Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
He’s not wrong about that. I can break this girl and turn her into a sex slave if I want. I can do all the sick, disgusting things my father used to do. I can beat her and break her physically and emotionally without a second thought.
But I don’t want to. I return to my laptop and look at her pictures again, frowning slightly to myself. I don’t want to make this girl bleed and beg for her life. I have no interest in that. I’m a hitman and a killer, but I’m not a rapist and a woman beater. Maybe I have a darkness inside of me that needs to be fed, but I do still have some humanity left in me.
And she’s so beautiful. There’s an innocence to her pictures that surprises me.
The more I look at her pictures, the more I want her. It's completely unexpected, but I want to see her, touch her, and taste her so badly.
This deal is happening whether I want it to or not. I’m sure my father would be more than happy to take the girl and to break her, even though he’s older now and not as strong as he once was. I’m sure he still gets off on that shit, no matter how gross and disgusting it may be. Which means I have to keep her away from him.
I have to take her. Maybe I’m doing it for the wrong reasons, but I need to make her mine. I’m in this already, and there’s no turning back.
I reach down and absently stroke Duke when he comes over and curls up at my side. I know I’m trapped, and there’s no turning back. I’m going to take Grace and make her mine, no matter what.
Maybe I’m doing it to protect her. Things would be so much worse if my father took her. Or maybe I’m doing it because I’m a selfish prick, and I’m drawn to her in a way that intrigues me.
Either way, I hate myself for it, but I’m going to follow orders. I’m going to take Grace, break her, and then I’ll kill her uncle.
I turn back to my laptop and begin to make my plans.
Chapter 6
Grace
* * *
My eyes slowly open, and I have to work hard not to groan at the pain pounding in the back of my head. The throbbing makes me wince. The floor I’m lying on is cold. Where am I? It’s only a second before the memory comes back to me.
I didn’t have a chance. My heart sinks as I realize how easy it was for them to take me, just as my father promised they would.
I was so full of hope when the guards stayed back and let me walk through the doors of the restaurant and out into the chill of the night.
I didn’t have a chance to run away. I don’t think I even made it ten minutes when three large shadows surrounded me and before I could even breathe, whack! The blow was delivered tight to the back of my head, and I collapsed into darkness.
My jaw clenches as anger rises in me. It was so fucking easy for them.
I deserve a goddamn chance! I wanted it. I want freedom so fucking badly, and I’d do anything to get it. But I’m too weak. Raised to be weak and helpless, that's all I fucking am. Hate consumes me, mostly for my father, but also for myself.
I finally open my eyes fully, and my heart starts to hammer. My body is like ice in that it's cold, numb, and still. I know better than to let my enemy know I’m awake and conscious.
There’s a cloth hood over my head, and my hot breath goes stagnant in front of my face. As I swallow, I feel slightly dizzy. I close my eyes and focus on steadying my heart. It’s only then that I take in my situation.
I can still run. If I got away from my father, I can get away from anyone. But he let you get away, a voice hisses in the back of my head. The pulsating pain comes back, but I ignore them both. He wants me to be a good little victim. To listen and do his bidding. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. I’ll survive, and I’ll escape. I won’t stop until I’m free. Free or dead.
I just need to be smart and wait for the perfect opportunity. Quietly I swallow, filled with equal amounts of fear and conviction. My breathing is steady but hot, filling the bag.
My shoulder is sore, and the metal cuffs holding my wrists together behind my back are cutting into the skin. It hurts so fucking bad. I realize that I’m slumped against the wall, and I feel every muscle screaming in agony.