Page 112 of Shattered In Darkness

“Mine,” he snarls, voice rough, voice wrecked. “You’re fucking mine.”

“Yes—” I can barely get the word out. All I can do is take it. All I can do is shatter for him.

He slaps my thigh. I gasp. He’s ruthless, pounding, driving, using me up. My cunt clenches, greedy, hungry, no space left for anything but him.

He grabs my jaw, squeezes, forces my mouth open. “Say it,” he hisses. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” I pant. “You, Brody. Only you.”

He groans, loses control, and thrusts rougher, deeper. The headboard cracks. The mattress creaks. My body shakes.

I’m close, God, I’m so close. My clit throbs, every nerve ending screaming. He sees it, feels it, fucks me harder, his hand slipping down, thumb circling my clit. Fast. Brutal.

I can feel myself about to…about to⁠—

Then, there’s a noise outside.

Crunching on snow, heavy boots outside. Voices, muffled but urgent. Maybe five, six, more.

Brody freezes. The tension snaps like a whip. He’s off me in a second, grabs my arm, shoves clothes at me. “Dress. Now. Don’t talk.”

I yank on the shirt, the pants, socks barely making it over my frozen feet. He’s already out in the hall. Low to the ground, scanning, eyes in every direction. He grabs something from under the couch.

Lights off, he moves like a shadow, near-silent. “Stay behind me,” he whispers, dragging me back from the doorway. “Don’t make a sound, Bambi. Not one.”

I nod, heart in my throat.

Another crunch, closer. Window rattling. Voices, louder now.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then, the glass shatters. Windows on opposite sides of the cabin explode inwards. Flashlights slash through the dark, white beams everywhere.

The front door blows open, ripped off its hinges, slamming into the wall behind. Black figures flood in. Masks, boots, rifles. Men, maybe six, maybe eight, moving in formation.

I scream. I can’t help it.

Brody launches himself at them. He barrels into the first man, takes him down hard, slamming the back of his head into the floor. Blood splatters the wall. Next guy, Brody’s on him before he can aim. Fist to the throat, crack, another knife to the gut. Screaming.

But it’s too many. They swarm him. Three, four piling onto his back, battering him down, fists and boots and gun stocks.

Hands grab me. I thrash, bite, scream Brody’s name. A bag is yanked over my head. Darkness, suffocating and wild. Hands on my arms, pinning them behind my back. My feet leave the floor as I’m carried, helpless.

Somewhere behind me, Brody howls my name. “Don’t you stop fighting, Lola! I’ll come for you! You hear me? I will fucking find you, Bambi.”

I hear fighting, bodies slamming into walls. Another scream, then nothing, just savage grunting, boots, chaos.

“Brody!” I scream until my throat tears.

A brutal punch to my ribs silences me. My breath vanishes. The bag tightens. Someone’s dragging me, fast. I don’t know where.

The last thing I hear—Brody’s voice, savage, muffled. Then another bag, maybe over his own head. His shouting stops. Then the hard slam of flesh and boots and silence.

I’m thrown into something. It feels hard, metal, cold as the grave. Hands grope, bind, tape my wrists and ankles. I can barely breathe. Through it all, my ears ring. My heart tries to break free from my chest. The world squeezes in. Boots thudding on the wood, shouts in the distance, Brody’s name on my lips.

They split us apart. He’s gone.

My world shrinks to darkness and fear.