Page 24 of Tears of Revenge

She yanked off the blindfold, needing to see her surroundings—needing to work out her escape plan. They were in a metal box, the ground made of concrete and the walls constructed of steel. Troy stood in front of her, seeming to enjoy the terror he brought upon her. His pants were still undone, hanging from his waist while his shirt was drenched in sweat.

“Now what shall I do with you?” he sneered. “I mean, you do deserve punishment. But where should I start?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she cried, attempting to stand up.

Part of her thought he would stop her, but he just watched as she used the wall behind her to pull herself to her unsteady feet.

His demeaning laugh filled the room again. “No men to protect you now, huh? Are you not going to ask me how I found you?”

That was the last thing on her mind. She was more focused on how to escape the room. There was a door, but a lock—and Troy—kept her from going for it.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Troy continued, sauntering over to a toolbox on the side of the room. “I was getting the club ready to open—like we used to do on Saturdays—but a text from a good friend of mine stopped me in my tracks. It was a picture of you.” He looked over his shoulder, a smarmy, crooked smile on his mouth. “You were sitting by a tree reading one of those ridiculous books you like so much.”

He turned back to the tools, metal clanging as he looked for whatever it was he needed.

“He followed you and found out where you live. I knew right then and there that I had to come get you. I was hoping to find Varos too, but I guess his payback will just have to come later.”

Finally locating the tool he needed, he turned back around—with a rusty knife in his hand. Her gaze snapped to the weapon, her body frozen in place as he approached.

“You know, I’ve always liked the idea of giving you something that lets everyone know who you belong to.”

“T-Troy…” she stammered.

“No one else would even be able to touch you. They’d know right away that you belong to someone else–that I own you. But you were always such a good girl. I never thought it was necessary to brand you like that.”

Troy came to a stop just in front of her. He reached for her throat again and just like she’d been taught, she didn’t fight. Instead, she locked her eyes on his. Unwilling to give him what he wanted, she hid her fear. His grip tightened, and her vision faded at the edges. Troy wanted a fight, wanted her to beg. Though in that moment, she welcomed the peace and quiet of unconsciousness.

Pain shooting through her arms awakened her. Slowly, she brought herself back to reality. Though she didn’t want to, she opened her eyes to greet the devil himself.

“Oh good. You’re awake,” he cooed and watched her with morbid curiosity, head tilted just slightly.

It was when she moved her gaze past him that she discovered that she dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Her feet were tied together, anchored to a hook in the floor. The pain, she realised, was because her wrists were bound above her head, taking the brunt of her body weight. Most alarmingly, she was stark naked, exposed and vulnerable in every way possible.

With the knife in his hands, he smirked down at her. “Shall we make sure everyone knows without a doubt that you’re mine?”

“No… Please, Troy.” Her throat was dry, his grip still singed into her skin.

“Oh, little Ava. You and I both know you deserve this. You shouldn’t have run away, shouldn’t have left me searching for you. At least with my mark on you, I know you’ll always be returned to me.”

“I’m not yours.” She wanted her words to be strong and powerful like the woman she’d become, they were nothing but a shadow of her former self.

He leaned closer, gripping her jaw tight and grazing his nose over her cheekbone. “You. Are. Mine. The moment I laid eyes on you, you belonged to me. From that day until the day you’ll die, you belong to me.”

His breath was hot and sticky, sending shivers through her spine.

“And every time you look in the mirror, you’ll know who owns you.”

He punctuated his words by dragging the dirty blade across her skin, just beneath her collarbone. A blood-curdling scream bounced off the metal walls. She twisted, contorting and yanking against the chains—but to no avail. Her screams rattled the walls, piercing her eardrums but nothing overshadowed the jagged cut from the knife. The brand broke her mentally, physically, and emotionally. Yet again, Troy was laying claim on something that was no longer his.

He took his time, an evil grin curling his lip the whole way. He was enjoying this, getting off on her pain. And though she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help but scream. Not even when her throat went raw and her lungs burned. Deep down, she hoped someone would hear her.

Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, Troy stepped back with sickening pride covering his face. “Beautiful.”

Hot tears burned down her cheeks. She tried everything not to look. She didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to know what he’d branded into her skin.

Troy tossed the knife, sending it clattering across the room. Then he stepped forward and loosened the ropes around her arms. Her legs buckled, the only thing keeping her from tumbling to the floor being Troy’s arm around her waist.

“Hands and knees,” he demanded, forcing her to kneel on the cold concrete, feet still secured to the hook.

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