Page 8 of Unorthodox
I flip the two locks, hand trembling. And just as I go to open the door, desire warm and unfurling in my body, telling me that all I need to do is get outside, get outside,get outside,the door opens.
From the outside.
There’s an electronic beeping as it does, and when I stumble backward, my eyes darting from the door to Ben and the guard with the rifle, I realize I never would’ve made it.
I never would’ve fucking made it.
Max Bennett steps through the doorway with a single glance my way before he reaches for a small, flat square panel on the wall. It beeps as his thumb comes over it. An alarm system.
I could’ve guessed at that, but it’s what I see beyond Max, past the grey fountain out front. Adjacent to the high, iron fence are two guards, bright light from lamp posts showing they have the same rifles as the one outside my door.
I never would’ve made it.
My chest deflates, hopelessness like a physical weight dragging me down as I take another step back.
And another.
Max closes the door, locks it. He’s dressed in black jogging pants, a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, gun on his hip, and I see sweat along his brow.
He was running.
Fucking jogging while I was going to be taken down to the basement for more torture.
I dart my gaze to Ben, a murderous expression in his blue eyes as he stares at me. The guard looks nervous, his own eyes on Max, his mouth open as if he might say something.
But no one speaks.
No one but Max. He smiles at me, one dimple flashing in his pale face as he slips his hands into his pockets and says, “Were you going somewhere?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Force myself not to think about Ben. About what he’s going to do to me now. How yesterday, when he forced me to my hands and knees, when he whipped me and hit me and laughed when I cried, how all of that will be like child’s play today.
But that means I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m already going to be punished for this.
Might as well make it fucking worth it.
I grip the razor tighter in my hand, take one more step back. “I want to go home.” My voice doesn’t shake even though it’s all I can do not to crumple into a ball. I risk a glance towards Ben, still find him staring at me like he wants to kill me. “I don’t know what my father did to you, but I want to go home.” I gesture to Ben with the razor but don’t look at him again. “I don’t want to...” I feel pressure building behind my eyes and I hate myself for it. I hate that my father never prepared me for this. I hate that going home will be little better than staying here, and I hate that I’m too weak to kill every man staring at me right now like I’m just a fucking toy.
“Go ahead,” Max prompts me. “Please, you went to all this trouble.” He nods toward me, his blue-grey eyes gleaming. “Say what you’d like to say.”
“Don’t let him take me.” I don’t say Ben’s name or point to him, but Max knows. I know he knows.
“Take you? He’s not taking you anywhere.”
I bite my lip, my knees trembling, the adrenaline fading me, leaving every bruise and bump and ache lighting up in pain in its wake. “Don’t let him hurt me.” I don’t know why I’m begging Max. I don’t know why I think he’s any better. I know he knows what Ben’s done.
But I can’t help but ask him again. “Please just...” I close my eyes, take a deep breath. “Please just let me stay in my room.” I meet Max’s gaze again and find nothing staring back. Nothing but a detached sort of coldness.
Just like my father, he is completely unaffected by my pleas.
Even still, I hold my breath as he glances at the floor, as if he’s actually considering my request.
But then he looks to Ben. And all he says is, “Do not ever let this happen again, or you’ll pay for it.”
And Ben takes that as permission as he comes toward me, menace in his eyes.
I take another step back, holding up the razor. “No!” I scream at Ben as Max watches. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch—”
Ben slams his hand over my mouth, grabs my hair with his other hand, and drags me away from the door, toward the stairs that lead to the basement. I fight him, kicking and screaming beneath his hand as I jerk in his arms. But Ben is huge, broader than Max and far bigger than me.
