Page 118 of Sardonic Burn

Tears start rolling down my cheeks, and I’ve never felt so much disgust in my life. I stay there, motionless, praying that he finishes soon. His kiss feels like I’m being skinned alive, like someone is peeling my flesh, layer by layer, until I can feel the coldness in my bones.

It’s disgusting.

And I don’t return it.

It pisses him off more.

He pulls away and licks his lips, some of my blood transferring onto him. He has a satisfied grin on his face.

“You allowed your sworn enemy to fuck you raw in a fucking restroom, but you can’t return my kiss? It hurts, Noelle.”

When I think it’s finally over, it actually starts.

For each rejected kiss or touch, he hits me. He doesn’t say anything while he’s hitting me, but he is careful not to hit my face unless it’s a slap. But he is punching me directly in the gut, twisting my hands until I scream in pain, and then he kisses me again.

And all I can do is pray that this will all be over soon.

But it’s not.

Dylan visibly gets upset, then snaps his fingers. In no time, two men emerge from the stairs, one of them carrying a piece of paper. Dylan inspects it, his eyes darting between the paper and me a few times, all while keeping a mocking grin on his face.

“Sign this.” He shoves the paper in front of me, and the blood drains from my face.

“No,” I state loudly. “You can break both of my wrists before I even think about signing it.”

It’s a marriage certificate. Dylan does have a lot of connections, so I’m not surprised that he managed to get it. It does bother me how quickly he is able to grab something that important. It either means he’s been holding onto this for quite some time, or he did it earlier in the day.

I’m not sure which one is more terrifying.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Noelle,” he whispers. He bends down to my level and strokes the cheeks he had so much fun hitting a while ago. “Sign it and all of this will be over.”

“Will it?” I laugh bitterly. “It can’t be over until you’re dead, Dylan. I am not signing it.”

His jaw clenches as he digs his nails into my skin. I don’t move a muscle, don’t flinch, and don’t give him any sort of reaction. It pisses him off more that it’s not as painful as he hoped it would be.

“Fine,” he spits. “Have it your way, but don’t forget that I gave you a choice. Try not to hate me too much.”

The frown on my face is replaced by shock. The two men approach me and remove the shackles from the wall while keeping them on me. They grab my forearms and start dragging me up the stairs. No matter how much I toss and try to fight them, it’s impossible.

The chains on my body are too heavy for me to be able to defend myself.

I’m placed in the living room. I’ve been to Dylan’s main home and even summer houses, and this place is neither of them. It’s new, as if he bought it for this purpose only. That’s not the terrifying part.

It’s what I see in front of me.

A giant tub filled with water and ice. It’s in the middle of the room, with one chair on the other side of it. Immediately, alarms go off in my head, and I know what’s waiting for me. Especially because I’ve read in Ray’s files that this is the same torture method they used on Dylan’s father.

One of the men kicks the back of my knee, and I slump down. Dylan grabs the chains that are tied around my wrists and yanks me forward until I’m standing right in front of the tub.

My heart is thumping in my chest.

But I’m not afraid.

Maybe I’ve passed the limits of normal fear and I’ve just gone numb. It’s for the better. It won’t hurt as much if I don’t feel the pain. All I need to do is dissociate myself from this situation, like I’ve done many times in the past.

“You’re going to torture me until I cave in?”

“Torture? Goodness, no.” He feigns hurt, placing his hand over his chest. “It’s merely a method of persuasion, Noelle. This doesn’t even have to start. All you need to do is sign the paper, and I won’t be forced to hurt you.”

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