"You look like hell," Jacob muttered, his eyes glancing back and forth between me and the road.
"I feel like hell," I said, pulling my tie tighter. "But at least I'll be the best-dressed bastard at the party."
Jacob snorted.
"You? In a mask and a tux? I've seen better looks on a corpse."
I cracked a grin despite myself. "Says the guy whose face will look like a goddamn dog in heat in about five minutes."
He smirked, flicking his eyes toward me. "Better than looking like Satan's boy toy prom date." For a second, the tension broke. We laughed for just a minute, but it was enough. That's how we'd always survived throughout our career as partners—jokes in the face of death.
Jacob knew what he was doing. If he let me stew in silence too long, my thoughts would spiral straight back to Kitlyn's screams, and he couldn't risk me unraveling before we even reached the gate. The truth is, I wasn't unraveling. Not tonight. I was wired, alive in a way I hadn't felt since the day she was taken from me.
Every minute brought me closer to getting my Kitten back, and that thought lit me up from the inside. The road curved, and the glow of Hector's place appeared before our eyes. There were floodlights illuminating the high stone walls, with guards posted like statues at the gate.
Beyond it, the mansion sat, a palace of corruption and misery, dressed in wealth. The sound of music drifted faintly even from where we were. Still not near the entrance yet, but so close. Jacob slowed as we approached the checkpoint.
"Moment of truth," Jacob said under his breath as he pulled his mask over his face. "Let's hope Vargas and Salazar were important enough to skip the pat-down."
My reflection in the side mirror looked inhuman, predatory….perfect for blending in this evening. The guard stepped forward, his flashlight blinding us across the windshield.
He barked in Spanish, demanding identification. Jacob handed over the gold-etched invitations. The guard's eyes moved between the cards and our faces, or what he could see behind the masks. Another second, and I thought we'd have to kill our way in right here at the fucking gate; but then he grunted, nodded and waved us through.
As we rolled past, my pulse hammered. This was it. We were finally here! As good as we were at our jobs, that shit was nerve-wracking because it involved Kit.
Jacob leaned back, exhaling through his nose.
"Well, shit. Guess we clean up nice."
I smirked under my mask, the weight of my fury and anticipation burning hotter with every second.
"Guess so, now let's go get my fucking queen."
We continued driving into the lion's den.
Tonight, this party would be Hector's last.
Chapter 21
The Ball
Kitlyn ( The morning of the masquerade party)
The morning light crept through the blinds, bright and cheery, painting stripes across the sheets tangled around us. Every part of my body ached. My throat was raw from crying, and swallowing down the screams I didn't want to give him. My legs trembled even while lying still.
As promised, he brutalized me until I almost passed out. The sick fuck thoroughly enjoyed it when I screamed bloody murder as he sodomized me multiple times, then tore my vagina apart as well. The assault was so bad; he had the doctor come to the room in the middle of the night to fix any damage he had caused.
Thankfully, I didn't need stitches, but my insides were completely raw. Hector was given some antibiotic cream that needed to be inserted into my vagina and rectum, along with a healing ointment. Of course, the asshole took it upon himself to administer both, which humiliated me even more.
I cried quietly at four in the morning as the applicator breached both openings, but he was actually gentle when he applied it, which shocked me after what he put me through.
Hector's arm was draped over me like a chain, heavy and suffocating. His skin reeked of sweat and liquor. The motherfucker was trashed out of his mind last night when he assaulted me. I wanted to claw his eyes out and peel his arm off of me, because he was a disgusting asshole.
I swear to God, I'd chop my own arm off as a sacrifice if I could forget the violence he subjected me to.
"Get off your fucking knees, stand up and touch your toes. I'm going to fuck you until you bleed."
I stood up and bent over, not wanting to annoy him anymore than he was. He whacked me across my bottom; the intensity of the blow caused me to cry out.
