Page 103 of Savage

“I’m not!” I protest quickly. “I was… I was just…”

He grabs the phone, examining it. He lets out a nasty laugh. “Wow. He really doesn’t trust you at all, and you’re defending him?”

“It’s just a phone,” I mumble. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a security measure to Hunter… Right?

I hurry into the closet, finding one of Hunter’s suitcases and dragging it out.

I find Dylan crouching down in front of the safe in the side table. “You know the combo?” he asks me, then he snorts. “Yeah, right. Who would trust their fucktoy with that?”

My cheeks flush red, but he’s not wrong. Hunter has no reason to trust me with anything. Not a smartphone, not the combination to his safe, not anything. I watch Dylan for a moment, hoping that cops will magically burst through the door because Hunter has seen what’s happened and called for help…

But nothing happens.

Dylan presses the buttons on the safe’s keypad, but it doesn’t react. He grimaces. “Tch. If I had more time…” He gets up and eyes me. “Well? Didn’t I say to get fucking dressed? Jesus, did you get stupider after you left me?”

His words make me flinch. I feel like I have. I feel like I’m just a sex toy, especially right now with Dylan’s voice ringing in my ears. I go to the dresser and find my underwear along with a pair of jeans and a sweater. I start to get dressed, stalling.

Suddenly I hear a strange sound behind me, and a smell wafts to my nose. I turn around and gape when I see Dylan pissing on the bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask in dismay, fumbling with the sweater before pulling it over my head.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Fucking rich asshole.” Dylan shakes his cock around to get as much of the bed as he can, until the stream runs dry. He catches my eye and smirks at me. “You’re salivating already? Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you later.”

I flinch, brushing again at the tears that never seem to stop.

Except they had stopped, for a little while—when I’d been with Hunter, when he’d smiled at me, when he’d touched me gently. I’m not delusional enough to think he loves me, or that I love him, but… We had fun, didn’t we?

I finish getting dressed and find my shoes. “I’ll go pack up the stuff from the living room,” I mumble.

Maybe I can run before he figures out I’ve gone anywhere. Even if I just go downstairs, if I tell the concierge somebody is vandalizing Hunter’s home…

I hear the click of the gun safety.

“Don’t fucking move, Bela,” Dylan says. “Open up the drawers here. There’s got to be something worth taking along.”

My breaths come faster, harder, as I struggle not to hyperventilate. I don’t look at the gun. I don’t dare. “Okay,” I whisper, going to the bedside drawer. I blush as I see the drawer full of sex toys, of dildos and gags and even the collar and leash Hunter has been saving for another day. “This isn’t worth anything,” I say, even though I have no idea how much these have cost.

Dylan gets closer and peers inside. “Jesus fuck, he’s one kinky fucker.” He picks up the collar with his free hand, holding it up to my neck. “Put it on.”

I nearly choke on a sob, but I obey, taking the collar and putting it around my neck. I secure it in place, staring down at the floor. I flinch when Dylan hooks the leash onto it.

“Nice. Guess he does at least know how to treat his bitches.” Dylan tugs hard enough to make me stumble. “Okay, pile some of it into the bag. We’ll grab the electronics and get out of here.” He laughs. “Just like old times, right, Bela?”

I want to collapse onto the floor and refuse to move, but I’m keenly aware of the gun in his hand. So instead of curling up in a ball on the floor, I go through the drawers in the bedroom looking for anything of value, slowly putting things into Hunter’s small suitcase.

When we return to the living room and it’s time to get the gaming console from the TV stand, my tears start up anew.

Yeah. Just like old times.

“I think that’s… that’s everything,” I say around hiccupping sobs.

“Fucking Christ, are you crying?” Dylan groans. “I’m saving you here. From some rich asshole who bought you, and won’t even fucking share the wealth.”

He isn’t saving me at all, and we both know it. I duck my head, zipping up the bag instead of responding aloud.

“Speaking of.” Dylan goes up to the TV and pulls on it.

I watch dumbly as the TV topples over onto the floor with a loud cracking sound.

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