Page 202 of Brutal Prince

Indi

I’m dead inside. Dead, and cold, and crawling with maggots. But my lips are still tingling. I guess they haven’t got the message yet. They still think this is all in good fun; a little roughhousing before the main attraction.

If I weren’t a corpse, I’d be spewing up everything I’ve ever eaten. But all I do is lie here with my legs wide as they can go while Marcus positions himself by my pussy.

“You sure she’s a virgin?” Marcus says. “Never seen one with a shaved cunt before.”

I swallow hard, and wonder if Briar can feel my throat moving under his hand.

“Don’t fight this,” Briar says. “Just be a good girl, and take it all.”

My brain seethes in quiet fury at his words, but it’s the only thing still alive in my dead, dead body. I barely feel Marcus’s fingers on my folds, opening me up.

“I said don’t fight it!” Briar’s eyes flicker past me, but return so fast I could have imagined it.

The gun.

He was looking at the gun.

It’s a few feet away from me, but still out of reach.

“You holding her, bro?”

“Yeah. But she’s a good girl. She won’t fight you.”

“She will when I’m in,” Marcus says through a chuckle. “When I rip this pretty pussy in two.”

He strokes my folds, and it’s as if something inside my mind snaps. I scream. Briar’s hand closes over my mouth. Then I sink my teeth into his fingers.

He jerks away his hand with a shout of pain, and that’s when I buck with all my might. Marcus sits back, one hand on his cock, the other cupping his balls.

Told you — drop a bomb, and they always go for their nut sacks. I draw in my leg and kick out as fast as I can, slamming Marcus’s own hands into his genitals.

He screams as he falls backward, but by then I’m already twisting, arm stretching for the gun.

The metal’s ice-cold against my fingers. I drag it close, grab the grip, and twist to face Marcus.

But he’s not there anymore.

I sit up in a rush.

Briar and Marcus are on the far edge of the mattress. Briar has both hands around Marcus’s neck, and Marcus is trying to wedge open his fingers as his face starts swelling with trapped blood.

The gun bobs and weaves until I slap my one hand over the other.

I’ve never shot a gun.

I’ve never even watched enough action movies to have any idea how this thing works.

But I saw Marcus draw back the hammer, so I do that. And I know what a trigger is, so I curl my finger around it.

“Shoot him!” Briar yells.

But I can’t. Not yet. I’d probably end up hitting Briar in the back of the head. “Let him go!” I yell. “Then I’ll shoot.”

“Just fucking shoot him!”

Marcus abandons his attempts at tearing Briar’s hands off his throat. Instead, he slams a fist into Briar’s groin.

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