The engine revved, and the breaklights flashed when Andrew kicked the car into reverse. Dust flew as the tires spun. It was only seconds before they caught traction and the car was flying backward.
They say that in the seconds before death, life replays behind your lids like an old projector movie.
Fuck that.
I kept my eyes wide open, not caring whether or not it heightened the sick lustburning in Callen’s eyes. They burned, but I refused to blink.
When the car made impact with my hips, bones shattered.
As the car stopped, it sent me flying backward through the air.
I barely felt the landing. Death wrapped its arms around me like the most natural sort of sedative, yet he wasn’t kind enough to take me home.
It didn’t matter. I wasn’t ready to go. Not yet.
“Damien,” Callen growled, and it sounded so, so far away.
I grabbed onto the sound of his voice like a lifeline, refusing to let the darkness drag me under.
Three shadows hovered over top of me; one had their hands in their hair, another crossed their arms over their chest, and the last was relaxed as only a sociopath could be in a moment like this.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Callen,” Damien whined.
Callen went from relaxed to on edge in the blink of an eye. Steel flashed in the midnight light.
“You’ll do what the fuck I say or you’ll die right beside her.” Callen pressed his blade against Damien’s throat, and his whines deepened to a panicked cry.
“Shit,” Damien said as he paced. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Callen,” Andrew cut in. “We need to go, dude.”
“Not until Damien fucks her.”
“He can’t even get his dick up.” Callen threw his hands up in the air.
“Yeah, Callen,” I croaked. “Little brother can’t get hard. Must run in the family.” I coughed a weak laugh.
Of all the things that had happened tonight, Callen had only watched. A voyeur to the worst night of my life as if it were nothing other than a fucking sitcom.
That streak ended, however.
Callen's face twisted into a monstrous sort of rage, eyes so dark they looked like empty sockets on his pale face. He squatted down and gripped my cheeks in a bruising hold with one hand.
“I’ll fucking show you, you whore.” One hand held me while the other worked at unbuttoning his acid washed jeans. “You’re going to regret being too stupid to die.”
He did unspeakablethings to me then.
I’d lived my life around men with the same sickness eating away at Callen’s mind. They lacked the ability to feel anything except a sort of joy and lust the rest of humanity would never understand. It was an all consuming need to hurt people, chasing a high that not even a drug addict could understand.
I didn’t scream, or try to beg for my life. We were past that.
Instead, I cried furious tears, staring into the depths of his rotten soul to tell him all the things words could not—that he could torment my body, even take my life, but he would never own my death. The way I left this shitty fucking world would be my choice, and mine alone.
Callen’s face was flushed, and I could tell by his erratic movements that he was close to finished. Blood was pooling in my abdomen, filling up my lungs, threatening to end it all here. I grit my teeth and put every morsel of fight into keeping my eyes open.
“If you bite me,” Callen grunted, “I’ll snap your neck.”
That was all the warning I got before he straddled my chest. Callen’s thighs squeezed my ribs, the shattered ends puncturing my rapidly deflating lungs, and forced himself down my throat.
