Page 72 of What I Should Have Done

Mikey was coming. I just knew it.

A sudden jolt of adrenaline coursed through me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t fighting alone. I wasn’t fighting for just me. I was fighting for me, but also for him. And I was also fighting for my team. They were coming too.

Whatever excruciating torment was dealt to me, I could weather the storm. I needed to return.

Because Mikey needed me.

Someone else needed me.

Wanted me.

A fracturing current tore through my body. And my lungs ruptured, releasing a scream so powerful, I watched my captor take a startling step backward. The electricity immediately fizzled out, leaving me once again panting on the table.

And everything turned black.

Vibrant colors swirled in my vision, everything around me colliding into one blob. Crippling fatigue burrowed into my bones, weighing me a thousand pounds heavier. I couldn’t move my fingertips. I couldn’t wiggle my toes. How much time came and went I wasn’t sure. It could’ve been a few seconds or several hours, but the world swirled into nothing around me.

Out of instinct, my muscles contracted, bracing for the next wave of electricity to ripple through my skin.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, sweat beaded on my forehead and oxygen slowly spilled into my lungs. My heart regained a slowly steadier rhythm.

My muddied senses faded in and out. Once in a while, footsteps sounded around me and garbled voices whispered. Other times, there was nothing but the fuzzy remains of white noise. He had done exactly what he’d promised. I felt ripped apart to pieces.

But he had failed on another point. I hadn’t watched. I wasn’t able to watch.

Inhaling deeply, I pried my eyes open to slits. My captor leaned against the wall to my left, dabbing a cloth at the last bit of blood dried to his penis. Nausea rippled through me once more, and I flopped my head to the right, but I had no energy to even attempt to dry heave.

“Someone looks tired,” a muted voice sounded to my left.

He was right. I wasn’t able to open my mouth to say something in response.

“Good, then let’s try this again; though, I think I’m going to mix it up a little,” he hissed like a snake. His words tasted foul.

And through the haze, I watched his blurry figure climb back up onto the table. It shifted beneath his weight, lulling me into deeper exhaustion. I called to every last reserve in my body, searching for a single store of adrenaline that might be left. Something to help me fight.

Anything to keep this prick from doing what I knew he was about to as his fingers gripped the waistband to my pants.

Shaking my head fervently, my disheveled hair slapped my cheeks. I was partially grateful I didn’t have the energy to beg him to stop because I knew that would only fuel his ego. Every bone in my body desperately hoped that he was too injured to get hard and would by all means, technically fail. Of all the things to happen because this fucker was bored…

With the last surge of energy, I slammed my hips against the table. But it took almost no effort from him to raise my ass and slip my pants and underwear off of my legs in one fell swoop. Greed and hunger, absolutely disgusting hunger, bled from his eyes as he crawled between my thighs.

There was nothing I could do.

No other way I could fight him. He’d won.

Leaning my head back, I stared at the ceiling. Simply waiting.

A grunt drew my attention back to the asshole. But just as my eyes slid across the frustration that tightened his features, a crack of gunfire drew my gaze away from his limp and bleeding dick.

Even he stopped. “The hell was that?” Merlin barked at one of the four men standing guard at the doorway.

Macavoy shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it’s the guy that hired us.”

“Except he promised he wouldn’t use a gun or actually kill someone,” my captor hissed.

Another couple pops reverberated around the room. Whoever was here had a silencer on their weapon; otherwise, the gunshot would’ve been louder. Maybe they were closer than I previously thought.

---