Savage Savior (Savage People 3)

His eyes harden, and I’m afraid my attempt to dissuade him is about to backfire.

“Have you showered since?”

I shake my head. No. I don’t want to shower. I don’t want to get undressed, and I don’t want to wash Carter off me. It’s a stupid thought, considering my circumstances. However, taking a shower will postpone whatever Murray has in store for me. Every second counts.

“I’ll take care of that,” he surprises me by saying. I nod and follow his stride to the bathroom. He twists his body in my direction and places a reassuring hand over my shoulder.

“No need to come with me. Stay here.”

I nod again, panic swirling in my gut. This is not right, and I know that. Murray is not a good guy. I don’t know what his next move will be, but I don’t want to be here when it happens. As if something just occurred to him, he tilts his head sideways, a psychotic smirk playing on his face suddenly.

“Your phone, Quinn.” He reaches out to me with an open palm. “I never asked you for it. Have you been a bad girl and used it while I was in the bathroom?”

“No.” The lie sounds convincing from my mouth. And why wouldn’t he believe me? Ever since he started taking me when I was sixteen, I’ve always been weak and obedient. Mostly because I was too scared of him and my dad. When I tried to rebel against the fucked-up world they created for me, he beat me almost to death. That’s why I willingly walked into his car without him even threatening me with a weapon. I know exactly what he’s capable of. Running didn’t work. For a while it did, sure. But I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. I need to figure out a different way out this time. A permanent solution. One of us needs to die for this to end.

I place my phone in his palm, and he curls his fingers, locking it securely in his fist.

“Good girl. I’ll check while I make you a bath.”

I wait in the living room, sitting down on the sofa, staring at the floor. I trace the marks Carter left on my neck with my fingers. I say his name over and over again in my head, like a prayer.

I want him.

Hell, I need him. I’ve been through so much, and I’m just tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of running. Tired of faking it.

Long minutes pass before Murray appears at the bathroom door and heads to the kitchen without a word. I hear him rummaging around in the fridge, or maybe the freezer, before I hear his footsteps heading back toward me. I snap my gaze back to my feet. It sounds like he’s struggling to carry something heavy, the way he grunts and walks at a quick pace. He’s up to something, I know this, but I can’t make myself look at him. The water is running, and I hear rustling of some sort. My heart rate kicks up even more. I can’t go in there. Something is telling me I won’t survive this.

“Your bath is ready, Quinn. Come on in.”

My legs are quivering as I stand up. You know that feeling after a run or working out, when your thighs shake so badly you can barely walk? That’s what I’m feeling right now. Walking slowly to what feels like death row.

I don’t step inside. I peek over his shoulder at the tub.

It’s full of water…and ice. Lots of ice.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is bad, but he’s put me through worse. I can work with this.

“You’re right, Quinn. I can’t take you when you’re tainted. Which is why I’m about to scrub you clean. Lose the clothes. I’ll get something to help you scrub away your filth.” Every word is a kick to my stomach. I want to scream. I want to fight him. But I also know what will happen if I try and fail. My punishment would be so brutal, I’d be begging for death.

“Murray.” My voice is weak and brittle, but he is already gone. I am left staring at the full bathtub, my new enemy. He took my phone, so I can’t call the police like I should’ve done in the first place. As far as I know, Murray doesn’t have a landline. Never had before. I don’t make a move to get undressed. I stare at the water, in shock.

Murray reappears behind me, nudging my shoulder, not softly, but not too aggressively either.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll get to know each other again.”

I chance a look at him, and he is holding a scouring pad. The kind made of steel wool. The man is a monster. A real monster. Carter was wrong about himself.

Carter is not a monster for doing what he does to his enemies. Murray’s victims are innocent, and he gets off on it.

“Undress. Now. Every second you waste is another second I will scrub the inside of your pussy with this. And I promise not to be gentle.” His voice is dry as he wiggles the scouring pad tauntingly.

I take off my coat, placing it carefully over the grimy brown sink. My shirt follows. I’m not wearing a bra, because I thought this was going to be a short trip to the corner store. I hesitate. If I lose my leggings and panties, it’s done. I throw another look over my shoulder to gauge his thoughts. He is sitting on top of the toilet, his legs crossed, cupping his knees with a smile that’s almost sweet.

“Tick-tock, Quinn. You’re wasting time.” He pulls out a utility knife from his belt loop. “Do you need help removing your clothes?”

I close my eyes.

Drop the leggings.