Outcasts (Badlands 3)

Noah was yelling now, and someone else was yelling right back. Whatever they were saying was of no interest to me.

I somehow managed to grab hold of the door frame in a pathetic attempt to get away from Vance.

“Let go!” I struggled to break free by kicking him as best I could.

“You little bitch,” a recovered Hawk spat down at me, slamming his booted heel right where four of my fingers were resting, making me let go of the doorframe.

Pain seemed to be radiating from everywhere. Something wet was running down the side of my face, and I could feel throbbing in my left hand. I felt like a rose being trampled on the ground. Vance carelessly dragged me the rest of the way into the bedroom.

I was lifted up by my middle and dropped face-first back onto the bed, kept there by Vance pressing my face into the mattress.

I tried my best, tried with my whole heart and every ounce of fight I had within me to stop them from destroying who I was.

In the end, that’s exactly what they did. Each of them participated. Vance went first, forcing his cock inside me just like his son had less than twenty minutes ago.

He was much rougher. The grip he had on my hair seemed to tighten with his every thrust, setting my scalp aflame.

I wish I could say I made it hard for him to enjoy himself, but truthfully, I wasn’t any kind of match for him—or his family.

I thought it couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong. Vance lifted me by the throat like I was nothin but a dirty dishrag. He lined himself up with my virgin ass as Rex took the front. They entered me after some sick countdown, both brutally unforgiving. The skin around the rim of my ass shredded, and blood leaked between my cheeks.

I felt as if a pole of flaming iron was searing me in two. I screamed and begged for them to stop, suffocating on my sobs.

My body wanted to turn in on itself but, even there, it hurt too badly.

I couldn’t tell how long they passed me around like a chip bowl at a party, each of them taking however much they wanted.

In the end, it was Noah who gave me the water that led me to pass out.

He probably thought he was giving me some form of peace, but his help came after a round too many.

Everything changed for me that night. The cracks in my soul became too wide. There was nothing left to hold onto.

Chapter Four

I tossed the last body into the pit, and signaled for it to be lit up.

One of the acolytes shuffled forward and dumped kerosene up and down the deep, lengthy ditch. Another followed, casually dropping matches, keeping his black hooded robe clear of the flames that instantly erupted.

The man I’d just tossed in blinked up at me, his eyes wide. He tried to lift his head off the broken legs he’d partially landed on, but didn’t have the strength.

He couldn’t do anything but let the fire slowly eat him alive, thanks to Cobra crushing his vocal cords.

Leaving the acolytes to it, I made my way back inside the house, stomping my boots on the welcome mat my sister had demanded be put down. The last thing I wanted to hear was Cali’s mouth because I tracked dirt across her immaculate hardwood.

The open floor plan gave me a clear view of Romero standing in the kitchen. I glanced at the contents of the blender he was emptying into a glass as I made my way to the sink. “Milkshake?” I guessed, turning the faucet on with my elbow.

“Always fucking milkshakes. Oh, let me correct myself—always vanilla fucking milkshakes.”

I smirked to myself in amusement. Ever since Bryson, Cali’s personal guard, left to help guard Luca’s skin farm, Romero was on full-time Cali duty.

“She’s like a fucking bear. All she does is sleep, eat, and chafe my dick—in that order.

“And I’m not complaining about the first or last one, but she’s been talking to me like she’s lost her motherfucking mind.”

I shook my head. “Could have gone my whole life without hearing that bit about your dick. It’s just hormones.”

“Well, fuck hormones,” he retorted before wordlessly passing me the dirty blender on his way to the fridge.