Page 11 of Striker

The creak of the door opening freezes my spiraling thoughts. Heat travels down from my cheeks to my chest. Even though I knew I’d have to face them, sitting in a puddle of my pee wasn’t what I had envisioned. Me screaming and fighting my way out of here, rescuing Delly and getting back home has played repeatedly in my mind, but not this.

God, I wish Clyde had trained me to be a badass like he always said he would when I was a little girl with dark nightmares.

“Little Red.” His voice makes my nipples tighten. Yet another thing to blame Rune for. My fucked up brain mixing terror with pleasure. Not like this situation is helping. Fucking me roughly last night, then killing Rune’s security detail before they kidnapped us is fucking with my mental stability.

Breaker steps closer, his boots scraping on the floor as he comes to a stop near my head. Last night, his boots never came off. Nor his pants or his shirt. An odd thought to have, but those should have been red flags. Then again, I sail toward reg flagslike a lost ship, desperate for the safety of land, not caring about the color of danger flashing in my eyes as long as I may, just may, be safe. If even for a while.

But I should have known. Should have sensed something. Even if I ignore warning signs, I still feel them, see them. And men not disrobing to fuck us was a sign that something wasn’t right. Most men, at least all the men I’ve fucked over the years, are in such a hurry to ram their dick in you they fling off their clothes, discarding pants and shirts in rapid fire succession.

Not these guys. No. They kept everything on, exposing only the parts needed to perform. Every other inch was clothed. The bits of flesh I saw told me nothing. We, Delly and I, were spread open, vulnerable, naked for them, so they could use us in every way.

“Little Red?” This time my stomach clenches at the name he called me as he fucked me. “Please be okay,” he whispers, like he’s talking to himself more than me, and I clench my teeth to stop from snapping at him. If he wanted me to be okay, he shouldn’t have done this, but the ache in his voice is confusing, so I remain quiet. His tone says one thing, but I need to see his eyes to tell if this desperate, slightly scared sound catching in his throat is real or another game they’re playing.

Breaker’s hand slides under my head, so gently that I squeeze my eyes shut. The hood covering my head is removed, and I inhale a breath of cold air.

“Is she okay?” Viper’s voice comes from behind me.

My cheeks burn, making me wish I could sink into the cold floor. I’m dirty, stinking of fear, covered in pee, and bound like an animal in front of the men I fucked. I can’t help feeling mortified. They’re the ones who have done this to me, yet I hate they are seeing me like this. Weak.

Last night, I was treated like a slutty goddess. Right now, I’m a broken whore, lying in a pool of cold urine, so scaredI’m having to clench my jaw to keep terrified whimpers from escaping my throat as dark memories try to take over my present nightmare.

The plastic digging into my bound wrists at my back suddenly snaps. My hands fall to the floor. My shoulders ache, and pain lances through my arms as I shift onto my back. I bring my hands up, wincing at the sharp pains shooting through my shoulders to rub my wrists.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” Viper says.

My eyes blink open, and the first thing I see are eyes the color of winter. Then I see the familiar skull mask covering his head. My gaze travels down to the same black shirt clinging to his muscled chest he wore last night. The same black fatigues. It’s a uniform.

They are soldiers and they don’t want to be identified.

My instincts scream to lash out, hit him, and flee, but logically, I know it’s pointless. I’m short and soft in all the wrong places. They are huge. Strong. Powerful.

Deciding that remaining still in my puddle is the best option for now, I let my eyes drift past Breaker to the room, taking in the dusty yellow light of a bedside lamp, the enormous bed and the worn…everything.Everythingis in a state of decay that makes me think of a horror house. Plaster missing in places, wallpaper torn off in large sheets in some sections, but bubbling and clinging like damaged skin to a wound in others. Rusted posts on the metal bedframe and a worn chair by a vast fireplace, the dark mouth yawning open and cold.

My eyes bounce back to Breaker next to me. “Where’s Delilah?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Viper lowers himself to a crouch. I shrink back a little, not sure how to react to his proximity. He’s kidnapped me. Bound me. Yet I had him in my mouth last night.

My gaze moves to Breaker, crouched by my head. His hand is still cradling my head, his warm thumb caressing my cheek. He’s not wearing his gloves. A quick glance at Viper tells me he isn’t either. A strange satisfaction settles in my belly. There’s something more personal about having them touch me flesh to flesh instead of using gloved hands to force me. It makes me wonder if that concerned glint in their eyes is real. If maybe they feel bad for doing this.

But that’s a dangerous thought. I have to remember we’re playing a game. They told us last night, and we were too stupid to hear it.

They’re the hunters and we’re the prey.

And they’ve caught us, so I better be careful.

Saying nothing else, Breaker leans down further and scoops me up into his arms. My first thought is that my pee soaked skirt is going to dirty his clean smelling shirt, but I swallow the words, reminding myself it’s his fault I was drugged and couldn’t hold my bladder any longer.

Breaker’s long legs eat up the space as he carries me to an open door at the far end of the room. Viper reaches around and switches on a light. I blink at the brightness, taking in the sight of the bathroom and vintage fixtures and tub. Still not speaking, Breaker tugs at the buttons on my shirt. When it registers that he intends to get me naked, I slap his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap, forgetting to be scared.

“You’re covered in piss, pretty Vixen,” Viper says, crossing his arms and leaning against the vanity next to me. He’s still too close. “Would you rather we tied you back up and let you lie in your piss a little longer?”

My cheeks flame, my eyes narrowing on his skull mask, the fangs reminding me of the scrape of his teeth over my clit as he ate up my cum soaked pussy. My eyes fall, too many imagesflashing in my mind, mixing up toxically with shame, making too hard to look at him.

“I didn’t think so,” Viper says, stepping back so he’s next to Breaker. The two men together in the small space remind me I’m not in a position to argue. They could do whatever they wanted to me, and there’s no one here to stop them.

Bad things don’t happen to Rune’s daughter. They never have. Only me.

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