Page 38 of Power Term

Plus, on top of all the good I’ve done while in DC, I met him.

Trey Benson.

Mischievous, fun-loving, hot-as-hell Trey Benson. He’s mine, and I’m his. Even if I die today knowing my past choices could’ve kept me from all this pain, I’ll never regret a single one because they all led me to him.

A single warm tear slips down my cheek, leaving a stinging burn in its wake as the salt aggravates the slices across my skin. I should’ve known someone like me wouldn’t be allowed a happily ever after.

All I want is one more kiss, one more smirk, the feel of his protective arms wrapped around me. Just once. Half a second is all I’m praying for. It’s all I’ll need to say goodbye.

Hot dry air wafts across me with the opening of the door, moving the few strands of hair that aren’t stuck to my sticky skin, but I don’t look up. Lids drooping, I continue to stare unseeing at the cracked floor now dotted with drops of crimson.

Soft murmurs reach my ears along with the stomp of feet. Something gentle yet firm slides beneath my chin, raising it off my chest until I’m staring into a set of searching eyes.

My breaths rattle in my lungs. “Don’t do this,” I rasp. “You see it. See he’s crazy. Let me go, please.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkle. He breaks the intense gaze to scan my beaten face, no doubt appraising the work he’s done so far.

“I’ll kill you, end it now before I leave.” The words are low, muffled through the fabric wrapped around his face.

“No thank you?” In my attempt to shake my head, it lolls to the side, my chin slipping off the two leather glove-covered fingers holding me steady. His grip tightens, keeping me upright. “He can’t win.”

“Protect yourself. Give the fuck in.” There’s an urgency in his voice, one that hasn’t been there before now.

“I have to protect them.”

“Who?” I swear his head angles in a curious tilt.

“Everyone.” Exhaustion makes my words slur, or maybe it’s the swollen lips and blood clotting in my mouth. “I swore to protect.”

“You’re a fool,” he hisses.

Looking him dead in the eye, I summon what courage and defiance I have left. “No. I’m the president, and I don’t negotiate with assholes.”

The door swings open, banging against the wall before slamming shut. With zero energy left, I can’t physically turn to identify who’s entered. Instead I cut my eyes to the left and search my periphery to find the asshole himself stomping back into the room.

“I’ve misjudged your tolerance for pain, Trailer. We’ve discussed, and it’s time to change tactics.” I stop tracking Shawn’s calculated steps to search the gaze of the man still crouched in front of me. Eyes narrowed, he stays silent. “We’ve decided to…force you.” Shawn’s Joker-like smile spreads up his cheeks, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

A chill races down my spine at Shawn’s ominous choice of words and the almost desperation emanating from the mystery man.

“No,” I whisper. In my gut, I know what Shawn’s referring to, and I’m not sure I’ll stay strong if one of them forces themselves on me. The pain in my face will fade, my ribs will mend, but the mental damage from being raped by my abductor and captor might never heal—if I live long enough, that is.

“Please,” I beg the man in front of me. Saliva drips off my trembling split lips. Something in the way he’s holding back, not as overly excited like Shawn, makes me wonder if he’s not as keen on this new turn of events. Tears leak down my cheeks as I tug at the restraints, this new horror giving me a shock of desperation-laced panic and making me thrash, cutting the plastic farther into my skin. “You said you weren’t like your friend. Please don’t do this. Kill me, hit me, but not that.” My cries turn into sobs, strangling the words to nearly unintelligible.

The man stands from his crouched position and faces Shawn. “I told you I’m a mercenary for hire,” he states. “I will torture, kill, hunt, and threaten, dishing out whatever the client paying wants, but not that—not what you’re asking. I draw the line at lowering myself to a rapist.”

“You are who I pay you to be.” I flinch at the vehemence in Shawn’s bellow.

“Just let me kill her, get this over with, and we’re done here.”

“You’re the employee, you fool. I hired you. I pay you. You do not tell me what to do.” Nose to nose, Shawn’s yelled words echo off the cinder block walls. “Fall in line or you won’t get the last of the payment. I have more planned for her after this.” His dark eyes find mine from across the room. “Others who will be more than happy to have their fun with our little president.”

I’m a blubbering mess, begging for the man not to do it, to hit me instead or just leave. But one thing I won’t allow to cross my lips is the surrender to Shawn’s demands.

The arguing voices fade into the background as I mentally curl within myself, frightened of what’s to come. The door opens, a waft of hot air drying my tearstained cheeks. A bolt of hope stutters my heart at the thought that it’s Trey breaking down the door, finally here to save me. But it’s not. The man with his face still covered stands with his hand on the door, back to the room, pausing half in and half out when Shawn calls out to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Keep your damn money. My final payment of this contract will be seeing that bastard Benson dead at my hands. Do what you want with her. I did my part, and now I’m out.” Without turning the man continues into the larger part of the abandoned warehouse disappearing as the door falls shut with its own weight.

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