Page 113 of The Devil's Wrath

Theo had saved me as much as I had saved him. We were two broken pieces that fit together, mending each other’s shattered edges. And now, this asshole threatened to tear us apart once more.

“You’re a monster.” I swallowed hard, trying to quell the fear in my throat.

“Monster?” He laughed. “I prefer to think of myself as an artist. And you, like many others, are my masterpiece in the making.”

He brought the knife down to my thigh, the cold metal pressing against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. With a swift, precise motion, he sliced through the material, exposing my flesh. I inhaled sharply as the blade nicked my skin, a thin line of blood welling up. He watched me, a cruel smile on his face, before he ripped and cut the remaining fabric from my body, taking his time as he roughly fondled my breasts and shoved his hand between my legs before leaving me bare before him.

“Such a shame to mar this perfect canvas,” he mused, his eyes roaming over my body with a predatory gleam. “But every work of art requires sacrifice.”

He cut into my thigh, the knife slicing deep. I bit back the scream in my throat, not wanting to give this sick fucker the satisfaction of knowing I was in pain.

“I’m going to carve you up, piece by piece. And when Theo finds your broken, mutilated body, he’ll know that he failed you. That he couldn’t protect the woman he loves. It will destroy him. His rage will make him reckless. And when he’s on his knees, begging for your life. I’ll savor every moment of his despair before I slit his throat in front of you.”

The image of Theo, broken and bleeding, flashed through my mind, and a raw, primal scream tore through my throat. I thrashed against my restraints, not caring as the ropes cut deeper into my flesh.

“I’ll kill you!” I screamed, my voice raw and furious. “I swear to god, I’ll rip your fucking heart out!”

He watched my outburst with amusement. “There’s that fire,” he purred. “Save your strength,krasota. You’re going to need it.” Heglanced at his watch, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “It’s almost time for our next session. But first, I think we should give your beloved Theo a little preview of what’s to come.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. My eyes widened in horror as he turned the phone’s back camera toward me, a beeping sound signaling he was on a FaceTime call. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart,” he taunted. “Let’s give your betrothed a show he won’t soon forget.”

He propped it up on a nearby table, angling it to capture my bound, bleeding, naked form. I turned my face away, refusing to look at the phone.

“Now, don’t be shy,” he chided, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing me to face the phone. “We want him to see every exquisite detail of your suffering. Tell him how much it hurts. Beg him to save you.”

I set my jaw, refusing to answer.

“Silent treatment, hmm? No matter. Your screams will do.”

With a sudden, vicious motion, he plunged the knife back into my thigh. A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it, echoing off the damp walls. Pain exploded through my leg, white-hot and blinding. Blood gushed from the wound, dripping onto the ground.

He yanked the knife out, admiring the crimson staining the blade. “Beautiful,” he breathed, running his tongue across it. “Absolutely exquisite.”

Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood and grime. But still, I refused to beg. “Is that all you’ve got?” I taunted through gritted teeth. “I’ve had paper cuts that hurt worse.”

Fury contorted Igor’s features, and he untied me from the chair and slammed my back into the ground, my hands still bound. The knife trailed down my neck, the point digging in just above my collarbone. I held my breath, bracing for the agony. When the sound of his jeans unzipping filled my ears, dread consumed me. He forced my legs apart, kneeling between them.

“You want to play tough,suka? Let’s see how tough you are when I’m done with you.”

He sheathed his knife and grabbed my hips, yanking me towardhim. I thrashed and fought, kicking my legs, but he merely laughed, backhanding me hard across the cheek. Dazed, I could only watch in horror as he freed himself from his jeans.

His hand closed around my throat, squeezing. “Struggle all you want,” he sneered. “It only makes it better for me,” he breathed in my ear. “You might enjoy it.” His hot, fetid breath made me gag. “Your husband is watching. Let’s give him a good show, shall we?”

Tears leaked from my eyes, but I fixed my gaze on a crack in the roof. I wouldn’t look at him or let him see how he was breaking me. I couldn’t let Theo see my face as the life left my eyes. Igor forced himself into me with a brutal thrust, tearing through my core as I tried to clench my muscles and keep him out of me. A scream bubbled up from my throat as an explosion of pain consumed my entire being. He pounded into me mercilessly, grunting with each violent snap of his hips. Bile rose in my throat as his sweat dripped onto my skin, his weight crushing me, suffocating me.

“Look at the camera,” he snarled, gripping my jaw and wrenching my face toward the phone. “Let him see your pain. Let him see how I’m destroying you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears streaming down my temples. I couldn’t bear for Theo to witness this, to see me so broken and defiled. But Igor’s fingers dug into my cheeks, his nails cutting crescents into my skin. “Look!” he roared.

Sobbing, I forced my eyes open, staring directly into the camera. I prayed Theo would see beyond my tears, beyond the devastation etched into every line of my face. I prayed he would see the love, the apology, the goodbye. Because in this moment, I knew I wouldn’t survive this. Igor would use me until nothing was left, a husk of the woman Theo loved.

And I couldn’t let that be his last memory of me. Summoning every shred of strength, I mouthed the words, “I love you,” to the phone, hoping he could read my lips through the haze of tears and agony. Igor slammed into me one final time, his body stiffening as he found his release.

Revulsion shuddered through me as he collapsed on top of me, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. He rolled off me with a satisfiedgrunt, tucking himself back into his jeans. I lay there, broken and bleeding, my body no longer my own.

He ended the call, putting the phone back into his pocket. The cold concrete bit into my bruised skin, the chill seeping into my bones. With a groan, I rocked myself to a sitting position, every muscle screaming in protest. He watched me with a cruel smirk, his eyes roaming over my exposed flesh with a sick sort of appreciation. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Still trying to be strong. It’s almost admirable, in a pathetic sort of way.”

“Fuck you.”

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