Page 195 of Born in Depravity

“You fucking dared run away from me? You’re just like your fucking mother. Do you know how many times she tried to run away? She got better when she had you. Then she went behind my back and fucked with the Bianchi bastard. Killing her was fucking mercy. I should have dragged it out.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear anything more. I didn’t want to hear about my mother’s life before it was cut short. Beforehecut it short. She had a miserable life with a mean man.

And I was just so angry for her.

So, so fucking angry.

I struggled in his hold, but he only tightened his grip further.

“Look at me, you stupid bitch.”

I kept my eyes shut.

He shook me before I felt the slap on my face. I fell face first on the mattress. I stayed there, wishing I was somewhere else.

Even after all I had been through, I was still so weak. I couldn’t fight him off even if I wanted to.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me back up. A slight metallic taste hit my tongue. I didn’t need to see to know I was bleeding from my lip.

“In just a few moments, the man you betrayed when you ran away will be here to take his anger out on you. You fucked up, girl. You could have been the wife to one of the most powerful men in this world, and what do you do? You whore yourself out to the Russian bastards? Did they defile you?”

I didn’t know what came over me then, but I looked him straight in the eyes and I smiled.

His eyes flashed and he slapped me once more. My vision blurred. I wouldn’t be surprised if I passed out soon.

It would be better than to be conscious of whatever hell awaited me when Henry Ramos showed up. It didn’t take a genius to guess who was visiting.

I kept my eyes on him and laughed. I was really losing it now.

He stood up. “Laugh all you want. You won’t be shortly.”

Sure enough, the door opened once more, and this time, two men came in.

One of them was Henry and the other was the man who’d taken me from the car.

Henry wasn’t in his suit. And he looked worse for wear, with heavy bags under his eyes. He was also in a stained short-sleeved gray shirt and black slacks.

Henry looked at me with hatred in his eyes. It took me a while to figure out why he looked so odd.

He was missing a hand.

He cupped the nub, wrapped in white gauze. It hadn’t been that long ago when it happened, but it felt like it. So much had happened, and I could only stare at it—thinking that I didn’t feel bad for him.

Damien had really made good on his threat and cut off his hand.

My only regret was not asking Damien to kill him when I had the chance.

“Don’t worry,” Henry said, pulling off his tie. I used my legs and pushed myself back on the mattress until I hit the wall. I swallowed, feeling lightheaded, especially when he unbuckled his pants.

“The Russian bastard cut off my hand for you? A fucking little whore? Let’s see what it is about your fucking pussy that’s got all three of them tied up in knots.”

The man who took me from the car laughed.

“What do you say, Luis. Should we give them a little show?” Henry asked the man.

Why did the name Luis sound so familiar? I looked at the man. His scars looked more prominent in this light.

He pulled out his phone and aimed at me.

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