Page 61 of Brutal Surrender

But a conscience doesn’t grow out of thin air. You had to have had one to begin with, and there’s just no way Vincent had one.

Sitting in one of the recliners, I stare out the window. It’s a beautiful vista, but I still can’t fully appreciate it. I feel lost and confused. My body’s reaction to Vincent even after I’ve taken the omega blockers mystifies and scares me. I had to have gotten a bad batch of pills. This morning I contemplated taking a double dose again, but I don’t want Vincent to make good on this threat and take them away.

Maybe my body has been conditioned to come for Vincent? Like Pavlov’s dog.

At least I should be able to focus better, now that my heat has been suppressed. My mission is to send Vincent to hell, I remind myself. Since I don’t know what’s happened to Brady, I’ve got to assume it’s all on me. I don’t want to wait to be sold to some pimp, and I can’t expect that Vincent will continue this better treatment of me. He may change his mind tomorrow and shoot me dead because he found a more interesting fuck doll to torment.

Hearing the sound of the door swing open with force, I scramble out of my chair to see that it’s Vincent. My heart leaps. He looks a little disheveled, like he was up all night. He only has on an undershirt for a top and he’s carrying. A handgun fits snug in the holster at his side.

But the part that strikes me the most: he does not look happy.

And he’s going to take it out on me.

He advances toward me. I back away.

I knew it. He’s back to being Mr. Hyde. Is this the end? Is he going to kill me? I know I thought about death not too long ago, but I had started to feel rejuvenated. Vincent had challenged my commitment to kill him. Now that I’m in a better place, giving up would be wimpy.

“You almost succeeded again,” he says, staring at me as if his glare can pin me to my spot. “You and your buddy.”

I continue maintaining the distance between us, but I don’t think I can keep it up. The suite feels so much smaller. Where in the world can I run? What can I use to protect myself?

He gets closer. “But if you’re going to try and kill me, you better succeed.”

Why is he bringing this up? I try to put the bed between us, as if that’s actually an effective barrier.

He starts walking around the bed toward me. “Especially on the second try.”

“What— What are you talking about?”

“Your little stunt on Trinidad.”

I stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with it,” he says. “Are you going to give all the credit to your friend? You think he can take the consequences for the both of you?”

“What happened on Trinidad?” I ask, stalling him so I can come up with an escape plan. Only I’ve spent hours trying to before without coming up with anything.

“Shouldn’t you know?”

What is he accusing me of? I stammer, “I don’t know. I’ve been locked here the whole time. You know that.”

“So you’re going to let your friend take all the blame. Not much a friend then. Was he ever more than a friend?”

My eyes widen. Does Vincent know about Brady?

But I don’t have time to contemplate the answer because Vincent has rounded the corner of the bed. Any second and he’ll be within arm’s reach.

Attempting to make a mad dash for the door, I scramble over the bed. But he’s quick as a panther, lunging toward me and grabbing my throat.

We land on the bed with him atop me. His grasp tightens, constricting the airflow. Suddenly I’m back beneath the wet cloth with water pouring over my face, threatening to make me drown on dry land. I desperately claw at his hand and arm as panic fills every pore of my body.

His grip lightens enough for a sob to come through me. I start crying. I don’t want to die this way. Why didn’t I die with my family? Bella, please help me…

I’m sobbing so hard I don’t see the change in Vincent’s face. He hauls me up and wraps his arms around me, holding me as my body quakes and I fight my own sobs just to breath.

“Shhh…shhh…” he comforts.

I barely hear him through the hyperventilation, except…is that Bella?

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