She gives me a huge grin as an answer.
Fuck my life. These women are going to turn my hair grey.
I pale as I think of my Pretty Girl. I'm praying she's okay and unharmed.
As soon as I get her back in my arms, I'm never letting go again.
Chapter 16
Phoenyxx
“Get up, wife.”
I’m awoken by a swift kick to my ribs.
I groan, opening my eyes. “I'm not your wife, Maxim.”
“You don’t want to make me mad, Little Bird. Not today. We have a wedding to plan.” Maxim smirks.
I know I have to play along, but it makes my blood run cold. I don’t want this sicko touching me—or worse.
The trauma I’ve been through my whole damn life has piled up so much, I can’t breathe around it.
So much physical abuse, rape, starvation, getting drugged. I taught myself how to become numb, but the truth remains— every single trauma has left a mark on my soul.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety disorder, and multi-trauma PTSD when I was still in The Retreat. Panic attacks have been frequent since I was a child.
The only time I’ve known love is with my besties and my guys. I won’t give that up, for anything.
My anxiety ratchets up another notch. There's no escaping the clutches of the panic attack coming on.
“Why are you breathing so hard, wife? Want me that badly?” Maxim questions.
I can’t answer. I feel like I’m going to black out. Spots dance in my vision, and my fingers and toes are already numb.
“Hey!” Maxim yells in my face. He pulls me up from the dirty mattress and shakes me back and forth like a rag doll.
My head whips back so hard, I feel something give out back there.
I scream in pain. “Stop, Maxim! You messed up my neck.”
“Oh now... we can’t have that. You need to be able to suck my dick on our wedding night,” Maxim says matter-of-factly.
I can’t stop the full-body shudder that runs through me.
I don’t say a word as he carefully places me back onto the mattress.
He tosses another white gown at me, identical to the one I’m wearing. He walks out of my line of sight, coming back with a bucket and towel. He sets it down on the ground next to me. I see a large sponge floating in the soapy water.
“Clean-up time, Little Bird. Hold still and let me bathe you.”
Oh, fuck no. Nausea climbs up my throat, threatening to erupt. I have to let him do it, though it makes me want to vomit.
Maxim pulls me up once again. “Strip, wife. Now.”
I reluctantly shuck off the nightgown and tiny panties, standing there naked and shivering. I have no damn choice. I'm imprisoned and fucking shackled.
Maxim comes forward, grabbing the sponge from the bucket. He wrings it out and brings it to my body. He runs it over my skin, from my neck down my legs, then moves to my back and ass.
