Page 19 of Their Dark Rose

Nonchalantly, Finn presses on the trash cabinet, disposing of his half-eaten apple. “That you’re free to leave us.”

Joining Falk, he flanks me to my right. His tattooed hand drowns in my hair, his leather scent engulfing me.

I turn my head to him, giving him puppy eyes and my lips part.

My eyelashes flutter despite the growing pressure of Falk’s hand around my throat and Finn’s fingers on my scalp.

I want to stop. I can’t stop.

With Falk at my front and him at my side, I’m helpless. And needy. My traitorous body reacts to them when I should be running for my life.

“I—I—I…”

“You’re what, princess?” Falk’s not purring anymore. He’s back to being ominous.

Run.

I don’t. I simply cannot move.

They mesmerize me. Hypnotize me.

I’m completely under their spell. I don’t remember why I feared them.

Wake the fuck up, Briar!

“I can.” Somehow, some way, I find my voice. “I can, and I will leave you. I’ll run my company by myself, and I’ll be gone. You won’t have to tolerate me.”

On cue, Mason approaches us. The three brothers are about the same height. All have the same look and intimidate me equally.

Mason has the slight edge of being broader. More muscular. He couldn’t beat Rocky in the ring for sure. Nevertheless, he’s big. And handsome, made a million times hotter from the scar on his face.

I’ve never asked him where he got it. But with him gripping my left arm, tugging me an inch toward him while Falk releases my throat, I’m suddenly compelled to know. Have to know.

I don’t want to die without him telling me.

“What happened to your face that…day?”

My hands are sandwiched between these three muscular men. I don’t need them, though, to point to the stretched, paler skin on Mason’s freshly shaved cheek.

There’s no mistaking what that day means.

“Your dad happened,” he growls.

Responding to Mason’s rising anger, Falk grips my hair, pulling on it. Finn applies extra pressure on my scalp.

Mason’s fingers on my bicep grip hard. Vowing to hurt me.

My heart rate spikes to new heights. Blood pummels through my veins, roaring between my ears.

One after the other, I search their faces, trying to make sense of this sudden change. Of what they have planned for me.

Physically, they stay put. Emotionally, their intrusion is palpable. Their proverbial claws latch onto the one small thing I have left for myself—my soul.

Sucking in air doesn’t help. My numb feet won’t carry me out of here.

Five more minutes of this and I’ll end up dead. They’ll either kill me, or I’ll have a stroke.

But I’ll die, that’s for sure. Whether it’s having my clothes ripped off me or my heart torn out of my chest, I can’t tell.

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