Page 72 of Darkest Sin

I pull the trigger without hesitation, turning away before his brain splatters against the wall, and with that, I walk away, preparing for a fucking battle.

I have to assume the asshole and his bitch of a wife is Sergiu and Monica, and assuming they stuck to the plan and Chiara is with Ezekiel, then my time is running out. The auctions will be starting soon, and this time, I’m not just going to find myself a prize; I’m taking what’s mine and burning the rest to ashes.

32

CHIARA

It’s déjà vu as they come for me again. It’s been maybe an hour since their callous attack. The tears on my face haven’t even had time to dry as they force me into black bondage lingerie.

They pull against the ropes binding my wrists, and each painful tug bites deeper into my burning flesh.

The last time they dragged me through here, I fought like a hero. I refused to give up, even after I saw Killian standing in the back and felt that magical connection. I gave it my all and valiantly tried to save myself until the very last moment, but this time is different.

I can barely stand, and my body feels broken beyond repair.

As they lead me to the main floor and shove me into a cage to be displayed for their eager bidders, I don’t even bother looking around. I’ve never felt so flat or alone in my life.

Soon I will be surrounded by the pitiful men who will bid for the chance to violate me in every way imaginable. Only unlike last time, I don’t have any fight left in me. My only hope is that when Killian comes for me, which he will, I’ll still be worth saving.

Though right now, I’m not so sure that I am.

How could he want me now?

I crumble in my cage, falling to the ground and curling into a ball, much like I’ve spent the past hour, only now my bound wrists are freed and offered just a bit of relief for the first time since being taken from my apartment.

The people around me busily prepare for the auction, and for the most part, I’m left alone, and I do what I can to recoup just a fraction of energy, but it’s no use. I’m so thoroughly depleted that what little energy I’ll be able to find won’t do me much good. Not in the face of these assholes.

He’s going to come for me. He has to.

Once he realizes the lack of communication from the security team he stationed outside my apartment, he’ll make his move. He’ll figure this out. I just hope that when he finally gets to me, it’s to take me home and not to put me out of my misery.

How am I ever supposed to come back from this?

All I want is to be in the safety of his arms, pressed against his warm chest where I know nothing would ever happen to me. I want to be his sweet angel again. I want to be the woman he needs, and if I can’t have that, and this here is my only option, then I hope whichever miserable bastard purchases me is merciful enough to put a bullet right between my eyes. But the likelihood of that happening doesn’t seem great.

Why did I have to provoke Monica? I could have kept quiet when she came to gloat at the bar. I should have left her to Killian’s capable hands and maybe they would have left me alone. Maybe this is all my fault.

From the moment Monica put her hands on me, Killian insisted that he deal with it, and instead of letting him do what he does best, I held back, and in doing so, I’ve failed myself. Same goes with Sergiu. The second I had the chance, I should have gone to Killian. I should have told him what his cousin did to me, and it would have been dealt with, but I chose to fear Sergiu instead of trusting that Killian had no part in his cousin’s little visits.

He would have protected me. He would have made it right and ensured that Sergiu or Monica couldn’t even hear my name without fearing it—assuming he would have allowed them to live, of course, but I doubt it. He isn’t known for being a forgiving man. Only with me.

Fuck, I miss him. I’d give anything to see him stride through those doors and take me away from here.

Minutes turn into hours when the massive warehouse begins filling with men. Drinks are served as the other women in cages frantically look around for a way out. I envy their fight for freedom. They still hold on to the hope that they can get out of here, but they’ll soon discover they were foolish to hold on to that hope. All it’s doing is eating into what little energy they have.

Men circle my cage, but I don’t dare look up. I don’t perform for them or show off my body at their demand. I simply sit curled in a ball, waiting for some lowlife to decide my fate.

A laugh sounds before me, and the chilling tone of it has something sinking deep in my gut. The raw familiarity of it sends a chill down my spine, and I can’t help but lift my gaze. His face is one that’s been burned into my mind since the night I stood in this very cage and broke his fucking nose, only now, his nose is healed and there’s one hell of a chip on his shoulder.

Broken-nose guy.

He was an ass that night, and I don’t doubt he’ll be an ass now. The only difference is that I don’t have the fight in me to tell him to fuck off or to even attempt to break his nose again. It’s definitely healed, but it sure as fuck wasn’t set right, and something tells me he’s not exactly thrilled about it. I wonder what bullshit excuse he gave his wife.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you back here,” he chides as his wicked stare lights with excitement. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

My gaze drops back to the floor of the dirty cage, not caring for anything he has to say, but my lack of fight only seems to get him off. “Wow. DeLorenzo really fucked you up, huh? Look at you, you haven’t got even a scrap of dignity left. But don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect place for used-up little whores like you.”

I roll my eyes.

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