Page 265 of His To Erase
“You ungrateful little bitch,” he snarls, yanking me back up by my arm like I’m a disobedient dog. “I give you everything—shelter, food, a fucking future—and this is how you repay me?”
I try to twist away, but he grips harder, dragging me in closer until I can smell the bourbon on his breath. His eyes are wild with unchecked rage—and he's gone. Whatever version of Frank that was there before is dead.
“You don’t get to talk back. You don’t get to fucking speak unless I say so.”
He shoves me again. My back slams against the wall and the wind goes out of me.
“I don’t need you to be healthy,” he says, dropping to something dangerous. “I just need you breathing.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard enough to split skin. Because if I don’t—I’ll scream.
His hand tightens again. Then he yanks. My shoulder jerks back with a sickening twist and I stumble as he drags me forward. I dig my heels into the floor, trying to brace against the wall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger.
“Walk,” he barks. “Or I’ll make you crawl.”
The floor blurs as he drags me out into the hall, still covered in the man's blood. My wrist is throbbing. My spine knocks into the edge of a side table hard enough to leave a bruise, but Frank doesn’t stop. He steps right over the corpse like it’s just an inconvenience, yanks the front door open, and drags me into the cold.
A black car is waiting at the curb and two men stand beside it in suits with their guns holstered. Their faces are blank, but theydon’t look at me. They don’t look at the blood. They don’t even glance at the body behind us. They just keep their eyes forward, stiff and silent. Obedient and dead in a different way.
Cowards.
Frank doesn’t slow down. Just wrenches the back door open and shoves.
“Get in.”
I hesitate.
His grip tightens on my wrist and he throws me into the car like I’m a rag doll. I hit the floor first, hip slamming hard, hair in my face, and my bloodied dress bunched around my waist.
I scramble to get up, choking on the need to scream. I pull my legs in, slide into the seat, and press my hand to the throbbing spot where his fingers were.
He gets in after me, suddenly calm again. The door slams shut, and the silence is worse than the yelling.
My wrist is already swelling and I can feel it throbbing with every heartbeat. I curl it into my lap and stare out the tinted window, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste copper again.
“You know what your problem is?” he mutters, causing me to jump.
I don’t answer.
“You think you’re untouchable,” he goes on. “You think because I didn’t break you the first time, I won’t.”
I shift, just enough to look at him.
“And you think hurting me will fix that?”
His smile is cold. Cruel. “No. But it’ll make me feel better.”
“Right. Because that’s what this is all about. Your feelings.”
He lunges, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slams my head sideways into the window with enough force to make the glass sing. Pain detonates behind my eyes, sharp and instant, as the taste of blood floods my mouth. My vision goes out in a violent flash, and I recoil hard, slamming into the door with a chokedbreath. One hand clutches the side of my skull while the other stays limp and useless in my lap.
I stay curled in the corner, trembling. My ribs tighten around my heart like a cage, and even through the fog of pain and fear, one thought digs in so deep it feels carved into my bones.If I survive this... I will kill him.
That’s the last thing I remember before the pain kicks in, and everything goes dark.
I waketo the sound of turbulence and the pressure shifting in my ears. A low ding cuts through the hum of engines, and cool air brushes against my skin.
I blink slowly.
