Page 140 of Creed

“We’ll get them back, son. Keep your head.” There’s a shuffling noise, followed by the sound of key’s jangling. “Send you location. I’ll be there soon.” He says before hanging up.

I never thought I’d need my father’s help, but something aches in my chest at the thought of him dropping everything to help me to get my people back.

Asher’s had enough of my pacing so he forces me to take a few shots of tequila that he found in a cabinet. The liqueur isn’t enough to knock me out, but it forces my body to relax to a sluggish state. I’m dumped on a bed where I’m left alone with nothing but my thoughts.

Well, two thoughts that take turns echoing in my mind. They play on repeat, each replay more vicious than the last:

They’re gone.

I’ll get them back.

They’re gone.

I’ll get them back.

They’re fucking gone.

I’ll fucking get them back.

They’re gone.

They’re gone.

They’re gone.

“Hang on, Stardust.” I breathe into the night as my eyes close against my will. “Protect our girl, Sweet Boy.”

I allow a single tear to fall before whispering into the dark before sleep consumes me.

“I’ll fucking get you back, and I’ll paint the world red with his fucking blood.”

Epilogue

COLLINS ~ TWO WEEKS LATER

Iforce my lips to remain shut to fight a scream that ratchets up my throat as my legs are wrenched wider apart, the spreader bar latched between my ankles clicked open another notch wider.

His favorite tool.

Guy.

My former foster father.

He fucking found me.

I hear the sound of a metal chain jangling for a moment before it’s pulled taut once more and latched onto the end of the bed. I can’t see anything past the cloth that’s been tied over my eyes for God-knows-how long, but I know he’s nearby.

He never goes far.

The touch of his large hand starts at my ankle and trails all the way up my leg and stops when it reaches the apex of my thighs. His hand squeezes my sex in such a bruising grip that it nearly makes me whimper in pain, but I bite it back. Barely. I will never give him the satisfaction. Though it’s hard to fight the nausea and the bile that rises in the back of my throat when he starts to rub me over the dirty t-shirt that barely covers my body with the way my limbs are stretched so far beyond what’s natural that my fingertips are now numb.

An unexpected slap lands on my cheek and it causes me to cry out. Two sounds ring out in the cold room as a result.

One groan of pleasure, and one of pain.

My heart squeezes at the latter.

“Ah,” my sick, sadistic captor whispers in the quiet of the room and moves his hand from my center and grips my thigh so hard that I know it’ll bruise and my traitorous voice whimpers at the pain, knowing he’ll leave a bruise on my pale flesh. “There are those beautiful sounds I’ve been missing for so long.” He chuckles. “Took you long enough.”

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