Page 44 of The Devil's Den

“Screw you!” My palm reaches his face, my fingers clawing into his cheek to shove him away, to hurt him. “I wish I had the guts to end your pathetic life.”

He catches my hand, bending my fingers until I scream. “By tonight, you’ll wish I had ended yours. Now let’s go. You have people to entertain.”

Terror settles thickly over me, my body breaking into a full tremor as he drives a palm into my back, pushing me all the way down to the end of the room, until we reach a black, unassuming door. With two knocks, it parts slowly, a masked man behind it, only the bottom half of his face uncovered. My throat closes as my father shoves me inside.

“She’s new. Completely fresh. Never been touched before.”

I gasp, my eyes widening, tears welling as I back away, but my father holds me down with an arm enclosed around my throat. A horrid smile slinks over the man’s face, his knuckles running down in between my breasts, and nausea churns in the pit of my stomach. “We’ll take care of her, don’t you worry.”

“I’ll be back to get her in an hour,” my father tells them. “Make sure you’re dressed by then,” he says to me, his voice swarming up my neck, causing me to wince, my fingers trembling.

Once he drops his hand away, he’s out the door, leaving me among the ruins, as though I don’t matter at all. But that’s because I don’t.

I stand there, shivering, my arms rounding the front of my body. Hiding. Wanting to disappear. I almost miss the other man in the same gold mask, sitting down on the chair, a leg raised over his other, a glass of something in his hand as he watches us.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” The hand of the man before me lands on my ass, squeezing my body to him, another reaching under my dress, a finger sliding where I’ve never been touched before.

No, no, no!I scream in silence.

Heart stabbing. Skin prickling. My father can’t be this vicious. He can’t do this to me! “Please! Let me go!” I fight his hand away, trying to run, to escape, but with a sinister chuckle, his fingers bite into my flesh until it hurts.

“Why would I ever do that?” He squeezes harder. “I paid good money for this and we’re going to enjoy every last dime.”

The tears…they’re falling now, trickling out of me, while his hands split apart the dress. What will I wear home now? That’s the first thought which hits me when he grabs my arm.

My bare skin is on full display as he yanks me toward his friend who places his drink down on the table beside him, patting his lap.

I don’t have to guess what they’ll do. I’m not naïve. These men, they’re going to tear away the one thing I promised to save for Matteo, the one thing we promised to save for each other, and my father, he managed to take that away too.

I’m thrown on top of his lap, and a hand slithers from the back of my head, down my spine and to the very depths of me.

When they touch me, when their bodies invade me, I close my eyes. I dream of better things, a better life, filled with Matteo, with Robby.

And I go there, and I don’t let go.

Not until it’s over.

* * *

MATTEO

I groan, my wrists throbbing like hell while I hang there, unsure what time it is or even what day. I’m thirsty, my mouth dry. My face and my back still fucking throb, but none of that matters. I have to get to Aida. I have to make sure she’s okay.

“Aida,” I call to her, but I could barely hear it. “Let me down,” I say, louder, but I don’t think anyone is even here. Minutes blend into one another, hours probably trickling away. And I think I’ll die here. That this is it—until footsteps draw near.

“Hello?” I can hardly lift my head. It wobbles as I do, but through one eye, I see a man.

“Damn,” Stan’s voice mocks with a laugh. “You look like shit.” He drags a chair toward me and stands on it, cutting the rope from my hands. “I guess you would be, considering you were here for nearly twenty-four hours.”

I fall to the ground with a heavy thud. “Fuck,” I mutter. Everything hurts.

He laughs as I stumble.

“W-w-where’s A-Aida?” I slur.

A smile slides to his face and I want to carve it out. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, but when he does, it’s as though he’s shot a bullet straight to my heart. “Her dad sent her to the club yesterday.”

Something inside me shifts, it’s sudden, like a flip of a switch. “What did you say?” The adrenaline courses through me, giving me the strength I’ve lacked.

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