Page 115 of Brutal Obsession

When I finally force my eyelids open again, we’ve moved closer to the bed.

“What did you do?”

He makes a face. “Nothing you don’t deserve.”

He sets me down on the edge of the bed and waits. The room swims around me, and I brace my hands on my knees. I try to rise again, but my legs aren’t working. It’s like someone detached my head, and I’m floating up into the ceiling. He swings my legs up, setting my head down on my pillow, and pulls out his phone. I blink again and lose precious seconds.

An alarm goes off in my mind.

His phone flashes, theclickof the camera loud.

“Hey!” I didn’t say that. And neither did Jack.

He whirls toward the voice.

I push myself up, but my muscles can’t hold. I catch a glimpse of Greyson storming into my bedroom.

He grabs the phone from Jack and glares down at the screen. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jack sneers. “You’re not the only one who can use her—”

Greyson punches him.

I close my eyes and try to roll on my side. I teeter on the edge of my bed. My legs hit the floor first, and my body follows. I crash hard, my shoulder catching my nightstand. Searing pain bursts down my arm, numbing it. The room keeps going in and out of focus, and my hearing, too. Like I’m floating through a wave. Caught in a riptide. Nausea hits me, and my stomach knots. I can only hear the grunts that I know come from Greyson. They’re familiar to me in a way Jack never was.

What was Jack going to do to me?

“Come on,” Greyson says, suddenly close. He grips me under my arms and lifts me.

I weakly curl my fingers into his shirt. I force my eyes open and barely see Jack’s legs extending past the end of my bed.

Greyson ignores him and swings me up into his arms.

He carries me into the hallway. I can practically feel his mind working. He goes into the hallway bathroom and sets me down in front of the toilet.

“Sorry, Vi,” he mutters.

Then he jams his fingers down my throat.

I gag and try to fight him off, but it’s fruitless. His two fingers press down on my tongue, and my stomach contracts. I fall toward the toilet as I vomit. I’m vaguely aware of his hand on my back, collecting my hair, and the other one supporting my torso. I sag to the side and close my eyes.

Plastic touches my lips, and then cool water. I open and swallow, and then it’s gone.

“One more time,” he murmurs.

“No,” I whimper.

“He drugged you.” Greyson pinches my chin, directing my face back around to him. Doesn’t matter that my eyelids are so heavy, I can’t keep them open. “The bastard came in here and gave you a fucking date rape drug.”

He doesn’t need to stick his hand down my throat again—that thought is enough to get me to gag. I cough and choke after, the taste burning my throat. He gives me more water, then scoops me into his arms.

He carries me back to my bed and sets me down on it.

“What—”

“You’re safe. Go to sleep. It’s okay.”

He pulls my jeans off and drags the blankets over my legs. I curl on my side, every part of me aching again. I can’t seem to catch a break.

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