Page 1 of Destroy (Deadly Hearts 2)

ChapterOne

Ruby

Ican’t help but let out a groan of pain.

Cold steel is pressed to my throat. My own fucking switch blade. That angers me more than this whole situation combined. How dare he use my own weapon against me. Fucking asshole.

“Quiet,” he hisses at me.

“Fuck you,” I hiss back, and pay for my comeback.

His face comes really close to mine, and with a twisted smile, he drags the blade across my throat. Not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to make me bleed. He knows his stuff. That will leave a scar…if I get out of here alive. I’m starting to think that isn’t going to happen. My arms and legs feel like lead weights.

I close my eyes and stifle the whimper of defeat that threatens to come up. I’ve lived through worse.

I’ve lived through worse.

“Finished,” D.I. Smith says, proudly.

I force my eyes open when he slaps the outside of my thigh.

Staggered is the word that comes to mind. I’m absolutely staggered that he is showing me his art of me trussed up, mostly naked and stabbed in the gut.

My keen eyes notice he is quite talented, but c’mon. He doesn’t honestly expect me to praise him, does he?

Apparently, Boomer thinks I should because he buries the tip of the blade into the side of my neck.

“Very nice,” I mutter.

“Such a beautiful subject,” D.I. Smith says, and almost lovingly places the sketch pad on the stool before he turns back to me.

I do not like the look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Boomer whispers in my ear. “You won’t even feel it.”

“Feel what?” I murmur in dread and then feel a jab in my upper arm again. I moan when my head goes woozy, my vision blurry and my hearing goes foggy. My leaden limbs get even heavier, until I stop feeling everything. I don’t even feel the stab wound in my stomach anymore. It's a welcome relief, but only for a split second because Boomer’s words come back to me.

What is D.I. Smith going to do to me that Boomer wants to numb me?

Boomer moves away from me, and I feel my legs moving. I think they’ve untied my ankles, but I can’t tell. I can’t lift my head to look.

I let out a surprised squeak when I’m dragged half-way down the table so that my ass is on the end. I only know this because I can see D.I. Smith looking over me now, from in between my open legs.

“No,” I mumble, shaking my head as the fear that hits me is familiar and real. “No!”

I want to struggle, but I can’t. I am completely immobile. “Boomer, please,” I beg him, knowing it will be futile.

I can only watch as Smith pulls his cock out of his pants. There is silence in the room apart from my desperate sobbing to Boomer as he then produces a small foil packet. He rips it open and then unrolls a condom onto his erect cock.

“No,” I slur, my lips not moving as they should. I don’t even think my voice box is working properly now. “No, please, no.”

I can’t go through this again. I can’t. I can’t come back from this. I hope that Boomer does kill me now because this is it. The end.

I squeeze my eyes shut, screaming in my head for this to stop. I am motionless, voiceless.

A nobody.

A nothing, except a breathing sex doll.

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