“That girl is long gone. Youbrokeme—”
“Iforgedyou.”
“—and when I healed, I was missing a few pieces. I’ll never be that girl again.”
“That so?” he drawls. “Well, then. Get in the car,Viper.”
The name he bestowed on me after my first hit. The name that was always uttered with a reminder that he made me—and the name I’ve now claimed and made into my own. I’m no longerhisViper. Now, I’m just Viper.
I flash him a smile.One last time,my former puppet master.
Chapter Forty-One
Ember
Abullet clips Dagon’s shoulder when he ushers me into the car. I don’t bother hiding my smile, and he openly snarls at me. His plan, I’m sure, is to break me again. To remind me, once and for all, that I’ll always belong to him.
I don’t plan for either of us to survive that long.
The remainder of Dagon’s men—those still alive—all get into the cars, and then, we take off at a dazzling speed.
Dagon stares at me with his dead brown eyes, the color of swamp water. He’s on one end of the backseat; I’m on the other. I’m sure he expects me to cower and curl up into a ball, but those days are behind me. I’m not going to defend myself from his coming attack; I’m going to double down and attack him faster, harder, and with greater finality.
Dagon’s most glaring fault, his biggest mistake, is that he doesn’t want me dead. He hasn’t since I survived that fall out of the window, though one would be forgiven for thinking that was his goal every time he sent me out to kill someone.
I have no such compunctions. I know how my story ends, and it’s not with a happily-ever-after. I allowed myself to believe, briefly, that it would be… and I was proven dead wrong.
Several minutes of the drive pass in silence as we stare at each other. Then, Dagonfinallyspeaks. “He touched you.”
We both know it’s not a question, and we’re both aware of who he’s referring to.
“Yes.”
“He fucked you.”
I smile. “Hard.”
Dagon’s eyes flash with fury. His issue is that his temper still runs hot—something he ought to have trained out of himself long ago.
His lips pull back into a snarl. He bares his teeth at me furiously. Then, he sinks his nails into my leg and yanks me across the seat, dragging me towards him and flattening me down. My head bounces off the car door, and that momentarily dazes me enough that my survival instincts kick in.
I fight, just like he’d expect me to. Just like I’d promise myself I wouldn’t, becausethissort of match is not one where I have the advantage. I don’t yet have my weapon.
I kick out my leg, aiming for Dagon’s balls, but he twists to avoid me. His face is blotted red, stained with a level of rage I’ve only seen him wear once before—the moment when I tried to shoot him. Even then, he wasn’t this angry.
I’ve always just been property to him—never a person. Only a thing that belonged tohim, which happened to have a beating heart and blood in its veins. The idea of someone else touching that object must be untenable.
I shoot my fist forward, aiming for his jaw. Panic ignites deep in my chest, muddling my thoughts, as he catches my wrist and roughly pins it against the cold, unforgiving door.
He’s not even going to wait until we get to our destination—he’s going to force himself on me right here and now.
My brain scrambles, then centers on a single, repeated word;no, no, no, no.
“Yes,” Dagon growls. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud. He pins my hips in place with his weight, straddling my pelvis. I can feel the horrific, throbbing length of his cock pulsing against my stomach.
No!
I jerk at my hands, try to buck Dagon off, but it’s hopeless. In this moment, I’m helpless, because his need to reclaim me immediately is greater than I anticipated. He reallydoescare for me, I realize, in his own twisted, horrible way.
