Chapter 48

My eyes snapped open. There was no point pretending; he knew I was awake. And sure enough, there he was, right in front of me, staring into my eyes. I flinched.

He’d switched on a dim light. I could now see a table in the center of the room, a single chair across from it, another overturned on the floor. The walls were cracked beige, marred by red stains I desperately hoped weren’t blood. And the cockroaches—so many cockroaches everywhere, even on the floor where I lay. But what I saw most clearly were the man's eyes, the chilling blue flecked with gray, fixed on me with a disgusting hunger. A black cloth covered the rest of his face.

I wriggled. Eyes wide, I screamed, my voice muffled by the tape across my mouth. My struggle elicited a laugh.

“You know, my guy asked me not to touch you,” he snickered. “But what I want to do doesn’t require much touching.”

Pure terror gripped me. I shook my head violently, trying to free my hands as I watched him remove his belt. His laughter echoed, and I hoped, prayed, wished he would leave. The darkness and the stench suddenly seemed preferable.

He knelt, belt in one hand, the other reaching out to tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

Unable to speak, I pleaded with wide, tearful eyes, shaking my head. I couldn't see his face, but I sensed a smile beneath the mask. “Your new family wronged us. It’s time we repaid them, hm?” His voice was soft, a sickeningly fake sweetness that made me want to vomit. “And what better way than by using you? I’m sorry, sweetheart, you’re just collateral damage.”

I gulped. Tears streamed down my face. Uncontrollable sobs escaped, muffled by the tape.

Fear—that’s all I felt. He hadn’t even touched me yet, but my skin burned. I prayed to any god who would listen, to stop this. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to be raped.

I watched him unbutton his pants with one hand, the other tracing my face, down my neck, and across my chest, trying to get under my loose sweater.

Everything blurred. I focused on the door, wishing it would open, that someone would save me—anyone. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing, while he finished unbuttoning his pants. I hoped that when I opened them, my husband would be there.

Nothing happened.

Nausea overwhelmed me as I saw his trousers fall to the floor, and I vomited. Somehow, perhaps because of the sudden urge to vomit, the tape came loose from my mouth, and I threw up all over his pants.

It took only a second to register: I had thrown up on him.

Chapter 48 (continued)

My mouth was free.

“HELP!” I screamed as loud as I could, ignoring the pain in my throat. “Is there anyone? HELP! PLEASE HELP!”

My scream echoed. When I looked back at the man, his eyes blazed with fury. “You little bitch,” he spat, grabbing his belt.

One second it was in his hand; the next, it was whipping across my arm and torso.

I screamed. My tears flowed. And then I screamed again until my mouth was retaped, and I was left alone with my muffled cries.

I didn’t sleep. I may have passed out, because I remember the spinning sensation as I lay on the floor, hugging my knees. My hands and legs were bound; the ropes cut into my skin as I struggled, blood trickling down.

When I opened my eyes again, I felt weak and feverish; my skin burned. My vision was blurry.

All I registered were loud noises—was the door banging, or was it in my head? My mouth was dry. Tears continued to flow, blurring my vision.

Maybe I'd been drugged again. But I heard faint voices outside the door.

“She has to be here… Damien…”

Gabriel?

I wriggled, a surge of energy coursing through me. Though my screams were muffled, I strained to make any sound at all, but the voices outside faded.

Gabriel. He was here.

And then he wasn’t. Or so I thought, until the door crashed open with a deafening roar.

My vision was still blurry, but I saw him—Gabriel. I could make out his face, hear him calling my name, see him running to me, peeling the tape from my face, lifting me into his arms. His scent enveloped me as he hugged me close, speaking incoherently.

I registered nothing except that scent—a scent of home and comfort.

My eyes closed. I knew I was safe in the arms of the man I loved.