Page 23 of Tears of Revenge

She sank her teeth into her lip to stifle a whine, and forced a nod. She’d learned early on that it was best not to fight him—not that she stood a chance to begin with.

“Good girl. Now get up.”

Tears stinging her eyes, she pushed herself off the cold floor. He watched with dark, hungry eyes as she steadied her posture. She stood on wobbly legs, waiting as he tucked the gun into the front of his pants. Much like Marcus, he took her hand and placed it on his arm—though there was nothing endearing about it. She did what she knew she was supposed to: tucking her head down and not letting anyone see her struggle.

She scrambled into the truck the second he opened the door, wanting his hands off of her as soon as possible. With her eyes glued to him, she watched as he walked around the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat. Before turning on the engine, he strategically placed the gun on his lap in plain sight. He reversed, indicating the glove box with a rough hand.

“Open it.”

Her hands shook as she did, finding a black silk cloth inside.

“Cover your eyes.”

“W-what?” she stammered, her voice raspy and her throat sore.

“We don’t want to spoil your surprise, do we?”

She swallowed against a wave of nausea, tying the cloth behind her head. Only then did she allow her silent tears to spill into the silk.

The sudden feeling of his fingers brushing her cheek made her sick. “Good girl.”

She’d always hated it when he’d called her that. She wasn’t a dog. Some women liked that, but she wasn’t one of them. Troy never meant it as praise. It was an insult, simply another way for him to degrade her.

They drove in silence, his hand far too high on her thigh for her comfort. Though she didn’t dare reject him. Letting him do what he wanted was just easier—less painful.

After what felt like eternity, the truck slowed and passed over a speed bump. They came to a stop and he lowered the window, the beeping of a keypad ringing out in the silence. Then a gate in front of them screeched open, and he continued driving. A few slow turns later, he parked and shut off the engine.

His door opened and closed, then everything fell silent. She did exactly as he expected of her and stayed still until he opened her door. It took him longer than usual, which made her nervous. She was so tense her muscles ached. Far too long after he’d left the truck, he opened the passenger door, took her hand, and tugged her out.

Careful not to miss a step, she manoeuvred her way to the ground. The door slammed shut and he tugged her along, locking the truck behind them. The air around them was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of traffic somewhere nearby. Thankfully, the ground beneath her feet was even as Troy led her along with a tight grip on her wrist.

After a short walk, he let go. Troy’s footsteps quietly sounded around her, and a metal door shut behind them. Fear took over, and she began to gasp for air.

“Where are we?”

Troy’s bone-chilling laugh wrapped around her like the electricity before a brewing storm. She moved for the blindfold, but a sharp crack sounded through the air and pain rippled through her temple. She didn’t even have time to cry out before darkness wrapped around her once more.

Hot, sticky breath creeping down her neck pulled her back to consciousness. Pain shot through her core, her skin wet and sticky. Slowly, things came into focus. Troy was holding her down with a hand flat on her stomach, the other holding her legs wide open. He thrusted again, making her scream in pain as his pelvis slapped against hers. Pure terror settled in as she tried to regain control of her own body.

He was using her to please himself.

She tried to move, tried to wrestle out of his grip but she was still blindfolded, pain shooting through her head where he’d hit her. Her core burned, his hard pelvis slamming into her repeatedly, his nails digging into her skin as she tried to kick him away.

“Stop!” she cried. “Troy, you’re hurting me.”

“Fuck… little Ava,” he panted. “You feel so damn good.” He was in no way bothered by her attempts to get away.

“Please, Troy—stop,” she begged, scrambling for something to grip onto, anything to pull herself away. But there was nothing more than the cold, concrete floor surrounding her.

Then he groaned, halting his movements—and she froze. He pulsed inside her, and she knew what that meant.

“No…” she whispered, hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

“You feel so delicious,” Troy groaned, pulling out and rolling to the side.

The moment he released her, she scrambled away, banging her head on an unknown metal object.

“You can’t run from me, Ava,” Troy teased, his chilling voice creeping closer.

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