I need to keep her quiet.
In his weakened state, there’s no telling what he would do.
Softly, I sing to Mercy. I sing her songs that used to be her mother’s favorites and ones I made up about her mother. It doesn’t take long before she’s quiet, staring up at me with awe. I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead, thankful she’s alive. Only time will tell if this thing Beck did will work.
“Where’s Mommy?” Mercy says, finally calm.
“She’ll be here soon.” The lie on my tongue is bitter. Truth is, I don’t know if we’ll ever see her again. I left her with her worst nightmare. And I have to wait until dark to get her back. I just hope it won’t be too late.
Castilla
Allowing Griffin to take me to his apartment was a bad idea. But I was too depleted of energy to run away. All I need to do is make it through twelve hours and then Laurent will be back for me. He’ll take me to Beck’s and I can see my little girl, who I hope to God is okay.
“I could make you some breakfast,” Griffin says. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” I lie. Right now I feel like puking. “Please.”
He walks into the kitchen while I quickly glance around his space. I have my stakes, but those aren’t too effective on a human. I could run, but Griffin is fit and could easily outrun me. I need to be smart. Stalling is my best option until I can call for help or sneak away.
“What’s wrong with Mercy?” he asks from the kitchen.
Anger flashes hot through me. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s perfect.”
He emerges from the kitchen, his features twisted into an annoyed scowl. “You know what I mean, Casti. Why is she dying?”
“A blood disorder,” I snap. “The transfusions aren’t working anymore.”
“What a shame,” he says, approaching me. “We can make another one, babe.”
I blink at him in horror. “What?”
“A child. We made one before and we can make another one. Maybe this one will do better being raised by both parents.” He shrugs.
“Fuck. You.” I shove him hard. “You asshole!”
His eyes narrow and his lip curls up. “Maybe next time, you can put up less of a fight. All that trauma during conception probably damaged our baby.”
Rage explodes inside of me. I smack his face hard.
“How dare you insinuate—”
The words are knocked out of my mouth when he smacks me back. Harder. With more force. Before I can recover, he grabs me, yanking me to him. I scream and kick out, but he’s too strong. All the classes with Jude fly out the window. I trained heavily for this moment, but terror consumes me like a tidal wave. He carries me to his bedroom. I freeze as a despondent wail escapes me.
No.
I can’t do this again.
Please, no.
He flings me onto the bed. I scream, launching myself away from him, but he’s too quick. I’m dragged back toward him, my ass prone to him. He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the bed as his hand curls around my throat.
Tears rush down my cheeks as I squirm. His grip tightens, cutting off my air supply. Sickness creeps through me at the realization his now-hard dick is rubbing against me through our clothes.
Horrors of the past come flashing back.
I cry hard, and unable to suck in air, I begin to black out. His free hand gropes me in all the places that aren’t his. The despair of my situation wins. I pass out in the monster’s arms.
In and out.
Out and in.
I’m dizzied and confused as I blink my eyes open. It all comes rushing back. As the sunset blazes in through the window, I know I’ve spent all day in the monster’s clutches. Each time I come to, I rage at him until he chokes me out again. My throat is sore and swollen. It’s better than the alternative. Just thinking about him inside of me again has bile creeping up my throat.
Never again.
I’d rather die.
What about Mercy?
My heart aches. Laurent and Beck will take care of her. Or Jude. Maybe even Loey if she’s not dead. There are people who care about her and would love her. They wouldn’t let her forget about me.
I pull against my bindings, hating the way the rope burns into my wrists with each movement. He tied me up the first time I lost consciousness. Ever since, I’ve been trying to escape when I come to.
Pots clatter in the kitchen, which means he’s probably cooking. I use the time to work at my bindings. My hands are purple from what I can see because he tied the rope so tight.
I wish Laurent were here to help.
Each time I woke today, I realized with despair that Laurent didn’t dreamwalk. I feel like he would if he could, which means he can’t. I don’t know what to make of it. Did they make it back home before the sun rose? Did Beck fail in healing Mercy? I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t reach out to me. Rather than contemplate horrible possibilities that’ll only reduce me to tears, I try and devise a plan.