Page 33 of Wrathful King
Eyeing him warily, I wondered—for the hundredth time—if this was real. Nobody could possibly live through this kind of torture. I’d had enough fighting to last me ten lifetimes. Fuck, a hundred lifetimes. I fought to survive. Fought not to be touched. Fought to cling to the memory of my husband.
This place was every woman’s worst nightmare, but every time I contemplated giving up, I’d hear Amon’s voice.
Keep fighting, cinnamon girl.But why? Why should I fight if he was dead?Come back to me.
My husband’s voice in my skull was heaven and hell, paradise and abyss. So close yet so far away.
“We have to remove your implant,” the doctor announced, holding up the knife. He was bald and missing an ear. A scar snaked down his scalp to his right temple and cheek, ending on his neck.
He grabbed a needle from his bag and then signaled to someone on his right. I could hear the heavy thud of boots against the filthy floor.
I waited, bracing myself. Three, two, one.
Another man pounced on me, grabbing me by my left arm. I thrashed and kicked, but my body was weak. They laughed, speaking in Portuguese. Why were they speaking in English before? Maybe it was their sick way to taunt me.
I jerked against his hold, kicking him in his shin. Until…whack!Pain exploded in my temple. Another punch followed. One of them grabbed my arm and shoved me to my knees, hitting a nerve that had a yelp escaping my lips.
“Not so tough anymore, huh?”
“Stop fucking agitating her,” the doctor ordered. “Keep her on her knees and her arm free.”
I went crazy in my attempt to fight them, but I was too weak.
“Fuck that,” he growled. “She’ll suck my cock while she’s down there.”
He pried my mouth open, and in no time, he had his fly unzipped and was yanking out his dick and stuffing it inside my mouth. I glared up at him, my insides raging like a tornado. The thread snapped, just like it had the last time and the time before that when someone tried to touch me.
I bit down and clenched my jaw as the guard let out a wailing howl and blood exploded on my face. He punched me so hard, stars exploded as I grabbed the knife in the doctor’s hand.Jackpot.
The demon inside me unleashed. Adrenaline burst through me, and in one move, I shot to my feet and sliced his dick clean off. I yanked him onto his knees and went for his ear, cutting it off and then stabbing him over and over again.
Another howl. “You’ll never touch me or anyone else again,” I hissed, wiping the blood on my face with the back of my hand, then getting to my feet.
I looked down at the dickless wonder with vindicated satisfaction.
Cortes appeared at the entrance of my cell, blocking my clear path to freedom. I stood still, and just as I thought I might be seeing things, he moved. I didn’t react fast enough. A needle pricked my neck.
I knew what was coming. I couldn’t cry, so I laughed and laughed and laughed, sounding like a lunatic until the drugs took over and I laughed into nothingness as everything turned blessedly black.
* * *
A creaking sound woke me up and I gasped, sweat slicking my skin.
Blinking hard and feeling disoriented, I looked around but saw nothing—nothing but darkness. Dim light from outside my prison made shadows move across the walls. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, and I knew someone was watching me. My eyes darted around the cell, searching for danger.
The whispers of my breath were all I could make out. The pounding in my chest increased, pumping adrenaline through my veins.
“Who’s there?” I rasped, my throat dry. I must have been drugged again. It left a taste in my mouth I’d grown accustomed to.
My trembling hands cut a path down the length of my body, searching for evidence of assault. There was blood and filth, bruised and broken flesh, and my nightgown had been changed sometime in the night, but that was it.
I shifted slowly from the cold, hard floor and pulled my knees to my chest, my eyes adjusting. It resembled the shadows in my mind and in my soul.
Another soft noise came from my left. My eyes snapped in its direction, and I saw it. Two bodies in the far corner of my cell. The whites of their eyeballs stared at me with a void that I felt in my heart.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice so raw it was unrecognizable. I held my breath, waiting for a response. There was none. Several stilted seconds passed, and then a wheeze. “I can see you moving,” I called out, shifting forward on my hands and knees. “What do you want?”
The sound of a body slumping to the ground. No, not one body, but two. I could barely process what I was seeing. One set of eyes with a blank stare, and another whose eyes were welling with desperation, his mouth moving soundlessly.
