Page 76 of Lust

“Now who’s got performance anxiety, or maybe you can’t get it up at all.” Blake keeps going, goading JC until eventually he stops, stepping away from Hannah and scowling at Blake.

“You fucking jealous, Blake? You feeling left out? Guess that’s what happens in a threesome. There’s always one sad fucker on the outer circle.”

“You’d fucking know, JC,” Blake fires back as JC closes in on him. He doesn’t miss a beat as he lands a bone-crunching punch to Blake’s jaw. I bite my lip so hard trying to contain a scream that I draw blood

Blake laughs as he turns back to JC. “Talking about small dicks, I’ve seen bigger on a dog. No woman would willingly fuck you!”

JC roars as he lands another hit to Blake’s face, and I have to close my eyes, wincing at the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

“Fuck, Ro, hurry up.” My other wrist springs free. Roman shuffles down to cut the rope at my ankle but quickly realises his chains won’t reach.

“Oh shit!” I mutter, sitting up a little and taking the knife from him. “Let me do it,” I tell him while he tries to position himself so JC won’t see if he looks over here.

I hack at the rope binding my ankle, and I swear I see smoke at one point from the rapid sawing. I can hear fighting to the side, and Blake’s waning taunts are suddenly bolstered by Pa’s voice.

I tune out and focus solely on cutting this damn rope.

I’m just starting on the other ankle, and the final tie holding me hostage, when I hear JC holler at us.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His bare feet slap against the concrete as he stomps toward us, and I slice faster. My heart racing along with the blade as it tears at the final thread. The flimsy mattress shifts as Roman rises to his feet, blocking JC.

A quick glance at Blake, who is slumped against the wall with his eyes closed and blood pouring from…I don’t even know where spurs me on.

“I’m finished, so you can let the girl and her parents go now.”

“Bullshit!” JC curses, walking away from Roman to come round the bed. As he nears the end of the bed, the rope snaps, and I rise to my knees, holding the knife up and pointed it at him.

“Come near me, and I stab you.” My voice shakes with fear and adrenaline.

JC laughs, and the sound grates on me. “Oh, Summer, it’s sweet you think you’d be capable.” He stalks closer, and my hand shakes as I hold the knife out. “Give me the knife,” he snarls.

I don’t. He’ll have to fight me for it. Because he’s not hurting anyone else.

“Give me the fucking knife!” he bellows, his face turning a deep shade of red, and his jaw tics as he grinds his teeth.

I can feel Roman beside me as he tugs against his restraints, growling and snarling like a rabid dog. If I didn’t know him, didn’t love him, then I’d be terrified by him.

JC jerks forward, trying to snatch the knife from me, but I swipe my arm in an arc. He hisses, pulling away, as it slices his forearm, leaving a long slash in his skin. Blood spills from it, dripping to the ground, but I don’t dare look away.

I wasn’t lying when I told Roman and Blake that Pa taught me self-defence. And now I know why. All the years ofpreaching, all the moments I felt the suffocating disappointment from him and God, all my mistakes, they led me here, to this moment. My life and those of people I love, innocent lives of a family who will forever be tainted by this, hang in the balance.

“Eye for eye.”

“Life for life.”

The principal of reciprocal justice. Until this moment I didn’t understand how God could condone such an act of revenge.

“Fuck!” JC hisses as he turns his arm to inspect the wound I just inflicted on him.

“I warned you. Come near me again and I’ll fucking kill you.” I spit the words at him, full of venom and promise. “Key. For the chains, give it to me,” I demand.

His lip curls up, and his nostrils flare. He reaches for the chain hanging around his neck and slowly slips it over his head. Holding it up, just out of my reach, he says, “Here you go, sweet Summer. Come and fucking get it.”

Roman has stopped, and his upper body is turned in our direction. “Sydney,” he whispers, warning in his tone. I know it’s a trap, and as soon as I reach for the necklace with the key, JC is going to make a move for the knife. But I don’t have a choice.

I lean further forward, closing the distance between the knife and JC’s face, and reach for the necklace. There’s movement in the corner of my eye, but I don’t dare acknowledge it, keeping JC’s gaze, as I place my hand palm up under the key. Slowly raising my hand, I feel the key brush against my palm, and I begin to close my hand around it. I think I’m safe, that I’ve done it.

I was wrong.

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