Page 88 of Maxim

“What’s that, Szymon?” Jan says.

“I think she would be good for a morale boost.”

Jan hums. “It has been a while since we’ve done one of those.”

“What’s a moral boost?” I ask, cutting in.

“A morale boost is one that we’re all allowed to take a turn at before they go to market,” one of the men says as he licks his lips.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Gang rape.

They are talking about doing a gang rape.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. How the fuck did things go so off course?

“Come on, boss. Let us, please?” one of the men begs.

“I bet she’s tight as fuck,” says another.

“Don’t get too excited, boys. She’s too pretty for you all to take a run at her,” Jan says.

The men groan in protest as relief fills me.

Thank Christ.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Not only could I not have raped her, but I don’t think I could’ve let them do it either. The Lord saved me there.

“With that said, though, she still needs to be punished. Szymon, remember, avoid the face,” Jan says.

“Yes, sir,” Szymon says before he kicks her in the ribs.

Unable to look away, I watch as he kicks the shit out of her over and over again. My fists itch to pound Szymon into a pulp, but I can’t. I can’t step in and end this. My hands are tied, and my stomach rolls as I stand by.

Only when she falls silent do I take a breath of relief.

The only thing offering me a level of comfort right now is the fact that her chest rises each time it falls.

Still, it does nothing to ease my guilt. I did this. Bile burns the back of my throat. I put this woman in this place. I brought her here to be beat to hell, and I fucking hate myself for it.

Olena swears I’m a good man, but she couldn’t be farther from wrong if she tried. No, the trauma this girl just experienced is on me. I’m the one who’s to blame for all of her future nightmares, and it’s going to live with me for the rest of my life.

Something is wrong with Maxim.

I could tell the moment he walked through the door. He usually has a smile on his face for me as he asks me how my day has been.

Not today.

Whatever happened today, he needed time alone, and that scares me. He came in, dropped a quick kiss on my lips, then went to take a shower.

I heated up the casserole I prepped earlier in the day and waited for him to come out. When he does, I’m relieved to see that he seems a little better.

“Thank you for making dinner, ???????,” he says as he drops a kiss to the top of my head.

“Of course. Go sit. I’ll make you a plate,” I tell him.

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