Page 34 of Power Term

“Even I can do that math,” I croak, then look up to find the two men have stopped talking, their annoyed faces turned to me. “He’s playing you.” Fuck, each word hurts. I’m in desperate need of water for more reasons than staving off dehydration. “Shawn isn’t someone to trust.”

A soft sarcastic chuckle rumbles through the nearly vacant room. Both corners of Shawn’s lips tick upward as he shakes his head.

“No, Trailer. I didn’t play him, I played you. Did you really think I’d let you out of this with your pathetic excuse for a life? I will get what I want, and then you will.”

“What’s that?” But I know the answer. And it’s terrifying to think he might be right.

“For the pain to end.”

With a whisper and nod toward me, the other man advances on me once again. A harsh cry trembles my lips as I brace myself for another hit. This time knuckles slam against my right temple. The force snaps my neck to the left, both eyes rolling to the back of my head as the dark cloud of unconsciousness engulfs me, cutting off other sensations. Yet even with the hard impact of his fist, I subconsciously know he pulled back or I’d be dead.

I work to stay awake, to push back against the demanding need to black out. I can’t do that, not here; who knows what they’ll do to me if I’m that vulnerable? But the sweet pain-free calmness, the oblivion of nothingness, calls to me.

Sounds, smells, even the feel of the heated air along my bare skin fade. Two shadows hover over me, muffled deep voices barely reaching my ears. Something scrapes beneath my nose, making it twitch out of reflex. At least I think it twitches; considering I can’t feel the tip of my nose, there’s no way to know. Fuck, that hurt. Hurts. There’s no end in sight for the relentless throb of agony that now has its own slow pulse along my cheek and jaw.

I reach deep within myself, searching for an ounce of energy or emotion that will keep me from pitching over the edge into oblivion. But there’s nothing there. Even the small glimmer of hope that’s been a constant companion since the wreck has almost faded into nothing as the hours have ticked by and no one has found me.

Like a Red Bull to my veins, energy rockets through me, jostling every cell awake. The world comes roaring back to life, every sound, taste, and smell more vibrant than just moments before. I blink away the dryness crusting my eyes, every muscle thrumming with the need to move as my heart races with excitement, thumping heavily against my ribs.

Nothing hurts. How in the hell does nothing hurt?

Fuck, I could do anything right now if they’d just let me loose.

“Give her more adrenaline. I need her awake.”

“I didn’t hit her that hard, I thought.” I stare at the man whose voice seems soft with concern. Concern about me, probably not, more about getting paid. Like he so eloquently stated before, this is business, not personal. “You’re not the first one who’s requested a woman to be beaten. I know what I’m fucking doing.”

“I’m starting to question that.”

I force my focus on the man’s eyes as they search my face. “She’s coming to. I’ll save the next dose in case we need it later.” With that, he steps out of my sight, but with every nerve ending on overdrive, I can almost feel him standing close.

A heaviness settles in the long strands of hair hanging down my back before it’s yanked and my face is forced to face the ceiling. That should hurt, but it doesn’t. I feel fucking fantastic.

Shawn’s sneering face looms above, his searching gaze sizing me up and no doubt finding me lacking like always.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline speaking, but I feel his hate, loathing, and unending selfishness that bleeds through his eyes into my own. My stomach rolls with a queasy feeling. With nothing in it, only stomach acid rises up my throat, burning in its ascent.

I rip my gaze from his, breaking the connection.

“Make the call to Pierce. Tell him exactly what I tell you to say, and then this ends.”

With his fingers wrapped through my long strands, I don’t dare move to shake my head.

“No.” The word is more of a breath than anything.

The hold in my hair tightens before my head is slammed forward. The room blurs as the tip of my chin connects with my collarbone. I grit through the screech of pain that escapes.

“Make. The damn. Call.”

“How. About. No?” I spit whatever’s in my mouth to the floor, a string of saliva hanging on to the edge of my snarled lips. “Go. To. Fucking. Hell.”

At his rage-filled roar, I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to feel whatever they have planned for me next.

“Again.” Shawn’s voice is harsh, the single word like the crack of a whip.

The mystery man obeys. I hear his heavy exhale and brace myself for what comes next. Just like Shawn ordered, the blows come again, followed by the same demand that I call Sam. Which, of course, is followed by the same response.

Again. And again. And again. This cycle continues until all I know is pain, fear, and hopelessness.

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