Breaking Steele (Sarah Steele Legal Thriller)

Chapter 39

WILLIAMS SUCKED ON A cigar and the end glowed amber. It was a clear night, but a slight breeze made the smoke waft away. The girl was pretty, in a punk sort of way. She put up a fight, but she was so small that her kicks did nothing to stop him. He was, after all, a driven man.

Walking back inside, he turned the corner and his breath stopped. She stood defiantly staring at him, holding a piece of wood. Why she didn’t try to run was a mystery—maybe she liked it rough.

“I see I need to work on my bondage skills.” Williams pulled on his cigar and let a small grin cross his lips. “Now just put the wood down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m gonna hurt something, you sick perv.” Angela stood, knees bent, ready to strike. She looked like a batter about to hit a home run.

Williams laughed and took a step forward, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You got me. Please don’t hurt me.” This was fun—maybe his subconscious wanted her to get free so he could mess with her. Was that why he hadn’t tied her up more securely?

“I’ve lived with pigs like you all my life. You’re just one more man who needs to be taught that you do not have the right to abuse women.” Her eyes flashed, and Williams took a small step forward as if sneaking up on a scared rabbit. She took one step back, and that was all he needed to let him know that her front was just a cover for her fear.

He lowered his hands and pulled on his cigar one more time. “My father used to say that if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

Williams lunged forward and Angela swung, hitting him across the ribs. He didn’t stop and bull tackled her to the ground, not feeling the pain. She grunted under his weight, and in a matter of seconds he had her hands behind her back and hauled her to her feet.

Angela screamed for help, but he wasn’t worried. This was a basement, and her cries would do no good here.

“Yes, that’s it—scream. I like the wild ones.” Grabbing her throat, he squeezed and pushed her against a wooden support post. He slipped the knife from his hip sheath and pressed it to her neck. She froze.

“That’s right—be a good little girl and hold still.” This time he used duct tape and put one strip over her mouth. She was crying and this made him want to kill her. Crying was for the weak, and the weak did not deserve to breathe.

“You see, my dear, you are cursed to be submissive to man; you are weaker in every way and need to be ruled. Your only worth is to bear children to keep the human race going and for man’s personal pleasure. But you fight against it, demand freedom, only to miss your true calling.”

Taking the knife, he felt for her fifth rib. “You are a slave, and you will always be a slave no matter how much power you think you have. Women in power are only there because we let them be there. But it all comes around in the end.” He let the knife slide in slow. Angela screamed into the duct tape. Once the knife was all the way in, he yanked it out again. Blood spurted from the wound and stained her shirt.

“There. You will bleed out for a few hours, and you will suffer as you were meant to suffer.” Williams wiped the blade on her pants and took another draw from his cigar. He hadn’t even dropped it in the struggle, more proof that he was the master and she the servant.

Her skin was pale now, the trauma too much for her to handle. She was a beautiful thing, a prize to be proud of, and the makings of a great gift for his prey.

Sarah Steele.