Scout turns to face our brother and smirks. “Don’t worry. Everything I do to her, she’ll beg for.”
Chapter Three
Landry
The fear Scout evokes within me begins to transform. One second, I’m terrified, and the next, I want to kill him. His melted-chocolate eyes pin me, a knowing gleam in them.
He sees the transformation.
It excites him.
This just pisses me off more. I put every ounce of hatred I can into my glare, chasing away the lingering tendrils of fear with fiery anger.
With my father, I had to dance around the monster, playing a delicate game of pretend because I needed to distract him to protect Della.
This monster—all three of them—are different than Dad. Though I’m outnumbered, I don’t feel outmatched. They have weaknesses and I’ll uncover them.
Scout reaches his bed and his expression goes blank. Unease prickles through me pressing deep into my flesh, tearing through muscle, and scraping bone. He places me down on his bed with surprising gentleness that has my blood running cold, apprehension like freezing rain.
He turns and limps over to the door, closes it, and turns the lock. A tremor of fear surfaces and I’m disappointed at how easily my bravado runs off now that I’m alone with him. I attempt to harness the anger, but with him flicking the light off and prowling my way, it’s impossible.
I’m in fight-or-flight mode.
“Sparrow said not to lock it,” I choke out, gesturing for the door. “What if Della needs me?”
He pauses for a moment and then surprisingly turns the lock. I wish it made me breathe easier but it doesn’t.
The light from the bathroom allows me to see his approaching form, but much of his face is shadowed. It’s not until he puts one knee on the edge of his bed and it creaks with his weight that I attempt to flee.
Too late.
His hand snares my ankle, squeezing until I can’t slip away, and he drags me back to the center of the bed. A whimper crawls its way out of my throat as he pins my body with his solid, much stronger one.
“You can’t get away, so stop trying.” His gravelly words are warm as they’re whispered on my face but chill me to the bone. “You’re ours now.”
Flight failed.
Time to fight.
Desperately digging deep inside me, I hunt for my earlier rage and use the burst of fiery heat to lash out at him. My fingernails score his cheek, enough to draw blood, but then his massive hand has my wrist pinned to the bed. And the other one.
Trapped beneath a monster.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
I spit at him, satisfied when he closes his eyes against the sudden assault. Blood dots the scrape marks and saliva splatters his face.
I hope he gets infected and dies.
His eyes reopen and I’m trapped now, beneath the weight of his suffocating stare. Beneath his hard gaze, there’s a darkness I don’t want to get close to, much less explore. And though I want to escape it, I’m being sucked in.
Into the void.
Reeled into a black hole.
I gasp for air, certain I’m going to asphyxiate from the toxicity of his evilness. Closing my eyes, I attempt to retreat. It’s worked before when faced with nightmares come to life.
“What did he do to you?”
His velvety-smooth voice nearly feels like a caress against my face. I’m startled by the question, and even more so by the genuine curiosity pulsating from his words.
“Who?” I croak out.
He rubs his nose along mine. “Your daddy.”
Being trapped in Scout’s unyielding hold, I feel exposed. Cut open and laid bare. The rawness of this moment stinks of rotten despair and memories that infect my entire being. There are things I don’t want to remember, much less share with someone else. Especially not him. My newest monster.
“Fuck off.”
His lips brush over mine, and for a split second, I consider tilting my head to encourage a kiss so he won’t probe around in the depths of my carefully concealed misery.
“This is much more than a pretty pussy for me,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a sensual grind of his hips that has my body flaring to life. “Much more.”
I attempt to wriggle free of his grasp, but he rocks his hips and shifts until he’s successfully between my thighs. I’m bare beneath this T-shirt, so I can feel every steel inch of his aroused cock.
“Tell me, prickly princess,” he croons, slowly rotating his hips, “what did the bad dad do to make you not only run away, but steal his kid, too. Because he hit you?”
This is too much.
It’s one thing being Scout’s captive, but being forced to tell the horrors of my past feels like the ultimate torture.
“No,” I spit out. “You don’t get to know anything about me.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? More than just smacking around his little girl.” His eyes narrow. “You’d rather fuck than tell me, hmm?”