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I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

Rafael held me for a moment, then kissed my forehead.

“We’re getting you out,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes.

“And Lachlan.”

His hand squeezed my arm.

Rafael had always been able to steady me. Now he’d given me a plan, something useful to do with all that fear, and for the first time, freedom might finally be within reach.

Chapter eighteen

Pain dragged me out of the dark and back to this godforsaken cell.

My left leg kicked hard enough against the restraints to wrench the chair sideways. The cramp climbed from my battered thigh into my hip, stomach, and ribs, locking everything at once. My breath jammed in my chest in the worst possible way.

Pain I could handle. The thirst was becoming a bigger problem. What little food and water Mouse had gotten into me last night was long gone. Between that and Isabeast treating electricity like a personality trait, my thoughts were starting to move a fraction slower than I liked. I needed that shit to stop before an escape window opened and I was too fucked up to use it.

The bare bulb blurred above me, doubled, then slowly became one again.

No blindfold.

Christ. Isabeast had finally done me a favor. After two days of darkness, being able to see whoever came through that door counted as progress.

Isabeast had thrown it aside before she started because she’d wanted to see my eyes every time she gave an order.

I held still and let the aftershock burn itself out. Fighting muscles still spasming from the shocks would only waste what little strength I had left.

Once I could think past the pain, one change was impossible to miss. My cock was back inside my pants.

My belt was buckled and my zipper closed, but she’d shoved my cock down the wrong side of my pants. Right instead of left.

Isabeast had handled me while I was unconscious. Not to give me back any dignity. She wanted me to wake knowing she’d done it because I couldn’t stop her.

The last thing I remembered was her thumb settling over the switch on the black box controlling the electrical pulses.

She’d strapped one electrode against the bruised flesh along my side and shoved the other beneath my waistband against my upper thigh, then stood in front of me holding the control box as if she’d finally found something that could make me obey.

“Ask me to stop politely,” she’d purred.

The current punched through my side and leg at once. My back had snapped away from the chair, lungs locking before I could drag in a breath.

“Call me Mistress.”

Another burst turned every muscle rigid and drove the restraints into skin already rubbed raw.

“Tell me you’ll behave for the camera.”

By then, all I could focus on was her mouth, the box in her hand, and how many seconds I had before she hit the switch again.

“Thank me properly for teaching you to behave. Then say my name.”

Then she held the switch down.

The scream tore out of me before the darkness came.