Page 58 of Glitter Rose
“That hurts, you sadistic fuck!” I scream.
Gabriel sighs dramatically from his spectator position. “Paris, you’re making a scene.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I be more ladylike while being kidnapped by my psychopath brother?”
Mike hauls me upward like I weigh nothing, flipping me over his rock-hard shoulder. The world tilts and spins, blood rushing to my head.
“Put me down, you fucking gorilla!” I pound my bound fists against his back, accomplishing nothing except bruising my own hands.
“Stop squirming,” Mike’s massive palm clamps down on the backs of my thighs to steady me.
His fingers creep higher than necessary, thick digits sinking into the sensitive flesh where my ass meets my thighs. The unwelcome touch sends revulsion crawling up my spine.
“Move your hand before I bite your fucking ear off,” I hiss.
“Try it.” His hand slides even higher, thumb brushing the edge of my underwear.
I squirm. “Stop!”
“Mike.” Gabriel’s voice carries a warning. “Professional behavior only.”
“Just securing the package, sir.” His hand stays in place, firmly gripping my legs, but no longer actively violating me.
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you?—”
Gabriel cuts me off. “You already are, dear sister. The question is whether you arrive with dignity or… not.”
Knox.
I hope you’re okay.
FOURTEEN
PARIS
The needle pierces into my vein, a sharp pinch that I’ve almost grown used to after four months of this routine.
Almost.
Min-ji’s fingers are cool against my skin as she adjusts the needle. I stare at the ceiling tiles, counting them for the hundredth time while my blood fills another vial with the same deep red that will be studied, separated, and scrutinized like all the samples before it.
“You’re good at this,” I say. “No fishing expedition like Miller.”
She doesn’t smile. She never does. “Your veins are more visible now. Less fat tissue makes it easier.”
Right. Because my brother’s idea of hospitality includes rationed meals that leave me perpetually hungry. Nothing like being starved in the name of science.
“Are you at least finding anything interesting?” I ask. “Or am I a human pincushion for nothing?”
Her eyes flick to mine, then away. “I don’t analyze the results. I collect.”
Bullshit. Min-ji is Gabriel’s head researcher, not some labtech. But in four months, I’ve learned she won’t give me straight answers. Especially, not with Mike standing at the door like a sentinel carved from steroids and bad intentions.
“How many more?” I nod toward the rack of empty vials waiting to be filled with parts of me.
“Three.” She switches the full tube for an empty one.
The fluorescent lights hum above us, the sound drilling into my skull. White walls, white floors, white lab coat on Min-ji. Everything bleached of color and life.
