Page 50 of Bound By Secrets

“You need to go inside, Calliope.” I shake my head from side to side and take a few steps back.

“No, I’ll wait for Connor and Callum.” I turn, planning to run down the driveway, but as soon as I take another step, I hear a thump behind me from Paul jumping down the steps. Paul lunges at me, wrapping his arms around my middle and lifting me from the floor. I drop my bag and start punching and kicking him.

“Let me go!” I shout, hoping someone will hear me.

I wouldn’t usually react like this, but after recent events, I’m tired of putting up with everything they’re throwing at me. Colin has assured me that my mother is safe and I’m choosing to trust him right now. I’m done with lying down and letting these arseholes walk all over me.

I manage to smack my elbow into his face and he groans, his grip loosening on me. I try to slip out of his arms but he grabs a hold of my ponytail, yanking me towards him.

“You stupid whore!”

I continue trying to fight him off as he pushes me toward the open door. Once he manages to get me through the threshold, he slams the door closed behind me and pushes me forward until I topple over, hitting the ground.

I lift myself, trying to stand up, and he kicks me, sending me crashing back down. My jaw hits the marble flooring and I’m certain I hear it crack from the force. He pushes his foot into the centre of my back, pinning me to the floor.

“Derek!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the house. “I’ve got the little slut."

I hear two sets of footsteps and I feel my hands slicken with sweat.

Fuck. What have I done?

What was I thinking fighting back like that? How stupid could I be?

As the footsteps draw closer, I rest my head on the cool marble and close my eyes.

I’m going to be fine. Connor and Callum will be home soon. I'll be fine.

My father's snarl breaks through my reassurances to myself. “Calliope, get up!”

Paul removes his foot, and I reluctantly push myself up. As soon as I’m on my feet, my father’s fist connects with my face, sending me back to the floor. His foot is next, slamming into my ribcage so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. A pained grunt escapes me.

“Get up!” he orders. I ignore him for a beat, trying to breathe through the pulsing pain. I push myself up again, this time myeyes connected with his and I openly glare at him, hoping he feels my hatred. He glares back, disgust emanating from him.

“You’re just like your mother, a harlot!” he growls, aiming another punch at my face. I step back, avoiding his fist.

Although I’m shaking from fear, I have an angry fire burning inside of me. “Don’t you dare speak ill of my mother,” I spit.

He charges towards me. I step back, retreating from his fury, but I clash with another body. I jump, and Cameron’s maniacal laughter fills my ears as he links his arms through mine, pulling them behind my back and incapacitating me.

My father reaches for me, so I kick at him, keeping him at a distance. After I land a few blows, he steps back and stops trying to get at me.

“Fine, if this is how you want to be, I’ll call Fraser, give him a freebie,” he drawls. My spine goes ramrod straight and my aching jaw clamps shut.

“No, please!” I shake my head frantically. “No, no, no!”

Cameron yanks on my arms and I scream from the immense pain. “Shut up!” he shouts, then turns to Dad. “I’ll put her downstairs until he gets here.”

My father nods and walks away, ignoring my pleading as Cameron hauls me against him and proceeds to drag me towards the hatch in the kitchen. I thrash around, causing myself discomfort as my arms feel like they’re being pulled out of the sockets. I try to kick him, but my efforts are useless.

Paul walks past him and opens up the hatch.

“Cameron, please, no,” I beg, hoping for some sort of mercy.

“Break a leg,” he whispers, shoving me forward. My stomach rolls and a piercing scream leaves my throat as I fall through the hole. I stretch my arms out, trying to grab hold of the ladder or anything else before I hit the ground.

My fingers catch on one of the metal poles and I latch onto it, but my hands are sweaty, so my hold slips, and my back and my legs crash down against the solid floor of the basement.

Fuck. That hurt like a bitch.

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