Page 47 of Stolen Faith

The man holding her slammed her against the wall, pinning her by her shoulders. The other knelt, unlocking the ankle cuffs. The instant she was free she tried to kick the one on his knees, but she was slow and weak. He caught her ankle, forcing her foot down.

Then he knelt on her feet, the little bones in each foot screaming. Juliette threw her weight to the side, but it did nothing, the man holding her shoulders easily able to keep her pinned in place.

The man at her feet reached up, grabbed the waistband of her leggings, and yanked them down.

Juliette allowed herself a whimper of fear, knowing the gag would hold back the sound. She looked away from the man at her feet and caught Devon’s gaze.

His eyes were wide with panic.

“There’s no need for this,” Devon said quickly.

He was going to break. He’d beg them not to hurt her. He’d promise or say anything he could to stop them from doing…whatever it was they were planning to do.

Juliette shook her head once. He had to keep it together. He had to maintain the illusion of aloof control. He needed to keep Cast Man talking, figure out what the hell was going on. How much he knew. What he knew.

The man at her feet curled his fingers around the hip band of her thong.

“Shirt first,” Cast Man said.

The man released her underwear and pulled a knife from his belt. He shifted his weight off her feet, which was a blessed relief. He grabbed her shirt, and Juliette couldn’t stop her frantic hands from trying to push him away, from beating at him until the man holding her shoulders grabbed the cuffs, forcing her to bend her arms, forearms pressed to her chest.

They laughed at her struggles, while Cast Man moved closer to Devon, looming over Juliette’s helpless husband.

She and Devon were trapped. And not just physically. If she were able to hurt one of these men or escape, they’d take it out on Devon.

The man on the floor slit the bottom hem of her shirt, then ripped it. The man holding her shoulders released her. Juliette held perfectly still as the one with the knife finished ripping her shirt, then cut through the arms so the fabric fell away from her body.

Juliette held Devon’s gaze, focusing on him as she started playing her favorite song in her head.

Her arms were raised, the chain between the cuffs hooked over something embedded in the wall. Her shoulders protested being pulled like that once again. She gave herself a moment to focus on the pain, then put it aside.

Those aren’t my shoulders.

When Devon had put her and Franco through modified SERE training, she’d thought some of the R2I techniques were ridiculous.

She’d also assumed she’d never have a reason to try the resistance to interrogation techniques.

Those aren’t my shoulders.

“You and your kind practice sodomy and hedonism.” Cast Man yanked down her bra and grabbed her breast, his fingers digging in.

Those aren’t my breasts. This isn’t my body.

The pain didn’t fade, nor did the fear, but saying it wasn’t happening to her, helped. Her favorite song kept playing in her mind, looping over and over.

A hiss escaped her when his cruel fingers abused her breasts, but she didn’t scream or fight as one of the men cut the bra off her. He nicked her side with the knife, and the sharp pain there helped; it distracted her from the humiliating pain of being touched and abused.

With her bra gone, she was naked except the black cotton thong she’d put on this morning. No…yesterday morning?

“I know she’s one of your wives, and that you have another wife too.” Cast Man’s hand roved over the front of her body, pinching and slapping.

“This woman is not my wife. I’m sorry you were misinformed.”

Juliette could hear the quaver in Devon’s voice, hoped they couldn’t tell how close he was to breaking. She opened her eyes and stared at him. She shook her head. Don’t say anything. An order from the Grand Master.

Devon held her gaze, then pointedly flicked his attention to where Cast Man was slapping her right breast.

Juliette shook her head again.

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