Page 11 of Brutal Savior

Gabriel’s eyes widen when he sees me. “Hey. You okay?”

“Been better. Eve been in there long?”

“About twenty minutes. It’s all being recorded.”

Brackis eyes me but doesn’t say anything. Good. I don’t want to hear from him right now. I don’t know why his handling of the girl pissed me off so much—it’s not like I haven’t seen much worse—but he reminds me of some of the jumped-up little pricks I met in the army. The sort who use power as an excuse to bully others.

All three of us stare at the girls in silence, and I let myself focus on the woman I can’t help but feel responsible for. I’m the reason she’s here. Indirectly, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.

She’s pale, and dark blue circles ring her eyes, giving them a bruised look. Her cheekbones stand out, and her lips are full in her delicate face. She’s not the sort of pretty that catches your eye immediately, but the more I look at her, the more I want to keep on doing it. There’s something fascinating about her face, her eyes most of all.

They’re icy cold blue, but there’s a sparkle in them even though she looks knackered. If her hair wasn’t dyed that crazy pink color, I’m sure she’d be blond. That super pale Scandinavian look. She’s still wearing the hoodie that caused all the trouble, and it drowns her. She’s tiny.

I’ve always liked girls with a bit of meat on their bones. Strong enough that I’m not worried about breaking them when I throwthem around the bedroom. This girl isn’t my type at all, but I’m still staring. My eyes haven’t left her once.

Gabriel clears his throat awkwardly. “So, what’s the plan? Has Kendrick decided what he’s going to do with her yet?”

Edward flashes before my eyes again, and the image of him nauseates me. She deserves better. She deserves fucking better than being palmed off on some arsehole.

“Depends. I’m going to have a little chat with her.” I don’t stop staring even as I answer Gabriel.

She wouldn’t be a willing submissive. There’s no way. But even the most stubborn person can be taught how to behave with the right encouragement. There’s no one in this whole fucking Compound better trained to handle a badly behaved girl than me. I could make her submit. And, just maybe, I might be able to make her like it, too.

For one long moment, I let my darkest fantasies swirl to the surface. Not the peaceful training of a willing sub, but the careful breaking in of an unwilling one. Using all my skills to mold her into what I need.

I haven’t let myself think about that in a long time, and when I do, a dangerous spike of heat stabs my guts. I could do it. But do I want to?

The right solution presents itself on a silver fucking platter.

I’m going to give this girl one last choice before she loses control of her life forever.

Chapter Five

Quinn

The sweet kindergarten teacher,who, it turns out, is called Eve, manages to be super nice and chatty while telling me absolutely fucking nothing about where I am, why I was kidnapped, or what they plan to do with me. Her eyes keep drifting to the mirror, where people must be watching us.

I shouldn’t be able to eat, given the shit I’ve landed in, but my stomach leaps out of my throat and strangles me as soon as food arrives. It could be drugged, but honestly, at this point, I don't care. I'm starving.

That piece of shit Brackis fastened my legs to the metal chair, which is locked to the floor. He left my hands cuffed too, and the short metal chain connecting them bangs against the plastic tray as I eat. It's simple food, but I'm so hungry it tastes like it came from a fancy restaurant. I inhale half of it and drink the full paper cup of water.

It’s kind of satisfying they think I’m dangerous enough to be denied cutlery and drinking glasses. Like I’m a ninja that couldtake Eve hostage with a butter knife. I wish I was. Shame I gave up on karate classes after a few weeks when I was ten.

“So, where do you work?” Eve asks brightly, though the forced happy note in her voice isn’t fooling me. Every so often, I catch her face twisting into pity before she straightens it out again. She knows what’s up, and it isn’t good.

Part of me wants to spit in her face, but a stronger part tells me she’s not the enemy. She’s way too gentle to be running a human trafficking syndicate, or a drug cartel, or whatever this place is.

People thought Ted Bundy was nice, too.

I try to force all thoughts of serial killers out of my head. That’s the worst-case scenario, and we’re not there yet.

She’s waiting for an answer. “I work in a cafe. ‘Sandwishes.’ It’s beach-themed, and the food sucks, but sometimes the tips are pretty good. In summer when the tourists are around, anyway.”

A strange look passes over her face, one I can’t read. “I’ve been with my friend Billie. We got the milkshakes. They were good.”

“Next time you come in, I’ll get you one for free. Your friend too, if the boss is out. He’s in the bar by three most days. His wife left him last year, so he’s always hitting on twenty-year-olds. It’s pathetic to watch.”

Eve’s smile is sad. “I bet.”

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