Page 101 of Quinlan

My prison. A gilded cage built by three psychos.

The sheets I’m lying on are so soft. Must be expensive. Like everything else in this room and my walk-in closet.

Classy. Stunning.

Not mine.

I’m not here of my own free will. They coerced me. Used my greatest weakness and locked me up.

“Ugh.” I throw an arm over my eyes. Who am I kidding?

I would’ve come running to them, had the three men been honest. Had they asked nicely. I’d have run to any one of their rooms.

Heat spreads between my thighs when I remember this afternoon. My skin stings, body buzzing for him, the marks on my flesh still bright red in the shape of Damien’s teeth.

Stop it, Quinlan.

They haven’t asked nicely. They’re three unhinged assholes. Stalkers. Obsessed and deeply, deeply disturbed.

Damien accused Rex of a crime. It was the first time I heard about him being a foster dad, much less hurting children.

Damien hates him.

Well, I hate his secrecy.

And it’s time I figure out what’s going on. I walk through the events of the day.

The three of them blackmailed me into being their captive. Clearly, they’re on board with what’s happening here.

Whatever they believe Rex did to Damien infuriates the other two men too. Down to their core. A hate they’re willing to commit crimes for.

They’re eager to hurt my half-brother, yet they won’t tell me why.

Rex has a tendency to snap, to be rude. My overprotective older half-brother scares even me sometimes. Plus, all those times he’s ordered me to stay at home to take care of my parents.

But… That was his grief speaking. At least that was what he led me to think.

“Ugh,” another groan. I have no idea what happened; I just know it’s bad.

I remove my arm from my face, looking straight ahead at the shattered television.

Praying for a distraction.

My eyes roam over the room, landing on the bookshelf. This, akin to the closet, has been stocked. A variety of books that seem to be new have been placed there. I looked it over today. Thereare all kinds of books there. Romance novels, autobiographies, traveling and cookbooks.

Feels random.

It isn’t. I’m sure it isn’t.

Nothing about these men has been random. Everything has been orchestrated, evidently. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they paid Ray to ask me out to that bar.

My heart twists at that. I thought Ray’s invitation was genuine. Her concern for me, that didn’t seem fake, either. No. Ray didn’t trick me. Ray likes me.

I could never hate you. I like torturing you. There’s a difference.

Damien likes me too.

He’s an asshole. A deviant. Riling me up turns him on. And he likes me. No doubt about that.

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