He climbs on top of me, straddling my waist, pulling my arms over my head, and clamping them tight within one of his own—the other going to my mouth to make sure I don’t cry out. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. My throat is raw from when he choked me earlier. The pain from my broken arm produces a wave of nausea to roll through me, causing me to vomit all over myself.
He doesn’t even notice, his all-consuming rage to the point where I know he’s not going to stop until he’s gotten everything he can from me. “I’ve had to sit back and wait for this moment. Wait for you to finally fuck up and lead me right to you. I knew it would happen—you never were very fucking bright. I’ll give you credit. You got away once, and had you not come crawling back to me, I might not have found you. I don’t fucking like to wait, Syn, and it’s about time you learned who is your goddamn boss! You think you’re fucking smart, running off again? I won’t let you get away this time. Not when the club needs your cunt to make the money keep coming in.”
When his hand comes back to my throat, I see it in his eyes—he doesn’t care if I live past this moment as long as he gets whatever sick shit he wants.
“Just like a sitting duck,” he spits in my face. “The second your credit card was used, it was like a big fucking flag just taking me right to your door. Where’s your big, bad savior now? Doesn’t look like he’s going to help you this time, you senseless fucking bitch!”
The pressure in my chest demanding oxygen is becoming too much. My eyes are starting to close despite my willing them to keep focused. And worse, my limbs have stopped listening to my command to fight, just dropping lifelessly to my side.
“This is going to be so much fun, you stupid bitch.” He brings his hand back, and with one hard punch to my temple, I’m out cold.
I’m not sure how long I’m out. When I come to, I fight with myself to get past the fog. My head is pounding and my body is sore. Without opening my eyes, I take stock of my body. I hurt, but nothing that makes me too concerned. The fact that I can feel that my clothing has been torn from my body, however, is enough for me to become instantly terrified. Between all my pains and aches, it’s hard to tell if he took me, but I’m almost positive that he hasn’t raped me . . . yet.
I hear a phone ring, a tone I know is not mine, and I breathe a sigh a relief when Shawn stops what he is doing, climbs off me, and answers the phone.
“What?” he barks farther away from where I’m laying.
After a brief silence, I hear him and my heart stops.
“Yeah, I fucking got her, Ram, and don’t you fucking worry. When I’m done with her, she won’t pull this shit again.”
Oh. My. God.
My own father orchestrated this. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never exactly acted like he gave a damn, but knowing that he sent this monster after me is devastating. I know it sounds stupid, to still hope that the father who willingly objectifies his own daughter might care just a little—but like the dreamer I am, I couldn’t help but pray that, one day, he would. I know now how foolish that was.
“Yeah, you’re damn right she begged. I’ll set her straight. Don’t you fucking worry. Don’t even sweat it, Ram. Come tomorrow morning—or night—I’ll be headed back there and then you can let the other boys take their turn with her. Seems about right after all the trouble her little boy toy caused.”
When I hear his voice get farther away, I know this is my moment. Peeking my eyes open and seeing his shadow falling from the open doorway of the bathroom gives me the time I need. I move as quickly as my body will allow and get to the hotel phone. After snatching it off the cradle, I press ’0’ and wait. When I hear the operator answer, I whisper my room number, begging for them to send help quickly. Then I shove the phone beside the bed and the nightstand and make my way to where I left my cell charging on the desk, fumbling for a second as I listen to Shawn laugh at whatever my father is saying.
Laughing about destroying his own flesh and blood.
I manage to get my phone turned on and the phone app open to dial Maddox before I hear Shawn coming behind me. I quickly toss the phone to the side, praying that I pressed the button to connect the call before I had to abandon it.
“Little bitch is awake now, Ram. It’s time for me to have some fucking fun before I bring her home.” He laughs again.
I curl into a ball when he gives me a hard kick, landing his boot right into my shin. I cry out in pain, my voice still sounding foreign to my ears. He gives me another kick, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s hurt me. The pain is overwhelming this time and I get sick again. I’m not even sure what wetness on my body is from vomit, blood, or my tears.