Page 43 of Breaking Boston

“You're mine, sweet thing, whether you like it or not, your ass is fucking mine—pun intended.” He kisses my forehead, thrusting the gun in my mouth until I gag on it. Satisfied, he slides it out, tucks it into his waistband covered in my spit, and shoves me away from the door. He leaves my room and locks it from the outside, trapping me to wallow in misery and pity.

I did this to myself. I shouldn't have come back here. But I couldn't leave my things behind. I take out my parent's journal, my saving grace after all these years, and sit down on my bed, the tears falling instantly.

I couldn't leave this behind. It was the only piece of them I had, and with them dead, it was the only piece of them I'd ever have now.

SIXTEEN

THE MASKS

LUX

We hadn't heard from Boston in three days, and by that point, Donovan and I were starting to worry. Did she try to take her own life and succeed this time? Did she leave town so we couldn't find her? A million questions ran through our heads, and we didn't have a single fucking answer for any of them.

Not until we showed back up at the warehouse.

We walked into Remy's office with our masks on, spotting her sitting on his lap with a miserable look on her bruised face. We had left her with bruises and bite marks around her neck, but her face was untouched. Now, the poor little thing was black and blue from head to toe. She wouldn't even look at us as we stood there, but she knew it was us. Donovan and I tried our best to ignore the dreaded feeling that settled in our bones, but fuck, it was hard.

"Ah, gentlemen, nice of you to come around," Remy growls with a grin, rubbing his hand on Boston's thigh as she sits there, distant and numb. "What do you have for me?"

I drop an envelope full of cash onto his desk, and Donovan does the same, both of us unable to rip our eyes off of Boston, her appearance still shocking us.

"It's all there," Donovan says. "What the fuck happened here?" He raises his voice, making Remy shove Boston to the floor as he gets to his feet.

"None of your fucking business." He stares at Donovan, his upper lip quivering as rage begins to take over.

We took a step forward, ready to defend Boston, but before any of us could react, she spoke up.

"It was my fault," she said quietly, still not making eye contact with any of us. "I messed up. It's not Remy's fault."

Donovan and I exchanged glances, unsure of what to do next. We couldn't just leave her there, but we also couldn't risk making things worse for her.

Remy's anger seemed to subside as he looked at Boston with a twisted sense of fondness. "You're damn right. It's not my fault," he said, his tone shifting to something almost tender. "You know you belong to me, Boston. Don't forget that."

As he reached out to grab her arm, I knew we had to act fast, even if it meant fucking ourselves over in the process. Without a word, Donovan and I lunged at Remy, pulling him away from Boston with a mean right hook to his mouth and pinning him to the ground.

"You have no idea what you're fucking doing, boys. You're going to regret this, I promise you," Remy says, wiping blood from his bottom lip, his tone sending a shiver down my spine.

"Let's get out of here," Donovan said, helping Boston to her feet as I kept an eye on Remy.

We made our way out of the office, Boston's shaky steps matching the beat of our racing hearts. Once we were outside and far enough away, I turned to her, determined to make things right. "We're getting you out of this," I told her, my voice unwavering. "You don't belong to him, Boston. You belong with us."

She rips her hand out of my hold and backs up, shaking her head. Silence falls around us, honking horns and fierce winds becoming nothing more than a backdrop to her heavy breathing.

"I don't deserve your help," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the noise of the city. "I've made too many mistakes."

I step closer to her, ignoring the chaos around us. "We all make mistakes, Boston. That doesn't mean you have to suffer for them."

Donovan places a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this. We're here for you, no matter what."

Tears fill Boston's eyes as she looks at us, and for the first time, I see a glimmer of hope in them. "Thank you," she says. "But I don't need your fucking help."

The look she gives us cuts like a knife to the heart, but I should've expected it. In such a short time, "King and D" managed to fuck everything up for her. She wasn't too fond of Lux and Donovan right now, either, and it made me feel completely deflated. All we wanted to do was help her find her way in this cruel fucking world. We wanted her to be happy and to find peace with us so that the three of us could live happily, just like we always planned to do.

But nothing was working out.

She paces the sidewalk, snow crunching under her feet as more continues to fall from the gloomy sky. Donovan and I stand here, our masks on, hands in our pockets, waiting to hear what she has to say. She looks broken, even more than before. The sad look in her blue eyes breaks me into fucking pieces, and I can tell it's fucking with Donovan, too. She plays with the bracelet around her wrist—the same one we left for her so many years ago—like it's a comfort thing for her.

"What can we do?" Donovan asks, grabbing her attention and pulling her out of the zone she found herself in.

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