Page 167 of Scavenger's Oath
I can’t.
Even if they never come for me. I don’t want anyone else.
Screaming louder, I punch harder, claw at anything I can reach. I just need to move, to fight.
“Fucking bitch!” he roars, pinning my arms again, leaning closer to scream in my face. “I’m doing this for you, you ungrateful fucking whore!”
Same lies he told me when he got me locked in the barn last year. Same delusion.
Seeing an opportunity, I sink my teeth right into the meat of his shoulder.
His scream tears the air open as hot blood fills my mouth.So I bite harder, until he’s howling, until he slams his fist into the side of my head and rips himself away, leaving a smear of blood down my chin and his arm.
“Fuck!” He roars, hitting me again, this time, hard enough to send me sprawling to the edge of the bed.
“Fuckin’ slut! How am I gonna hide this?” Derek’s pitch rises with panic as he inspects the oozing wound. “What are the boys gonna think? This makes me look like a bitch.”
A cold wave of dread washes over me. There’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man.
While he’s distracted, I try to crawl away—anywhere.
But he grabs my leg, drags me back down the mattress until the chain connected to my collar is taut, and climbs over me.
His fresh wound drips blood onto me as he leans over me again. “I wanted to enjoy this,” he spits. “Wanted to take my time. Make you feel good. But you wanna be feral? I’ll show you fucking feral.”
Shoving my thighs apart, his hands go under the hem of the shirt again.
I scream. Fight. My nails claw at his face, his neck. Anywhere. I buck, thrash, kick. My knee catches his hip, and he swears, backhanding me again.
“Hold still, you stupid fucking bitch!”
He fists my hair, slams my head back against the mattress, chains rattling. “You think you’re something precious ‘cause three masked freaks wanted to fuck you? You’re just meat, Ivy. Theyusedyou.”
His hand yanks up the shirt, fingers digging into my thighs painfully. I keep screaming, louder now—rage and fear in equal measure. I scratch his face so hard my nails come back red.
“They’re not coming for you!” he bellows, spitting blood in my face. “You think they actually cared about you? You’redamaged goods. They’d take one look at you now, and spit on you. You were nothing to them!”
Derek’s words gore me like a spear, shredding every hope I had left.
I twist my torso, try to slam my elbow into his throat. But he grabs both my arms and pins them above my head then grinds his hips against me.
Sobbing through my teeth, I feel his hard bulge, revulsion crawling up my throat.
“Stop fucking moving!” he roars.
His chest heaves as his rage crests past control.
He’s not even trying to touch me the way he wanted anymore—he’s trying to crush me. Punish me for escaping. For choosing someone else.
Derek rips my shirt at the collar, shredding my last treasured possession to expose my body. I scream again, throat raw and gurgling blood. My fists keep flying, even as he blocks them, even as he slams his forearm into my collarbone to keep me still.
“You want pain?” he snarls. “Fine.”
His fist slams into my ribs and I choke.
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, gasping wheeze. I curl, trying to shield my belly. The most precious thing they gave me.
His blows are wild, rage-fuelled and unrestrained, mostly landing on my limbs.
