Page 86 of Wilt

Outside comes a sudden roar of an engine and squealing breaks. Doors slam and shouts fill the air. Gravel crunches, the sound winding in through that open door and for a moment, I start toward the door of the dining room.

I stop as I realize I don’t know the main voice. It’s shouting and barking orders to others.

Not. Nikolai.

Fear bursts into panic and I whirl around, trying to find a place to hide. There’s the bar in here so I go there, squeezing down behind it, just as footsteps reach the room.

The door hits wood and feet stomp in. Way too many. Nikolai doesn’t come with a team. Just him.

A chair flies with a snarl and I squeeze my eyes shut, even as I feel someone come close, breathing down my neck. “There you are.”

I shake my head and try to stay as small as I can, no matter how futile.

“Whore.”

The word rips into me and I scream, pressing down in my hiding spot as I look up and see him. A man. I try to make myself smaller, even though this man has already found me.

I was bad, and he found me.I don’t know where the thought springs from, but it’s there. Bright. Loud. Full of panic. Futile.

I stare up at him, and he lifts his hand like he’s going to strike me but instead, he spits. A gob of saliva hits my face and I wipe it away with shaking fingers.

He laughs.

He’s in a suit. A tie. He’s dressed up in the middle of the day and he looks beyond angry. I know that expression. It haunts me, follows me in my nightmares.

There’s a fancy box in his hands and he throws it on the bar.

“Get the fuck up, little bitch whore.”

I’m unable to move. All I’m wearing is Nikolai’s shirt. What the fuck is going on? Nikolai’s place is a fortress. I know he has staff. He’s smart, he’d never…

“Go away,” I say. “Nikolai won’t be happy. I’m his and you need to go.”

“You stupid, vile little whore,” the man sneers as he opens a box, pulling out a sheet.

I know that sheet. It was on Nikolai’s bed. My heart is thumping with fear and my head spins. What the hell is going on? I grip the bottom of the cream shirt I’ve buttoned up, Nikolai’s shirt, and I don’t know what to do.

Confusion rocks me as I stare at the sheet, what he’s showing me.

There’s a stain. Light. Red

Is that…? Is that from us? A little blood from taking my virginity? This man looks familiar. He scares the living daylights out of me.

It’s not even his features. No, it’s the way he stands, the build, the sneer. It’s the ugliness of hate and brutality, coupled with a twisted something some might call affection. The shadow that falls on me is familiar, too.

I want to cry.

I’m five and shaking. I’m five and know pain will rain down. My mommy isn’t here to save me.

The thought hits me fast, and I can’t breathe. It’s a punch to the stomach and I’m winded as I stare up at him again.

“The fucker isn’t coming, Thorne. Not now, not ever. He’s done. You’re a fucking waste, just like your mother.”

I stare.

“I’m not surprised you’d fuck our enemy. You’re a fucking stupid cunt, like the bitch who birthed you. Of course you fucked him. Probably fucked them all. Am I right? Whores are whores, but you’re also a fucking Finnegan, so I expect you to make the most of the situation. Fucking him is that—a situation. One that got you to me.”

I sputter, the realization of who he is slamming into me like a freight train. “No—”

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