“Try that smart mouth again,” he mutters.
I open my mouth anyway because I never learn, but he’s faster. His fist slams into my jaw so hard my vision bursts white. My head snaps sideways, teeth clacking together, and metallic warmth floods my tongue instantly. Blood. I don’t even know if it came from my teeth, my lip, or somewhere deeper.
“Not the face, Rick,” Sylvia’s voice slices through the room, sharp enough to stop him mid-movement, but unbothered at the same time.
Rick exhales through his nose, annoyed, then he grabs me by the collar and shoves me back into the wall so fast my shoulder blades slam against it.
“Fine,” he growls.
The next punch lands in my ribs. Then another. Pain detonates behind every hit. My breath tears in and out of my chest in short, useless gasps. He doesn’t even need much force, he knows exactly where to strike to make it feel like I’m breaking from the inside. A kick catches me in the hip and I drop to my knees.
My palms hit the cold tile. I spit blood onto the floor. Rick crouches just enough to grab the back of my hair and yank my head up, so I’m forced to look at him, blood mixed with saliva pouring from my mouth.
“You’re property of Vermilion,” he says, voice low, calm—the worst kind of calm. “And you embarrassed us tonight.”
I don’t answer. Anything I say will get me hit again. It’s almost ironic how trained I am to fight, but now that I want to, I can’t. I can’t do anything. He lets go of my hair and stands, wiping his knuckles on a dish towel like I’m something he accidentally spilled.
Sylvia’s heels clap against the marble floor as she comes to me, dragging something. I finally see that her fist is full of curly hair as she drags Adrien to me and throws him at my feet like he’s a bag of trash. I immediately jump to him. His face is almost unrecognizable, bloody and swollen. He’s breathing, but shallow. Blood is pouring from at least three places on his face.
I grab him in my arms and hold him against me as we lie scattered on the floor. I tenderly take his face but he’s limp from all the pain. My eyes start to burn as I look at him, all ruined and defeated. Sylvia finally glances at me—slow, assessing, clinical.
“Next time,” she says, “try to remember the consequences.”
I nod once because if I try to speak, I’m going to choke on more blood. Rick walks off and she’s following him, then she turns to me once more.
“I told Victoria you disgusting piece of shit got chlamydia. She doesn’t want to see you ever again. Congrats,” she snaps and leaves.
That’s actually the perfect idea. Why didn’t I think of that?
I’ll never see Victoria again. Or any of them. I’ll never let them whore me out ever again. Even if it breaks me in the process.
I drop my head back to Adrien, take off my T-shirt and try to dry the blood on his face so I can see where it’s coming from. He coughs, finally giving a sign that he’s alive.
The kitchen is dead quiet now, the marble floor cold under us. The stink of blood and the faint scent of Sylvia’s perfume still lingering in the air.
Somewhere far away, a door closes. A car engine starts. They’re leaving us here like trash.
Adrien’s breathing evens out—not good, not steady, just calmer than before. He leans forward and spits out blood, then finally mumbles something.
“Nat,” he chokes out and spits another mouthful of blood.
I quickly take my phone out of my pocket and call her. She picks up immediately.
“Where are you?” I ask her urgently.
“In my room, what’s happening?”
Thank God.
“She’s fine,” I mumble to Adrien and he just gives me a nod.
“Come to the kitchen,” I tell her and hang up.
She comes running and drops to her knees next to Adrien, taking him from me. She starts to cry, mumbling something.
“Stop crying, I’m fine,” he mutters, then chokes on blood again. I see she’s doing something, getting first aid, helping him. So I rest my back against the wall, looking at them.
This is my fault. As fucking always.
