Death Wish (Deception Duet 2)

The room is empty.

There’s a bed, stripped down to the mattress, but that’s it. No dresser or vanity. No pictures on the walls or curtains. A quick glance into my closet tells me it’s empty too. I’m confused and dizzied by this new revelation.

The doorknob twists and my father steps in. His regal authority is cold and numbs me. I can’t help but shiver and run my palms over my arms, hugging my arms to my chest to try and keep warm.

Gone is the relieved expression on his face that was all for show at the guys’ apartment.

Gone is the quiet, hidden rage in the car.

His monster is loose and thrumming with the need to punish.

There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I’ve done this to myself. I brought all of this on myself.

What choice did I have?

Trust in the policemen who are deep in Dad’s pockets? Fight him and get my boyfriends shot or hauled off to prison?

This, unfortunately, was the only way.

I can endure it long enough until we get our next opportunity for escape. He can’t keep us locked away forever. Not now. Not when the whole city now knows we exist and matter. They’ll want to see us at events and parties. The public will be curious.

“You disgust me.”

His words are like a whip, lashing at my skin, leaving it raw and exposed. I recoil, taking a step backward.

“It was bad enough that you attacked me,” he growls, raising his hand to touch the back of his head. “But then you took your sister and ran.”

I take another step back, needing as much space between us as possible.

“Imagine my surprise to find out you’d shacked up with those Mannford boys.” He grinds his teeth so hard I can hear the sound. “Winston Constantine confided in me just what horrible people they were. How dare you expose my daughter to such filth.”

“Dad,” I croak out, needing to diffuse this bomb that’s about to explode. “Please, I—”

“What perverted shit did you let them do to you?” he demands. “Did you let them fuck you? All at once? You’re a sick child. So fucking sick.”

A sob chokes my throat and tears blur my vision. I blink furiously, needing to keep him in my line of sight. Somehow, he’s advanced in that fateful second, and now looms over me.

“You let them mark you,” he snarls, dragging his finger along the column of my neck. “Like you were their whore. Where else did they mark you?”

I’m shaking my head, desperately trying to find the words, but none come out. Before I can process, my clothes are being forcefully ripped from my body. I cry and scream, begging for Sandra or anyone to help me, but no one comes. He shoves me to the bedroom floor and nudges my hip with his dress shoe.

All my bruises are on display—a colorful map of the unusual and erotic week I had with my guys. It’s all here blinking like a neon sign for Dad to see. I don’t have to tell him what I did with them because he can see it with his own two eyes.

The situation is all too much. I can feel the separation begin when I disassociate myself from these horrible encounters. My mind drifts to warm, safer places while I leave my body to fend for itself. I’m vaguely aware of him crouching beside me, poking bruises and snapping pictures.

I’m not in my room.

I’m in Scout’s bed, melting under his intense glare. I’m in Sparrow’s arms, feeling safe and protected. I’m captured in Sully’s kiss, my heart fluttering every time he calls me honey.

“That’s enough evidence,” Dad says. “Get up.”

I blink away the haze of where I’d rather be and drag myself to the present. I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering. I don’t know what comes next, but this doesn’t feel like other times with my father. This doesn’t feel like when he’d blur the lines of our relationship. This feels like he’s the warden and I’m a lowly prisoner who somehow managed to breach the prison walls.

He wants to make me hurt.

So I won’t forget this moment.

So I won’t ever try to escape again.

He grabs my bicep, hauling me to my feet when I make no moves to get up. I can feel his fingers biting into my flesh, leaving their own possessive mark. My entire naked body is on display and I hate being seen this way.

“On the bed,” he barks, spittle showering over my face.

I shake my head violently. “N-no.”

“You don’t get to tell me no, child.”

My screams echo in the empty room, but no one comes to save me. He pushes my body over the bed, leaving my ass exposed.

Think of them. Think of anything.

The sound of his belt buckle jangling keeps me rooted in the present.