Sadie's Game (Ashby Crime Family)

He rubbed his rotten come into my face, smearing all over with a dark smile I would never forget.

No, I wouldn’t just skin this motherfucker alive. Maybe I’d have Evan or Hulu fuck his face and come all over it.

“Still smiling? I can change that.” Mueller grabbed me by the throat and lifted me off my feet with an angry smile before he tossed me on the bed. He shoved two fingers between my legs and growled.

“Only a whore would be wet after the throat pounding you just took. A good whore is hard to find, Sadie. You sure you don’t want to join my stable?”

I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I focused on not reacting when he shoved his cock in me over and over, holding my legs so wide open my hips ached.

I watched that piece of shit fuck me as hard as he could, his only goal to humiliate and hurt me. He wasn’t even enjoying the fuck.

Prick.

His cock thickened and hardened, signaling his orgasm was close. He laid his body flush with mine and wrapped his arms around my head, so I was smothered against his chest while he pushed into me in slow, rough strokes that would have me hurting in the morning. While he finished up, I thought of two things.

Getting rid of Bonnie.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, knowing my face would be the last fucking thing he ever saw.

When he was done with me, I cleaned up as best as I could, and stumbled out of the hotel and into the next block, ignoring Oliver’s looks and questions about my well-being. I fell into the back seat of the car, surprised I didn’t vomit all over the soft leather.

Fuck it if my driver was judging me. I needed a shower and a fresh bottle of whiskey.

Chapter Four

Sadie

Even now, months later, I couldn’t get that night out of my mind. I’d gotten my revenge. I was still here, and that motherfucker wasn’t, but the darkness that fell over me at returning to that part of my life wouldn’t be satisfied until it had another piece of my soul.

I stared, unseeing, at the almost empty bottle of Velvet Fire. I was stuck somewhere between the past and the present, unable to pick which place suited me best. Fucking Mueller took me back to a time and place I never wanted to revisit, a time when I was weak and helpless when I didn’t know my own power. I knew my power now, and though the ends—Bonnie—justified the means, I would never forget.

The door smacked open, and I didn’t even flinch, not even when the angry voice started to speak.

“I guess getting drunk was more important than looking at wedding dresses with me.” Kat spat the words out, each one angrier than the last. “I’ll just take care of it myself, but if you weren’t interested, you didn’t have to pretend you were.”

Shopping for wedding dresses was something I’d dreamed of doing with my mother and then later, my own daughter. Even though that was a dream that belonged to Old Sadie, New Sadie still wanted to indulge in tradition. But this life made it damn near impossible. “I’m sorry, Kat. I have a lot on my mind.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “And I don’t? I would have had this done already if you didn’t insist on us doing it together, Ma.”

She was right, but she also didn’t know fuck all about, well, fuck all.

“You’re my little girl,” I slurred and took another sip, slower and longer than the last one. “I want to be the mother you deserve, Katherine, I do, but sometimes the past…fuck.”

I took another drink and let the fire weave its way into my veins, fortifying me to give up some of my past.

“You always say the past is the past and has no place in the present.”

I smacked my fist on the desk and glared at Kat’s angry blue eyes.

“The past, when it matters, is always there, Kat, but you don’t know anything about that, do you?”

“Not for lack of trying,” she shot back. “The only one you talk to is Jasper.”

“The past,” I spat at her and poured the rest of the bottle into my tumbler. “The past is sitting back and letting grown men molest your sons because their father was so deep in debt that you had no other choice. The past turns a blind eye because you chose a man who believed that was something a child could recover from. The past is staring at the face you used to love with hate and anger because he wouldn’t stop gambling, which meant he subjected my boys to that torture over and over again. For fucking years, he did it, and I’ve had to carry that weight, that burden on my shoulders for thirty years.”