Page 102 of Slaughter

He looks at me; we’re the same height. I may only be seventeen, but I’m tall for my age. A muscle clenches in his square jaw, and his lips thin for a brief second before he gives me an evil smile. To anyone on the street, he looks like a million dollars in his expensive tailored suit. He’s worth that much, but it’s blood money. It all spends the same, he once told me. “You will change your mind.”

I go to argue, but he unlocks the white door and then opens it up. He shoves me down the stairs and through the tunnel of hell, and I look around at all the torture devices. Chains hang from the walls and ceiling. There’s a black wire cage over in the right corner that too has chains in it.

“Sir. Just in time.”

I turn to see Lance standing over by a black table. A blowtorch in one hand and an iron rod in the other. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asks my father.

My father walks over to him and takes the iron rod from him and then walks over to the far wall. My chest aches at what I see. A woman. No, a girl. She looks young. Maybe Bunny’s age—fifteen. She stands spread-eagle, her legs out wide and strapped to the padded wall. Her arms raised above her head, making a V. There is a strap around her neck so she can’t move her head either. I can’t see her eyes because she has a black blindfold over them, but I can still see the tears that run down her face. A big red ball gag is in her mouth, and she weeps behind it. Sobs wracking her naked body while drool runs down her chin to coat her chest.

My father walks over to her and grabs her chin roughly. “You belong to me now, slave. And in case you ever forget that, here is your reminder.”

He places the iron rod over her ribcage, right below her left breast, and she screams out in agony. Her body thrashes harder against her restraints as he holds it there longer than needed.

I feel bile rise in my throat, and my knees go weak watching him treat her like she is cattle. Right now, she wishes she was dead. And that’s exactly what will happen. The smell of her burning flesh is too much. I turn, and all but run out of his cellar and down the tunnel with one thought on my mind—I’ve got to get Bunny out of here.

Bunny gets my attention, looking down at the initials burned into her flesh, and tears form in her eyes. She snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight.

With a growl, she leans forward and starts clawing at it. “Cut it off. Cut it off. Cut it off. Cut it off,” she screams over and over, digging her nails into it.

I stand and grab her hands and shove them down. Holding them to her side in the water, fresh blood instantly clouding the tub from her nails breaking the skin. Water splashes both of us as she fights me.

She looks up at me as tears run down her now clean face. “Please, Avery? Please. Just cut it off. I can’t … I can’t be his slave.” She chokes.

_______________

“This is a very bad idea.” Tristan voices his opinion while he paces in front of the fire in my study.

I don’t disagree with him, just take a drink of my scotch.

“She may say that, but she will change her mind. Even if you were insane enough to do it, she’s going to fight you.” He stops and turns to face me. “Human instinct is to fight. As soon as she feels that first sting of pain, her fight or flight will kick in.” That just makes me take another drink, knowing how hard she had fought Vaughn from doing it. But he won. He always does. He’s a monster like our father. “You’ll never be able to get it done.”

“I could drug her,” I say, throwing back what’s left in my glass. Although I don’t want to do that to her. Never again. But if she leaves me no other choice …

“That could work …”

“No.”

We both turn to see Bunny standing in the doorway, her hair now dry and blood free. All she wears is a white towel wrapped around her tucked under her arms. It’s short enough to show the brand on her thigh. My brother stares at it with clouded eyes. I walk over to my couch and grab the black blanket draped over it and put it around her. “You won’t even feel it …”

“I said no.”

I grind my teeth in frustration.

“Tie me down.”

Tristan lets out a rough laugh as if she’s lost her mind. I’m starting to agree. “I won’t tie you down and cut you,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why not?” she asks, taking a step in and tilting her head to the side as if her plan isn’t fucked up in more ways than one. “You tied me to the bed and left me there gagged all night for your own sick pleasure. Multiple times actually,” she reminds me, and my jaw tightens. “All because I broke some stupid rule you came up with in the first place.”

“Bunny…”

“Then you cuffed my hands behind my back to take me to a fucking business dinner.” Her voice rises. “Where you whipped me because, once again, I disobeyed some stupid fucking rule,” she shouts. “Why can’t you do it now?”

“This is different,” my brother tells her. “He’s not going to—”

“He will!” she shouts, interrupting him. Then she turns to face me. “If you don’t do this Avery, I will. What’s it gonna be?” she asks, arching a brow.

“Goddammit,” my bother snaps, knowing she has backed me into a corner. She’ll do it.

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