Layla reached across the bed, grabbing Becca's hand.
Her own eyes welling up.
"I thought Juan would finish me. At times I prayed he would. I didn't think I could take another day."
I can only imagine what these two went through in the training room under Juan's control. Hector kept me with him the whole time. I never understood why, but it didn't matter because what he did to me the last night was pure hell.
My insides were still sore. He was never decent to me. The whippings, the starvation…it all took its toll. His abuse took its toll on all of us, and I wanted nothing more than for Atlas to torture the bastard.
I hated him.
My throat ached. I pulled the girls close until we were tangled in the middle of the bed, clinging like the last survivors on the Titanic. Tears poured down my face, hot and endless. "It was both of you who helped me get through all the humiliation and torture," I whispered.
"Both of you gave me the will not to give up. I would have broken without the two of you."
Becca pressed her forehead to mine. "Kit, you kept me alive. Every time I thought about ending it, you reminded me I wasn't alone. You stuck up for me and even risked severe punishment so the bastard wouldn't sell me before he found out the truth and totally lost the rest of his marbles."
I cracked a small smile. "Ride or die, right, Beck?"
She grinned. "It was always you and me against the world, Kit. Since we were kids."
Layla gave a broken laugh that turned into a sob.
"Maybe that's the only reason we survived. We kept each other breathing. We looked out for one another the best we could under the circumstances."
All three of us lay there in the dark, whispering confessions we hadn't dared speak within Hector's walls. We spoke about the nights we thought about giving up. Discussed the screams that still echoed in our heads. We described the scars no one could see, but we carried anyway.
We cried until our throats were raw, holding each other tighter every time one of us started to shake. Eventually, exhaustion pulled us under. Not the restless, haunted sleep of captivity, but something closer to rest.
The warmth of the blankets.
The soft creak of the bed beneath us.
The knowledge that Hector was the one locked away now, not us. For the first time in weeks, I closed my eyes without feeling anxious about what tomorrow would bring. I was home with the man I loved. Becca and I had survived the worst thing that ever happened in our lives, and we made a new friend out of that nightmare.
Chapter 27
Hector's punishment
Atlas
Hector sat bound to the iron chair we had delivered just before bringing his empire to its knees. The chains were locked tight around his wrists and ankles. I yanked the gag from his mouth so I could hear his screams once his punishment began. His face was already swollen from earlier, dried blood staining his chin, but that sarcastic grin was still plastered across his face.
"Home sweet home," he rasped. "You two tough guys gonna tuck me in? Maybe sing me a lullaby before you gut me?" I didn't answer. I placed the laptop on the table in front of him. Zach's surveillance feed groaned to life, bringing up the history of the last few weeks Hector never knew we had.
All the nights he thought he was untouchable, thanks to the tracker in Kitten's neck. I'm so fucking glad I inserted the second one without her knowledge because if I hadn't, she most likely would have been lost forever.
It pleased me to see the shocked look on the asshole's face once the videos started playing. I went through most of the footage. All the torture, the starvation and every other horrible thing he did to Kit, Becca and Layla.
My gaze was fixed on him.
"Jacob kept me from watching any more of the videos as we prepared for your filthy party," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "He knew I'd lose it, but tonight? You're going to sit here and watch it with me. I have no clue what is on the last two videos."
I grinned at him.
"It's a good thing I put a tracker in Kit's neck, and what's even better, you were never smart enough to find out."
Hector's bloodstained face twisted into a snarl.
