Page 35 of Shattered King

“Please, just let me go now.”

He chuckled, shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, this next bit might not be as pain free.” He looked at the person behind me again. “Leave us.” Oh God.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

I heard the door click shut, and I started to struggle again. Please no. Please no.

“You’ve grown even more beautiful,” he said, in way that made my skin crawl. He’d dropped the superior tone to one I was all too familiar with. The lust, the awe, the goddamn insanity clear in his voice and in his eyes as he stared down at me. I knew what came next. I also knew my mind wouldn’t remain intact if it did. I couldn’t pick up the pieces again and carry on with my life like it never happened. But if I got out of this alive, not whole, but alive, I knew I could fake it. Fake living. I could do that for Josh. I would do anything for him.

He moved around me, slowly, and I imagined the way he would have looked if Hunter had gotten his hands on him. In a sick way, it gave me strength. I had to swallow down a sudden inappropriate bubble of insane laughter. As fucked up as it was, it comforted me, imagining Hunter beating the shit out of him.

“I think I want you free for this. Are you gonna put up a fight, Lucinda? I hope so,” he said as he undid the rope at my back.

I wrapped my fingers around his pen. Yes, I’m going to fight. He’d been too excited, too anxious to get his hands on the painting, and hadn’t noticed me tucking it under my thigh. I didn’t answer, just stared him in the eye, showing him how much I fucking hated his guts. Which wasn’t a very clever thing to do, but right then, I couldn’t conceal it.

He dragged me to my feet, and without missing a beat, flung me across the room. My body hit the wall with a loud thud, knocking the wind from my lungs. I hit the floor, but immediately tried to struggle to my feet. I wasn’t quick enough. Pierce advanced. I’d gotten to my knees by the time he reached me. When his fist connected with my face, I went down again, hard, my head smashing against the hardwood floor. I covered my head with my arms as he hit me again and again, blow after blow slamming into me. I couldn’t escape it.

Suddenly, he stopped. He was breathing heavily and I could feel him looming over me. The room seemed to spin. I couldn’t pinpoint where I hurt the most because I hurt everywhere.

He got down, in my face, and hissed, “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

I whimpered as blood filled my mouth. My head and side throbbed, but I hadn’t let go of the pen. I gripped it for all I was worth. It was one of those fancy stainless steel ones, with the fine point, and I had my fingers around it so tight I was close to cramping up. His chin dipped, gaze going to my waist. He started tugging at the front of my tights, working them down my thighs.

The way he held me, I couldn’t move my arms. I grunted and thrashed. “No, no . . . no.”

It was no good. I couldn’t get my shot, and he had my tights and underwear off in seconds. He forced my legs open. I felt him fumbling with his trousers.

“I don’t like hurting you, Lucinda, you know that. This is your fault.” His voice shook. “You shouldn’t have run from me, you shouldn’t have left me.” The head of his penis slid across my inner thigh.

Whatever happened next, I would survive this, no matter what it took, I would see my son again. I turned my head, spitting out blood so I could talk. “Pierce?” It came out garbled, but he heard. His gaze lifted back to mine and that’s when I screamed. In fear, in anger, from a primal place deep inside me.

He slapped a hand over my mouth, the other lifting to my throat.

My arms were suddenly free. I didn’t hesitate. I acted. I grabbed his hair, fisting it with my left han,d and brought up the pen with my right. I swung wildly and, in one movement, slammed it into his face, as hard as I could. It lodged into his cheek nice and deep.

He fell back with a roar, rolling on the ground. His phone fell from his pocket and skidded across the floor.

I scrambled to my feet, snatched it up, and ran to the door. Besides Pierce yelling, it was silent. No Derek pounding up the hall to see what was happening.

I ran as fast as I could. I could barely see though my swollen eyes as I took the steps to the backyard. It was pitch dark now. Pierce had quieted down. I could hear his thumping footsteps on my aunt’s hardwood floors.

Oh God.

I ran to the fence and prayed there was still loose boards there, the ones I’d used to go through to the park behind her house. I yanked at the boards and they slid aside, like they always used to. Pierce was right behind me, calling my name, screaming at me to stop. I took a risk and, instead of trying to outrun him, which I knew I couldn’t do in my condition, I headed for the play area, deeper into the shadows, and crouched down. I heard the sound of his feet hitting the ground when he came over the fence. I couldn’t see him, but he was swearing and groaning.

Then I couldn’t hear anything anymore. Everything was silent, except for the distant noise of traffic. I didn’t think I could make it to the road, and I didn’t want to move from my spot and risk Pierce finding me. He was in the park somewhere, searching for me. I knew that much.

I was afraid to use his phone, in case he was nearby and saw the glowing screen. So, I waited, I don’t know how long, maybe an hour, maybe two. I was pretty sure I was in and out of consciousness.

I tried to stand, but my aching body wouldn’t let me do anything more than crawl. I dragged myself under the fort and dialed Aunt Sara’s phone, the only number I had memorized. She answered after a few rings. I could hear Josh in the background crying. A sob broke past my swollen lips.

“I need help.” I couldn’t say more—every bit of strength I had drained from my body with those words. The phone slipped from my hand and I collapsed, curling myself up as small as I could.

I was cold, so cold.

Then everything went dark.

Hunter