tenses, waiting for the awful moment he plunges inside.
“Stupid fucking girl,” he growls, rubbing the tip of his cock against my clit, and my traitorous body responds to the sensation, sending a rush of moisture between my legs. “You should have just given Geno what he wanted.”
No.
Never.
He thrusts forward, invading my body, and despite the pain of his intrusion, I don’t scream or cry out. I want to. God, do I want to, but my resolve is back in full force, and I won’t give any of these bastards the pleasure of breaking me.
Even though my soul is lying in a million little pieces.
CHAPTER 9.5
Hermoine
I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been here.
Four, maybe?
No . . .
Five, I think . . .
I honestly can’t remember since I’ve tried to block out as much of my time in this room as I can, unable and unwilling to relive everything that’s been done to me. There are moments when I lose all hope of ever leaving this shithole, where it feels like I’ve been here for an eternity, and yet, it’s never going to end. Like maybe I died when Geno hit me over the head out behind the coffee shop, and this is my version of hell. Although, what I did to deserve this punishment, I still haven’t been able to figure out.
Geno’s men—Coe, Sandman, Butters, and Hijack—each took their first turn with me, using my body for their own personal pleasure and as a fucked-up punishment for me days ago. And just when I thought it was all finally over and I could take a breath, they started again for round two, three, and four. While one was inside me, the other three were positioned around the room, watching my torment as they smoked off their last orgasm or shoveled food in their mouths. Food I was not allowed to have. The only positive in the whole ordeal is that after the first couple of times, I think I went into shock, and my body went kind of numb, so I didn’t feel every single agonizing moment of them violating me. It was like an out-of-body experience, almost like I was hovering above the scene and looking on as they had their way with me for . . . two days, I think.
I can’t be sure.
Between the four of them using me like their own personal fuck doll and the general neglect of my needs, I was pretty out of it by the time Geno showed up again and asked me if I was willing to give in yet, if I was finally ready to say the things he desperately wants to hear from me. Thank God I was coherent enough to refuse him. It’s idiocy, I know, but it’s the only thing I have left at this point, and I can’t allow him to take that from me. Not after he’s already taken everything else. I will hang on to the one simple thing I still have control over with every ounce of strength I have.
But I have to admit that resolve is wavering.
I suppose that’s the point of all this—to break me down so much that I give in to his demands. And right now, I’m just thankful that Geno wasn’t here to take advantage of my weak moments when I begged his men to call him back to the room so I could say the words he wanted to hear. Thinking about it, though, my resolve seems to come back with a vengeance whenever Geno steps into the room. I see him, and I want to be strong. Even more than that, I want to spit in his face and tell him to go fuck himself. Of course, I’m terrified of what he would resort to if I did, but that doesn’t lessen the urge. And as bad as I was at keeping my thoughts to myself when this all started, I’m even worse now after everything I’ve been subjected to, and I don’t know how much more of this I can endure. I want to be strong, but I’m so fucking scared that I’m going to cave the next time he asks me to admit that he is my father.
Even if he is the most pathetic excuse for one I’ve ever seen.
He finally came back sometime yesterday and saw fit to make sure his men fed me and that I wasn’t going to die of dehydration before he could force the words he wanted from my lips. After ordering them to untie me and give me my jeans back, he went out again and came back thirty minutes later with a burger and fries for me. It was the first food I’d had in days, and I wolfed it down faster than I’d ever eaten anything before in my life. Then, he was gone again. And although I’m not still tied to the damn bed, make no mistake, I am still very much a prisoner. Coe, Sandman, Butters, and Hijack are my prison wardens, and I can’t even go to the bathroom without one of them following me into the room to watch me pee.
A phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I lean back against the headboard of my bed as I watch Coe answer the call.
“Yeah, boss?”
He’s quiet for a moment before going to the window and pulling the curtains back to quickly scan the parking lot, and my stomach drops.
What the hell is going on now?
I pull my legs to my chest and hug them as the silence fills the room, louder than any of the screaming I’ve done during my time here. Whatever is happening now, it’s different than anything that’s happened over the last however many days, and as fucked up as it is, I’d rather stick with the hell I know than be subjected to something new.