Syn Carnahan thought that the only true darkness around her was in her own head, but after witnessing the horrific murder of her friend, she is pulled into a world that she wished she didn't belong in. A world where every dirty little secret is rev...
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I couldn't close my eyes, as I sat staring wide eyed at the door and waited for it to open once again. My back pressed firm against the cold and rocky wall, which scraped my bare back raw.
My knees pressed against my chest, the touch of that man still radiating off my skin like ripples in water. His breath and the feel of his lips scraping up my neck sending a cold shiver up my spine at the mere thought.
My shaking hand concealing the hoop earring that id torn from my ear and forced straight, the metal coming to a point, and I held no hesitation to use it on whoever came through that door.
Because I knew, a part of me knew, that behind that door would be worse than anything that has or will come through it.
My side burned, ached, and every movement I made my body strained and begged for sleep, and every single part of me begged to lay flat and dive into unconsciousness.
My head pounded as if music was blaring along to it, and my mouth felt dry and my throat scratchy. I was sweating, coming off my high my teeth chattered.
But I stared.
I stared until the door slammed open against the wall, and I forced myself to stand. My feet wavering as three men found themselves walking to me.
"Stay back!" I screamed, trying to ignore the way their eyes preyed upon my naked skin. The way they stared at my bare flesh and smiled, their eyes moving from my breasts down to my pussy.
But I had no time to think about covering myself, no time to care about modesty.
They laughed, all of them. Their eyes lighting up like sparks. One, held a cigar between his teeth. He simply nodded, and the other two, as if sicked upon me moved forward.
Holding chains—chains.
"Or what?" One purred at my demand, as he came and stood before me. And I didn't miss the flash of his gun in his belt. "You'll say it again?" He spoke, reaching out and grabbing my cheeks as if wanting to memorize the words if I were to utter them in echo.
I grabbed his hand in response, before lunging forward and digging my straightener wire into his stomach.
The man hissed, as I drew blood, the moment flashing as I found myself falling to the ground with him.
I landed upon him, my hands moving to claw and my teeth moving to bite. I hit him, I dug my wire into his skin—moving it up to his throat—I raised it.
But a coarse hand grabbed my arm, the other gripping into my hair and yanking my from him.
I was thrown harsh against the floor, a body sitting heavily on me as the chain dragged around my arms pinning them to my body, my hands wrapped tight until they turned red.
