Page 186 of Brutal Prince

Indi

Iget myself under control about the same time Marcus is done stripping Addy, which I’m only assuming is the case, based on the sounds I hear and the way Addy’s head shifts on my lap. The rip of a knife slicing through fabric.

My wrists are aching from the pressure of the ropes bound so tightly against them, but it’s nothing compared with the fluttery uncertainty preying on my nerves.

Especially when I hear a zipper being drawn down.

Addy moans around her gag, and presses against me as if she’s trying to get away. Suddenly, it’s not just her head on my lap but her entire upper body. I hurriedly straighten when I feel warm air on the back of my neck, and lean back to get away from what must be Marcus’s hot breath.

There’s a muffled gasp from Addy, a grunt from Marcus. Then the unmistakable sound of two people fucking.

You’d think it would be different. That it wouldn’t sound so downright pornographic. But it does. I guess it’s still just skin slapping against skin. Breath forced out by every thrust — consensual or not.

“For a whore, you still got a tight little cunt, Addy.”

I try to take my mind away, to leave this ungodly moment behind, but I can’t. Not with Addy’s head bumping into my belly. Not with Marcus’s groans filling my ears.

A hand grasps at my breast, and I jerk in surprise at the touch. I try to move away and almost succeed when fingers wrap around my throat and start to squeeze.

I struggle, fighting for breath. Sobs wrack Addy’s body as Marcus fucks her harder and harder against me.

My limbs go cold.

Tingles spread into my fingers and toes.

Suddenly, I don’t give a fuck about anything anymore. It’s black, and so quiet now. There’s pain in my chest, my lungs contracting as my body involuntarily heaves for air, but I still have zero fucks to give.

Because it’ll all be over real soon

I know he’s a liar, but I’m willing to believe him now. I want to believe him. I’m done with this fucking world and my pathetic excuse of a life.

“Ah, fuck, princess,” Marcus groans. His fingers tense even more, and a deeper darkness than the one cast by the pillowcase over my head swarms into me.

Through me.

Around me.

I black out a second after Marcus comes, the sickeningly guttural sound he makes echoing in my ears.

* * *

Briar

Grit crunchesunder my shoes as I head for my family home. A few cops turn to look my way, but none seem that interested in my presence. Why should they be? My dad’s been pissed off at me before. But he protected me before too.

It was probably the only time he ever flew back to Fool’s Gold County because I called. And then it wasn’t even technically me that made the phone call — it was my lawyer.

I’ll never forget the look on his face when he walked into that interrogation room at the local sheriff’s office. How his eyes scoured me and my clothing, as if he was utterly disappointed that I wasn’t wearing handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit.

Rape.

He hadn’t even flinched. But he’d always been good at schooling his emotions, my father.

Except now, looking back, he’d left a trail of clues a freeway wide — I’d just never bothered to question him.

Claim them as yours, son. Claim them and never let anyone else take them from you.

That has been his mantra since I could remember. It was his way of directing his anger at a cheating wife while warning me to make sure my future partner doesn’t fuck around.

---