Page 23 of Jagged Souls
I was born into a family of assassins that were called to do the dirtiest of deeds. I have violence to my name and sins etched into every tattoo covering my skin.
I was beaten until I could withstand torture.
I have kept secrets I would’ve been all too happy to spill because I am a fighter.
Because I’m a fucking Black.
Because I’m a fucking Shadow. Wife to Varius Shadow himself.
But right now…
In this moment, in this pinpoint of time that has warped my world to fit inside its vice, all I am is a victim.
Just athingfor these men to use.
Not even human.
Sadist’s fingers slip under the top of my underwear, and as the entirety of me wants to recoil, to sink into the table and flee from his touch of disease, he tears the cotton apart.
The rip of it resonates in my soul, terrifying and final. My last poor, pathetic defense is torn away, leaving me bare and helpless.
Reducing me to nothing but a shell of shame.
And I freeze.
Despite my want to fight back, despite convincing myself it’s still a way I can take control, still the ‘best option’ when I know doing so won’t get me killed because Antonio wants me alive…
I can’t.
My limbs are frozen.
My lungs are frozen.
Every fucking atom inside of me is frozen.
So even when Sadist looks down at my pussy and laughs, I can’t find the strength to keep fighting. If he had a knife… if I was being held down to be murdered, butchered on this table like a pig, I’d still be full of rage and spitting fire.
But instead, it’s a finger he pushes against my flesh. A precursor to his cock – weapons I can survive if I just relax and don’t fight back. And that betrayal from my own body, that instinctive need to survive even when I want to go out fighting, when I want to resist so I can scream I didn’t want this, that I tried everything I could to stop it… That betrayal makes me hate myself.
Makes me feel dirty in my own skin, my soul blackened even beneath the touch of his poison.
So as Sadist traces a finger over the tattoo on my pussy, I don’t fight him.
I can’t.
I just lie here, the survival instinct forcing me still.
“Well, fucking hel. Look at this, boys,” Sadist purrs. “This whore’s the property of Varius Shadow.”
There’s a sudden hush in the cafeteria. The grips on my hands and feet unconsciously loosen. One of the men not holding me down even steps back with a nervous energy, and a flare of hope ignites within me.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be so rough –” one starts.
“If Varius finds this place –” another says.
“He won’t,” Sadist snaps, irritated that no one is sharing in his fun.
And now I laugh, relief pouring through me and making me sound mad. “He will,” I promise them. “Because we’re fucking bonded, and he can feel exactly where I am.” I lift my head up off the table as I look at Sadist, but I don’t strain against the men holding my arms. Not yet. “He’s coming for me even now, and when he gets here, he’s going to take every last one of you back home with us.” I shift my gaze to the two men holding my feet as I let my words penetrate the heavy air.
