Page 90 of Her Faithful Protector

My bandaged hand trembles, pinning the tablet against my thigh while the other grips the stylus pen. Carefully, I execute each stroke. Lines form randomly, thick and thin, alternating without control.

In my career as an artist, I’ve put on paper every spectrum of human emotion imaginable. This time, the subject of my art is the man I love, and the result is a haunting portrayal of a helpless face resigned to its impending demise.

I refuse to acknowledge that it’s Jack for fear that it will consume me. I must press on, driven by my fear of Willem’s insanity. His sick wish must be fulfilled, or I risk testing his already dwindling patience tonight.

Jack lets out a moan, calling my name.

In a display of brutality, Willem delivers a savage punch to Jack’s mouth.

I jolt, causing the pen to slip from my fingers.

“You’re going to capture this too, aren’t you?” Willem revels at his new creation, a grin stretching across his face. He hurls the pen back at me, commanding me to continue drawing.

“She’ll never be yours,” Jack’s words emerge muffled from his split lip, his voice strained and weak.

Willem’s fury grows, and he crushes Jack’s injured arm. The sickening crunch of the rigid tape wrapping Jack’s flesh terminates my breath as if giving me a taste of what death will be like.

Despite the agony, Jack grits his teeth, refusing to give Willem the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

Willem scoffs at the show of resilience. “So it’s true. Marines take pain well. But I know I’ve broken you.”

He snatches the tablet from me, thrusting the sketch in front of Jack’s face. “Look at yourself!” he taunts, his voice sparked with delight. “Sunk. Hopeless.” Contentment spreads across his features as he tucks away the tablet.

Speaking feels like an uphill battle, but I have to try. “You know how important children are to me, Willem. It’s not gonna happen between me and him.” My words feel foreign and feeble as they escape my lips. My voice is drowned out by the magnitude of Jack’s suffering, but the thorns of my own lie quell me.

In a display of intrigue, Willem averts his gaze from Jack.

With my hope evaporating, I force myself to declare, “Let’s try again. We can go back to how we were. It’s not too late, you know that. You want that.”

He grips my neck, then caresses my hair with an eerie vibe. “See, once trust is broken, it takes more than words to fixit. I don’t know if I have enough time or patience to let you prove your loyalty.”

“We’ll disappear together, and no one will find us. There will be no need for time or patience, as I will only have you to lean on. Youwillhave my loyalty.”

He pushes me into a corner, the furthest one from where Jack is. The cold, sterile wall presses against my back.

Unexpectedly, he lets me go and takes a few steps backward. The physical separation only amplifies my worry. Something in him is about to erupt.

“Take off your shirt,” he commands. His eyes fixated on me like an eager spectator awaiting a thrilling show.

I glance at Jack, his tear-streaked face begging me not to comply. Silently, I communicate to him that everything I do from this point on is for his safety before diverting my gaze completely. The weight of my dignity presses on my conscience as I contemplate its worth in this desperate situation.

“Not here,” I decide.

“A shy whore. You’re disappointing me, darling.” Willem’s eyes narrow, and a sinister leer crosses his face as he glances at his right-hand man.

The bearded man exchanges his gun for a knife. Dread claws at my skin. Almost as if in response to the sight of the gleaming blade, my left hand throbs with pain. That man has already taken one from me. What’s the extent of harm he will inflict on Jack?

“Take it off. Strip yourself!” Willem roars.

The fear in my veins pulsates, but I refuse to let him break me completely. “Not here, Willem!” I keep protesting. I have a plan, but right now, I’m trying to figure out how to spare Jack from the next round of torture.

But I’m too late. The bearded man stabs Jack’s biceps, andblood gushes from the wound. Jack stifles a scream, his face drenched in sweat, the redness evincing the pain he can no longer contain.

“Please, stop!” I scream and remove my shirt, exposing myself to Willem’s prying eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack shakes his head, his lips trembling with unspoken words. Willem mocks me as if repulsed by my shirtless body. “You could have been more graceful, seducing me like you once did.” But the instant his gaze falls upon my exposed cleavage, his self-restraint wavers.

He pins me against the wall, grinding his pelvis against mine while his lips explore the sensitive skin at the top of my breasts. Impatience infiltrates his breath as he unzips my pants, his hand slipping in behind the fabric.

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