I try to bring my knee up to smash him between the legs, but I've done that before so he anticipates it and blocks me.
I hear Liam's chair rattling behind Paul. My heart pounds and I turn my face left and right, trying to get his disgusting, wormy little lips off me.
Paul's laughing as he pulls back, and I'm so fucking angry, I shove him hard in the shoulder. I can't look at Liam. I want to. I want to rip off his restraints and watch him tear Paul apart.
"All right," Pietro calls, finally stepping forward and moving closer to us. He acts calm, but I watch him quickly double check Liam's restraints.
From a distance, of course.
Liam seethes wordlessly in his chair. I wonder why he isn't threatening them.
Then again, Liam doesn't make threats. He delivers on them.
Flicking a glance at my exposed bra, Pietro meets my gaze and smiles.
I feel dirty, so I pull the jacket around me and cross my arms.
"I don't suppose either of you are ready to tell me where my supply is yet?" he inquires, glancing back at Liam.
Liam skewers him with a glance.
Pietro nods. "I figured. That's okay." Then he turns, nodding to Greg. Greg disappears through the door and I frown, wondering where he's going. Dreading where he's going.
"You two get to have a little sleepover. My treat," Pietro states, mockingly generous.
Greg wheels in a cot—a hard metal frame on wheels with a thin, white mattress on top.
Pietro's vacant gaze meets mine. "Strip down or Paul will help you."
"What?" I ask, hoping I somehow misunderstood him.
Behind Greg, Antonio approaches with ropes in his hands.
"We'll have to restrain you as well, obviously," Pietro explains. "Can't have you trying to loose Liam. I'm not sure if you realize, but we've really pissed him off," he says, offering a hollow grimace. "You'll spend the night, and when we come back, Liam here will tell me where he put the shit he stole from me."
Paul comes forward, grabbing my jacket. I resist, but then I don't want him to rip it.
"Why do I have to strip down?" I ask. "You're not capable of restraining me with my clothes on?"
"Paul's going to keep guard," Pietro explains, barely able to hold back a smirk. "Keep you company."
I want to be wrong, but I know what he's threatening.
I know what Paul will do.
In front of Liam.
Bile actually rises up my throat. I take a breath, willing the impulse away, but I'm really afraid I'm going to vomit.
I swallow convulsively and only seem to further trigger my gag reflex. I stifle the retching my body so desperately wants to do, but I can still feel it in my throat.
"This wasn't our deal," I tell him, like that means something.
"Yeah. But I make the rules, sweetheart. Not you."
"Please don't do this," I say, pride be damned. I've survived plenty of abuse from Paul, but the thought of his hands on me, his mouth on me... worse things I can't even stand to think about, especially knowing Liam will be tied to a chair, helpless to stop Paul from hurting me.
Forced to watch. To listen.