Paul’s hand moves upward, pulling the edge of my t-shirt along the way. His hand slides over my stomach—fingers spreading to touch as much of my skin as possible. It’s an intimate touch—there’s no denying that—and my skin crawls as if under attack by a million spiders.
“Maybe,” Paul croons softly, turning his head slightly so I can feel his breath on my ear, “I can fuck your secrets out of you.”
“No,” I whisper in denial. While rape had crossed my mind initially when I’d been kidnapped, I’d later dismissed it when I realized they were working for someone powerful. This was further validated by the fact Paul took immense pleasure in torturing me with pain.
But rape… having a man force himself on me… into me… is something I’m not sure I could bear.
Cruce’s words seem to ring clear and true within my ears, cutting off Paul and his evil intentions. You can’t give in, Barrett. They will kill you once you give up your knowledge. You hang tough. Stay strong. Believe we will come get you.
Except I can’t.
I saw Cruce get shot, then I never saw him after that. He was stuck in a watery grave, and no one was coming to get me.
Still, I maintain my silence.
“Let’s make this a little easier on me,” Paul growls. The next thing I know, I’m being lifted with his arm around my belly so he can free my bound wrists from the hook.
“No,” I scream. This time, I produce real sound from my shredded vocal chords. Apparently, I still have some fight in me. I start kicking and trying to wrench myself out of his arms, but he easily carries me over to the metal table as if I weighed no more than a feather or was putting up no more effort than a slug.
He slams me down across the top, trapping my arms beneath me. My breath falls short, having been forced from my lungs by the impact of the table, but I still manage to plant my bare feet onto the concrete and push back against him.
Then the cattle prod is slammed down onto the table, inches from my face, and his tone of voice is so cold and filled with evil that I go absolutely still. “I suggest you calm down, Dr. Alexander, or I’m going to fuck you with this instead, and trust me when I say… you won’t like it.”
Big, salty tears leak out of my eyes as absolute terror and helplessness quell all of my struggling. I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself I can bear this torture. That at least if he rapes me with his body rather than the cattle prod, it won’t be as painful.
Still humiliating, but it’s something I can get through.
In fact, if I just lay there and take it, it will hopefully be over with soon. And it’s my struggles that he likes. If I just keep still and quiet, he won’t get as much pleasure from it because he likes domination and control. He likes exerting effort to get there, too.
His hands feel cold and slimy as they work at the elastic band of my sweats, his breathing turns heavy as he pushes them down over my hips. Chilly air hits my ass, then the backs of my thighs, and I’m humiliated I’m exposed to not only Paul, but also to Munford as well.
“This might hurt a little,” Paul says with what I’d call joyful anticipation, and I hear the zipper on his jeans being lowered.
I swallow hard, grit my teeth, and resolve to survive this.
Except the door to the room flies open with a shrieking groan from the metal hinges. It’s done with such force it bangs against the wall. I shift, popping my eyes open, absolutely stunned to see Cruce standing there with a pistol trained right on Paul.
His eyes are hard, unrelenting, and his jaw is locked. For just a brief moment, I figure I must be dreaming.
Or wait… maybe I’m even dead already. Perhaps Paul killed me, and this is some weird type of Heaven that doesn’t have bright lights and fluffy white clouds. However, it does have Cruce so I’m okay with that.
And then Cruce’s gaze moves to me for a brief instant—to my exposed body bent over a table—and rage fills his expression.
His eyes snap back toward Paul. Without an ounce of hesitation, he fires his gun once.
Paul doesn’t make a sound, but I feel something warm splatter across my backside. By the time I twist the other way to see better, I’m able to catch Paul falling to the ground in my peripheral vision.
I turn back quickly to Cruce, who now has his gun pointed in Munford’s direction. He advances on him. I bolt away from the table, jerk my pants up, and pivot to face Cruce so I can watch what he’s doing.