Keeping my breath even and the necklace aimed where it needs to be, I turn my head to meet Jag’s eyes for the first time.
They’re red-rimmed and ruined, held open by the metal prongs that prevent him from blinking.His gaze bounces between me and the screen like a trapped animal, frantic, overworked, but still alive.No gag.No sound.Not a single plea.
I can’t tell if that means he’s broken or strong as fuck.
Ten days of this would shatter anyone.Ten days of being forced to watch the woman he loves being raped over and over?That would poison the inside of his skull.Yet he doesn’t speak.Doesn’t beg.Doesn’t give Crowe the satisfaction.
Maybe he already cracked.
Or maybe he knows something he won’t say in front of Crowe.
“If his brain is sludge, he’s no use to me.”I gesture at the guards.“Take that off his head.”
No one moves.
“What?Do you need written instructions?”I lift my hand and wave the bomb switch.“Or do you need incentive?”
One of the guards steps forward and unfastens the contraption.Metal scrapes.Straps release.The device clatters to the floor, freeing Jag’s eyes.
He blinks but doesn’t look away from the screen.
My chest clenches, and I follow his gaze back to the feed.
It’s fucking unbearable.Blistering pressure scorches through my skull and blooms behind my eyes.I ride it, breathe through it, and focus past the agony, the same way I focused past Denver’s horrors.
The camera angles from above, looking down on the bed.The abuser between her legs repositions, shifting back enough to open the view and expose her naked body.
I scan without staring and catalog without reacting, looking for life-threatening damage.
Tangled blue hair, facial and nipple piercings, old scars on her shoulders.Nothing imperfect there.No visible signs of starvation, broken bones, or bleeding wounds.Her eyes squeeze shut, her lips stretched and cracked around the gag.
Unable to watch another second, I start to turn away until something catches my eye.Or doesn’t catch it.Something’s missing.
Her collarbone is bare.
No beauty mark.It’s not there.
My pulse accelerates.
Where is it?
I keep searching while holding my expression like an unspooled madman seeing a naked woman for the first time.
No beauty mark.No beauty mark.No fucking beauty mark.
I step away from Crowe, pretending boredom while drifting closer to the screen a half step at a time.
“She’s a hot piece.”With crazy eyes, I smile through the roar in my chest.“Twenty years too old for you, Crowe.”
“Like I said.”He grits his teeth.“She’s motivation for him.”
“Doesn’t seem to be working.”
Every muscle in my body vibrates to tear, crush, and castrate House of Crowe.Instead, I lean in to give the lens a better look.Just enough to feed the van the angle they need.
I search again.
No beauty mark.
