And it’s not moving.
I gasp for a shot of oxygen before a wave of nausea crashes into my gut and before I can wretch all the contents out, I hear Ozzy growl, “Fuckoffme.”
Fuck off me.
Fuck off me.
Fuck off me.
Through blurred vision, I need Ozzy. But when I find him, he’s already in his own hell.
His black jeans are down his thighs, revealing black tattoos as he thrashes and kicks like a wild animal to keep the sick fucks at bay from violating him any further.
I’m helpless to help him because any normal plan I may have acted upon would only make it worse.
I kill Ramsey, they rape Ozzy.
They probably murder Torin.
I’m dead, but who cares at that point?
“Let’s start,” Ramsey drones through my inner turmoil and disgust before I hear Torin hiss. “Take a seat.”
“Don’t do this, Rams,” Torin says again, almost sluggishly, and I notice he’s having a hard time keeping his head up now.
“All will be over soon enough,” his brother claims, patting his head gingerly before taking his place behind Torin again. “Let’s do this, Miss Astor.”
“I got it!” a man shouts excitedly, earning the room’s attention as I find some sick prick waving Ozzy’s jeans around.
“Good,” Ramsey says stoically. “Get him warmed up for me.”
I point my gun at the motherfucker who’s still spinning my husband’s jeans around like he won a prized animal at a carnival and instantly get him to stop when he notices my aim. “You touch him, and I’ll fuckin’murderyou, bitch.”
“Haven,” Ramsey imparts evenly. “You use a chamber that’s not atyourhead, it counts in my favor.” I don’t answer him, and I don’t move, giving Ozzy the opportunity he needs to get back on his feet because he is almost vulnerable on the floor, but he’s still held by his captors. “If the chamber is empty when you pull the trigger, it counts toward me. Remove the gun, Haven.”
“My nameisn’tHaven, motherfucker,” I grind out. “It’s Bay Astor. I’m not related to you, and I sure asfuckdon’t recognize yourfatheras mine.”
“Whatever,” Ramsey mutters. “Proceed, men.” They start at Ozzy again, and I pull on the hammer of the revolver in warning. “You use those bullets, you watch me fuck him. Then we start again. “
It takes everything in me to pull my attention off Ozzy and start this fucked-up game. Torin is sitting there with his head tucked into his chest again and something’s wrong.
“What did you give him?” I ask, settling back down in Pretty Boy’s lap, and crooking his head up with my free palm.
“Something to keep him calm,” Ramsey replies. “And immobile. Any sign of you and he’d fuck up my plans and get himself killed.”
Torin’s golden eyes connect with mine and I free-fall into the softness of them. “You okay, Pretty Boy?”
He blinks, but his eyelids appear heavy because it takes longer than usual for him to look at me clearly again. “I…love you, Wildfire,” he whispers softly. “I always…have.”
My heart clenches tight in my chest. “I know. Go to sleep.”
“Stay awake,” Ramsey orders. “Five minutes, Haven. Or we’re ending this game, and you’re going to enjoy the pre-show.”
A loud roar shoots through the room, sending a wave of goosebumps down my spine as I remember Ozzy fighting for his virtue.
Lifting the barrel of the gun to my temple, Torin’s sleepy haze immediately transforms into unadulterated fear.
“No—” he begins, but with the click of the trigger and the relieved exhale I take, one of my nine lives has been taken away.
