Page 277 of His To Erase
I laugh. “You knew who I was. You knew what I came from. But you thought all you had to do was buy me and wait for the crown.” I take a step forward. “You never once thought about who I’d become once you did, did you?”
He blinks, and the guards shift a little closer.
“You don’t own me, Frank. You bought a body, not a soul. And you’re about to choke on the difference.”
The table shakes as he slams his hand down. “Enough.”
I shake off the guard with a force that surprises even me. Frank looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.
“You want to talk about souls?” Frank laughs. “You think I give a fuck who you’ve become? You’re a signature. A means to an end. You’re a bloodline wrapped in tits and a tight little cunt. And I will use every inch of you until there’s nothing left but what I need.”
The guards shift again, but no one speaks. Even the man in the suit is frozen, caught somewhere between horror and denial.
Frank steps closer. “You’re going to sign the papers. I’m going to collect what’s mine. Then I’m going to fuck the fight out of you. Got it, bitch.”
He says it with the kind of calm that sends a chill down my spine.
“I’ll take you upstairs, dress torn, face bruised, and I’ll show every one of my men what happens to a mouth that doesn’t knowwhen to shut.” He smiles. “And then… I’ll make you beg. For mercy. For silence. For death. And I’ll deny you all three.”
I can’t breathe. I’m frozen in something colder than fear, something deeper than pain. It settles low in my stomach, like whatever’s left of me is folding in on itself. And maybe itisrage, but not the loud kind.
I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I do know one thing—I'm going to make his life a living hell. Every minute he keeps me here, every breath he takes thinking he’s won, I’ll be unraveling the seams.
He can either put a bullet in me or I’ll find a way to burn this place down and walk out through the ashes. Either way, he’ll wish he did kill me. Because once this is over—if I’m still breathing—I’ll make sure he regrets ever learning my name.
Frank reaches down and pulls something from his belt. It’s a switchblade. The click of it snaps through the room louder than anything he’s said. He nods once and the guard behind me moves immediately.
Hands grab my arms—tight—and another slaps over my mouth before I can make a sound. Then I feel the cold metal at my throat.
Frank leans in, so close I can feel his breath as he whispers, “Sign.”
The lawyer whimpers something about duress—but Frank doesn’t flinch. “Sign it, and I might give you the night off,” he says again, pressing the tip hard enough to break skin. I feel the sting and a bead of warmth sliding down my neck.
“I’ll count to five.”
The knife presses harder against my throat as I reach for the pen even though I don’t want to. Every cell in my body screams at me not to. But this isn’t about pride anymore, this is survival. And survival means biding your time.
My fingers curl around the pen and it shakes slightly in my grip, and for a second, I can’t even see the page—only the shimmer of blood on Frank’s wrist, the way his jaw ticks with triumph.
I sign my name and he lets go of me the second the ink hits the paper, and the knife drops from my throat like I’m suddenly not worth the effort.
He claps once. “There she is,” he says. “My perfect little bride.”
The priest stares at the paper like he’s witnessing a war crime, but he signs it anyway. His hand shakes as he stamps the final seal.
“That’s it?” I rasp. “It’s done?”
“I’m never done,” he says, stepping closer. “You think this was about paperwork?” His voice is low now, almost pleasant. “No,princess. This was about proof. I needed to own you legally before I broke you completely.”
My stomach rolls as he leans in, brushing hair behind my ear. “You’re not going back to a pretty bedroom. You’re going downstairs.”
I freeze. “What?”
Basement? What’s in the basement? Oh God.
“The basement,” he says. “Is soundproof. Steel door. One window. No lock on the inside.”
I try to step back, but the guards are already moving. One grabs my arm again as Frank watches me with that same sick smile. The lawyer flinches. “That’s not what we agreed?—”
