Silas said nothing. Our eyes connected through the darkness. But his face brokered no emotion, mask firmly in place.
Had I expected otherwise?
For him to protest? To reach for me and plea for my safety?
The notion was so ridiculous I nearly broke into peals of laughter myself.
My suffering, my death, meant nothing to him.
I loathed the pang of pain twisting in my chest.
“Get up!”
With a hard grip on my arm and a fist in my hair, the fucker pulled me to my feet. The sharp hiss he wrenched from my lips only served to piss me off some more. Committing his face to memory, I flashed him a slow grin. He’d get his. That was a promise.
They all would.
When a long black coat draped over my shoulders, I was surprised, but as the train slowed to a stop, I knew the gesture was only for their convenience, not mine. They couldn’t very well risk dragging a half-naked woman onto the station’s platform.
“Listen carefully, sweetheart. I need you to behave until we get to where we’re going.” Again, with his fucking hands in my hair. He yanked me toward him, and I gritted my teeth. “I know the temptation to scream and the instinct to run will want to take over, but I promise that doing so will end badly for you and the big guy in there.”
“What makes you think I give a damn about him?”
He bellied another stupid laugh. “You mean the man wearing you like a goddamn glove just five minutes ago?” A chorus of laughter echoed behind him. “I don’t blame him, though, beautiful. You’re lucky boss man wants you in one piece.” A leering grin snaked across his face as he slipped a hand inside the coat and around my hip, squeezing my ass nearly to the point of breaking skin. “Fuck, baby…maybe just five minutes—”
“I’m going to kill you.” His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “It will be slow and painful, and you’re going to scream so good for me.”
Silence blanketed the cabin for several beats before the room of men broke into another round of laughter. Maybe an hour ago, I’d been resigned to whatever fate awaited me in the captivity with these men, if only for the impossibility of an escape. But now, I was damn near foaming at the mouth to have their heads—starting with the handsy fucker in front of me.
“Separate cars.” The voice belonged to a dark-haired man who’d shoved Silas out of the small compartment with a Desert Eagle pressed to the ribs. We exchanged a glance before I tore my eyes from him. What we’d done in there was a slip-up on my part. In a moment of weakness, when I’d thought I’d die, I let him touch me, own me in a way he didn’t deserve. No matter how good he’d made me feel.
It wouldn’t happen again.
Nine
LENI
“Move faster!”
Large hands pushed between my shoulder blades, propelling me into a dark room. Again, I found myself stumbling over my feet to keep balanced, but ultimately, I landed on the floor, blood boiling from all the manhandling I’d endured in one day. It certainly wasn’t something I was used to. And it left me buzzing with anxious and murderous energy, the latter clawing at the surface and begging to be freed.
I let out a loud huff of air, thoroughly annoyed with myself, when I jolted at the heavy slam of the door to my cell…or whatever this godforsaken place was.
“Stop it,” I said aloud, hating that I was so jumpy. But I supposed I had to be thankful the man had chosen to leave instead of trying to stick his hands between my legs. Considering he’d removed the coat, leaving me once again in just a thong.
I shot to my feet and paced the dark room where a small lamp on a side table was the only light source.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
How had I gone from a hunter to the captured prey? And most importantly, under whose orders? This—me being here wasn’t random. It was personal. And I couldn’t think of a single soul with enough wield and manpower to pull off something of this magnitude.
The train massacre, the dozens of armed lackeys with enough fear and reverence that they’d followed through on every explicit instruction, even when Silas and I had cut down their numbers.
Silas.
His name rolled in my thoughts, my eyes instinctively closing at the memory of every word he’d whispered and the blazing heat of his touch. I wanted to blame my weakness on the fact that I’d been faced with the fragility of my mortality…but I knew that was bullshit.
Squeezing my thighs as I sat on a filthy mattress in the middle of the room, my pussy clenched around the phantom touch of those huge fucking hands of his. It had never taken me this long to send some poor bastard off to meet their maker. If anything, I was proud of my immaculate record. The first attempt was the only one, and it begged the question: How hard was I actually trying, and why was this even a question needing to be asked?
