Then the Beast arrived.The noise of the door being kicked in, the rage on his face as he’d ripped the guy from my body, and the quiver in my core as he’d shoved the barrel of his gun down the guy’s throat.
I don’t know what to make of the fact that the Hellhound shoving his gun down the guy’s throat turned me on far more than the guy had when he flicked his tongue over my nipple.Despite the heat that’d burned between my legs, I cursed the Beast for interrupting us.
My throat swells as I try to swallow, and I recall screaming at him.
“I hate you!You’re a fucking monster!”
There was no way I was leaving that club.No way I was having them dictate my life to me for one more second.
Then the Hellhound picked me up, threw me over his shoulder.The heat had brewed under my skin as I’d fought, kicked, punched—and then nothing.
And by my raging headache, blurry eyes, and fog surrounding my brain, I know they’ve bent to my father’s will and drugged me, again.
There’s anger somewhere amongst the haze.Raging, lethal anger.But right now, rather than burning brightly in my gut, it’s smouldering under the aftermath of whatever shit they injected me with.
It’s abuse.Plain and simple.But what police officer or doctor would listen to me, Hayami Devall?Which upstanding citizen would come to my rescue and arrest my father for illegally drugging me?Because, as much as I want to, I don’t blame Willa or even the Beast.They’re only following orders, and I know what would happen to them if they don’t do as they’re told.
It’s my fault they end up drugging me.Mydefiance.Myreluctance to do as I’m told.Myresistance to fall in line with my father’s demands.But it doesn’t take the sting out of any of it.
Normally, after I’ve been sedated, I wake in my bed, but this doesn’t feel like my soft mattress.Nor does it smell like the usual lavender I spray my pillow with.So, where the fuck am I?
I try to blink, but my eyes are sticky, like they know that when they open, they won’t like what they see.But I force them to face whatever shit’s awaiting me.
An orange glow greets me, along with a damp, musty smell accompanying the dark furnishings and rich colours.
Strange.
Blinking, I adjust to my surroundings.With the lull in my brain, I’m struggling to process that I’m somewhere I’ve never been before.If I have, I don’t recall it.
“Where the fuck am I?”My voice sounds weird, a deepness to it that feels rough inside my ears.
“It’s okay.It’s okay.”Willa’s voice pierces the panic that’s begun to balloon.Her hand’s on my arm whilst her body blocks out the size of the room along with the enormity of my current predicament.
“Where the fuck?”I push up onto my elbows, taking in the large room, the dark cornices, the shadows that dance upon the darkened walls.
“It’s okay,” Willa repeats, using that voice she saves for when I’ve lost my shit and she’s trying to calm me.“You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”
“Like fuck it does.”There’s a blanket over me, which I push away.My dress is gone, replaced with sweats and a hoodie.I glance at Willa, and then I feel him.
The Hellhound.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”I turn to face him, all of him.
The man who won’t let me breathe.
The man who stalks my every movement.
The man who is ruining my life—albeit less than my father is.
“There was a code red,” the Beast says.
“I remember.”I lower my tone, signalling my annoyance at how they interrupted my night for a stupid code red.“We have a code red nearly every week.”
“This one was different,” Willa explains.“They made threats against you, specifically.”
“And?”Again, this is nothing new.My life has been in danger since the day I took my first breath.Disgruntled gang members, people who have a grudge against my father (that list is endless), and anyone who opposes his reign on this city.I’ve been threatened by them all.
“Like I said, this was different.”She swallows, which unnerves me.It takes me a second to realise why.I’ve never seen her like this.Hollow.Shaken.“They killed some people at one of your father’s clubs.”
