That's what you think, motherfucker!
My implant is good for three years! You ain't getting shit.
Unless this piece of trash decided to put me on birth control, I wasn't saying a word about the little rod in my arm. The last thing on earth I wanted was his kid.
The thought repulsed me to no end.
Hector nodded toward us as Beck and I sat still, stunned and silent. His plans were too much to take in at once.
"What the hell did I say?" he barked. Get your asses in the shower before I backhand both of you. I haven't got all fucking day!"
His cell rang.
He turned to answer it.
We bolted, heading straight for the bathroom. I saw an opportunity—he'd be distracted, and I needed to talk to Becca.
We stepped under the spray together. She was a mess. Slashes painted her arms, stomach and thighs. Her skin was covered with jagged cuts. I stared at her, the shine in her eyes long gone.
The first thing I did was wash the hell out of my neck. It was raw; the collar had destroyed my skin to the point of madness. Becca did the same. Both of us scrubbed as if we could erase everything that had happened.
I listened for Hector's voice, making sure he was still on the phone, then leaned toward her.
Keeping my voice low, I whispered over the water, so dickhead wouldn't hear.
""Layla told me Juan and Julio were the ones who kidnapped us. They were at the club the night we got hammered. I don’t have time to explain everything, but I need you to know: Atlas had nothing to do with this. He tried to warn me about how dangerous it was out there. I didn’t listen. And now… here we are."
Becca looked at me, and for the briefest second, a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"It doesn't even matter anymore, Kit. We're screwed as far as I'm concerned."
She dropped her gaze, fists tightened at her sides.
"I need you to know something," she said quietly.
"I don't plan on living like this. Not for much longer. His brothers have beaten me, tortured me, pissed on me, slashed me and even manged to fuck me when they weren't supposed to…and now they're going to rape me daily in every open orifice of my body for two weeks before possibly selling me to some sadist motherfucker who gets off on making people bleed." Her voice cracked. Tears slid down her cheeks.
"I love you, Kitlyn Menard, but I am not sticking around for more of this shit. Hector will die before I take my life. I know where the knives are locked up in the kitchen, and I don't give a fuck about the guards. My throat will be opened up before they can stop me."
I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until her head snapped. Keeping my voice as low as possible, I let her have it. There was no way in hell I would allow her to end her life.
She was losing it, and it terrified me.
"Don't you fucking dare talk like that!" I hissed. You will not kill yourself. We are getting out of here. I know Atlas is looking for us. I can feel it! You don't know him like I do, Becca. He will find us. Just hang on a little longer."
She flinched as she gently ran soap over her wounds, then gave me a sad look.
"Again, I love you, Kit, but I don't think your guy is coming, and I don't have it in me to live like this anymore. I've submitted, kept quiet and done everything I was told—and the torture just gets worse."
She pointed at her battered body.
"Do you think this is a life? I didn't fall in love with our tormentor, like you did. I hate the bastard's guts, and when the time comes, I'll make sure both of us are gone before I let him or his brothers get near me again!"
We were running out of time.
Hector expected us back in the kitchen shortly.
I grabbed Beck's hands, pleading with all I had.
