I’ve heard it all before. The ‘I’ll change’ speech. The ‘I love you’ speech. The ‘I swear I won’t hit you again’ speech. None of it matters because he is the kind of man who only speaks in lies.
If it means be getting out of this room, I’ll pretend to believe him.
“I love you too, Kendrick.” Oh, the lie is a bitter taste of poison on my tongue. Love, love! I hate him with every breath I take. I wish he’d die a miserable death, but if I want to live, I have to push that hatred to the side and swallow my need to see his eyes roll to the back of his head so I survive another day. “I would love to get out of this room and be with you. I promise, I’ll be what you need.” I know the song and dance. He needs a compliant woman, a woman who will agree with everything he says; a woman who never speaks up and voices her opinions.
I know how to do that.
He trained me, after all.
Kendrick leans down and presses his lips against mine. The only way I ever get through it is imagining he's Sebastian instead. I open my mouth and allow his tongue entry. I want to throw up when he groans down my throat. His lips are firm, a bit chapped, and rough. It makes sense. Dry and abrasive like the rest of him.
“Your lips are so soft. I’ve missed your kiss,” he says.
“I’ve missed yours too.”
He leans over the bed and grabs my foot, the one with the ankle cuff. He gasps when he realizes how raw and torn the flesh is. “My sweet, why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to roll my eyes. He doesn’t care about any pain I feel. I don’t understand why he’s acting so unlike himself today.
“Because I understand why I am here, Kendrick. I needed to learn my lesson.”
I see the shock and pride in his eyes when he realizes he broke me, just what he wanted. I’m not broken. I am smart.
“I think you have, my sweet. I think you have.” He unlocks the chain from my ankle and gives my foot a light massage. “I think I’ll also give you a bath today. I’m going to pamper you.” When he gets into this kind of mood, it reminds me of the time I fell in love with him all those years ago. I know the mood would be short-lived, but I need a break from his cruelty. I have to play the game to win, and one day I will.
“I would very much enjoy that. Would you bathe with me?” I flutter my eyelashes, knowing the answer.
“You little fox. I knew you missed me; I just didn’t think it was that much.”
Oh, if you only knew how much I want to drown you in dirty bath water.
“Of course, I am going to join you. Like I’d ever miss the chance to see your beautiful body on display.”
I feel a stab of guilt and betrayal toward my love for Sebastian. I’ve never kissed him, never did anything physical with him, but I feel like a cheater, even if my situation is desperate. Being what Kendrick wants affords me my life. I hope one day, Sebastian will forgive me for doing what I have to do.
“Come, let’s get washed up and eat breakfast.” The monster holds out his viscous hand, and I slide my palm against his, readying myself to walk out the room for the first time in months. His eyes peek over to the desk, and the happiness flees from his eyes when he remembers one of the first objects I drew.
His brother.
It earned me weeks of recovery lying in bed, sore and aching, but I never stopped drawing Sebastian; I just hid the sketches where Kendrick wouldn’t think to look. He marches over to the desk and picks up the stack of paper, his anger brewing to the surface.
But I was smart. I ‘learned’ my lesson
I drew him instead.
“You drew me?” he asks, a bit stunned.
“I draw what I am passionate about,” I state, not telling him that every stroke of the pencil against paper was harsh with tears trickling down my face.
He lays the paper on the desk and saunters over to me, kissing my forehead. “I believe we will be okay, my sweet. We are true love.”
No.
We are the breeding grounds for hatred.
And I truly hate him.
Chapter Three
SEBASTIAN
Wreckage of crumbling, broken concrete has me tripping with every step. The thick curling black smoke burns the back of my throat. My eyes sting from being dried out from the flames licking the walls and floors. I lift my arm to block the smoke from my mouth and search the rumble for my friends.
“Jaxon!” I call out, waving the harsh cloud of soot away from my face to try to see two inches in front of me. “Grayson? Heaven!” Silence. Panic claws my throat when none of the guys answer. “Owen? Someone fucking answer me!” I roar, inhaling the fog created by flames instead of oxygen.
The vault stands epically untouched and shining. Unbelievable. The explosion must have come from the walls. They left that little note out of the blueprints. I couldn’t believe I didn’t find an anomaly like that.
A painful groan comes from my left.
Or maybe it was my right.
I can’t tell where the sound is coming from since parts of the building are still falling into pieces. Fire crackles, blazing along the big chunks of rock that used to make this warehouse.
Another groan sounds. This time it’s closer, and I wipe my eyes against my shirt sleeve. I need a break from the smoke and heat for a second.
“Who is it? Guys? Come on, talk to me. I can’t see shit!” A creak comes from above me, and I tilt my chin up to the ceiling to see it caving, splintering as the strength of the drywall gives way. “Fuck,” I curse under my breath, diving as far as I can in front of me, my arm rubbing callously against a jagged piece of debris. My body buzzes with pain as I land on the ground just as the ceiling collapses, sending a ton of smoke and dust in the air.
“Sebastian?” a broken voice comes from besides me, filled with pain and confusion.
“Owen? Owen!” I scramble to my hands and knees and climb over the chunks of cement. I can barely see Owen through the smoke, but he’s moving his head and trying to get to his feet. He has a significant amount of blood dripping from his head, pooling down his neck and staining his shirt.
When I get to him, I wrap an arm around his waist and help him up. “Are you okay? Anything broken?”
“No, my head just fucking hurts. I think you might have been right. I shouldn’t have touched the vault.”
I snort from his attempt of lightening the mood. “No shit? What gave it away?”
“Have you found the others?”
“No, they won’t answer me.”
“Shit,” Owen says the word that has been constantly filtering through my mind since I saw the explosion on camera.
“Sebastian?” the light, airy tone of Heaven carries its way through the smoke. Even in pain the guy sounds happy.
“I’m here. Owen is too,” I inform him. “Talk to us. Where are you? Can’t see anything because of the smoke.”
“I’m against a wall,” he coughs. “My leg hurts really fucking bad, guys. I can’t move it.”
Owen and I find Heaven leaning against the wall. His left leg is pinned between the floor and a chunk of stone. “Go look for the others,” Owen says. “I’m fine. I’ll get Heaven out of here. We need to get out before our cover is blown and this place collapses.”