Page 379 of Vicious Saint
“Jimi!” I work my wrists even harder. “Jimi! Wake the fuck up!”
Nothing.
A roar bursts from my chest so loud the big shirtless motherfucker Boris swings open the door.
He glares at me, then at Hendrix, but when he takes in her unconscious body, his expression turns into a deadly shade of black.
One that I happen to know all too well.
I’m thrashing like a beast again in the seat as he strides over to her, picking up a hammer and pliers.
“I must say…your princess girlfriend has some really beautiful breasts.” He stops in front of Hendrix, rubbing one of her nipples with the tip of the pliers.
“Touch her, motherfucker, and you’ll be signing your death warrant.”
Boris laughs, then squeezes one of Hendrix’s nipples between the jaws of the pliers, making her cry out in agony.
A raging storm crashes through me in waves so violent, I manage to crack one of the legs on the wooden chair mid thrash.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” I seethe. “I’m gonna rip out your heart and feed it to your master raw.”
Boris pays me no mind as he releases Hendrix’s nipple, leaving her crying and panting as he circles around to her back. “Such a beautiful ass too. Imagine all the fun I can have with it.” He spins the hammer around his fingers. “So…much…fun.”
As discreetly as my punching heart will allow, I continue loosening rope behind me, feeling relief from the first signs of my wrist sliding through.
That is, until Boris spreads Hendrix’s ass cheeks wide.
“Oh, boy.” He tsks. “Seems somebody already got to her little asshole.”
Blood sloshes violently in my ears as I remember what I did to Hendrix less than twenty-four hours ago. How swollen and uncomfortable she’s been since.
Self-hatred rears its ugly head, but I swallow that shit down fast, needing to focus on getting this motherfucker’s attention on me before he does the worst of the worst to Hendrix.
And from the looks of where the hammer is pressing he isn’t far off.
“Saint…” Hendrix winces and jerks her body. “Look away. Now.”
Yeah, right.
I’d let this motherfucker kill me before I let her suffer alone.
“Stay with me, baby, okay? Pretend we’re in our own little world.”
Hendrix nods, squeezing her eyes shut, and I shoot a glance at Boris, who thank fuck is back to examining Hendrix’s ass with the back of the hammer.
Along with loosening the bindings, I use this time to siphon through what I remember reading about him through the Ivanov files, knowing the only way to make guys like him and me tick is through something personal.
Or better yet, someone.
Just like that, a memory hits. Specifically of a quiet blonde who attended Riverside for less than a year.
“Oh, shit!” I cackle, throwing my head back. “Now I remember why you look familiar.”
Boris’ hand freezes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Anna, right? That’s your daughter’s name?”
“What do you know about my daughter?” he asks, eyes narrowed to slits.
