“I said to stop it!” he yells. His strong arms wrap tighter around my body, and he easily lifts me up and against the wall. My heart beats frantically as I search for a way to escape. Adrenaline rushes through my blood. “Don’t make me gag you.” I hear his threat in my ear as tears streak down my face. I try to calm down, but all my body can do is stay tense. My muscles scream for me to move them. They want me to fight. Everything in me wants to fight. Against a man like Vince, it’s hopeless.
But I can at least beg.
I stay still and try to calm my breath. My chest rises and falls with sporadic hiccups from my sobs. I need to calm the fuck down. I close my eyes and just try to breathe. He won’t hurt me. I need to believe that. I need to believe there’s a way out of this other than death.
As if reading my mind, he says in a calm voice, “It’s going to be alright.” His deep, baritone voice soothes me. It shouldn’t, but it does. I shouldn’t believe him. And yet, I do.
“I’m gonna take my hand away, Elle. And you’re not going to scream.” I attempt to nod, but his grip on me is so tight that I can’t move. His hand slowly pulls back and the cool air makes it painfully obvious that I have spit all over my chin. I want to move my arms, but I’m pinned against the wall.
I turn my head slowly and see his stern expression, daring me to scream. I swallow thickly and I can’t help the need to do just that. I have to try. I won’t be a good little victim for him. I have to try to get the fuck out of here. My body lunges away from him without my conscious consent. The movement makes my head spin.
His large hand tightens around my throat. I struggle to breathe as my feet lift slightly off the ground. His blunt fingernails dig into the back of my neck as he shoves me against the wall. His force stuns me. But even more so, I'm shocked by the dark look in his eyes. It's a deadly look that tells me I shouldn't fuck with him. I'll regret it if I do.
I don’t understand. I’m so confused. I remember glimpses of passion between us. What the fuck happened?
My hands want to reach for my throat. It's a natural instinct as my breathing comes up short. But they’re pinned at my side by Vince's hip and his other hand. My eyes water, and I look back into his gaze to plead with him. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not now.
He leans into me, and the scruff on his cheek rubs against my jaw. His lips are practically touching my ear. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart.” His breathing is unnervingly even. He’s calm. Too calm. “I don't want to, but I will. I won't hesitate if you keep this shit up.”
I try to stay still. With everything in me, I try to obey him, but the need to fight against his hold wins out as my vision fades and my throat seems to close.
Just as I think he's really going to end my life and choke me to death, he lets go. My feet stumble against the hard ground and I nearly roll my ankle, heaving air into my lungs. My hands feel around my throat as I land hard on my knees. I let my body sag to the ground and just breathe.
It's only then that I realize I'm crying hysterically. My face is hot and wet from the tears.
I see him bend down, his worn, dark wash jeans just an inch from me and I fall back on my butt and kick away, scrambling backward as fast as I can until I hit the wall. I restrain the scream crawling up my throat and wait as still as I can.
He's still in a squatted position, his hands resting on his knees as he looks back at me as though contemplating what to do with me. The need to fight is suppressed for now. Attempting to run would be useless. All I have left is to try and beg for mercy.
“Please let me go,” I plead with him. My words are slurred. My head spins slightly as I feel the full weight of my body. I’m not okay.
“Not until I know everything you saw.” His words confuse me. I don’t know what he’s talking about.
I shake my head violently. "I didn't see anything."
A cocky smirk graces his lips. "Sorry sweetheart, but lying isn't going to get you anywhere with me. You remembered my name."
“What did you give me?” The question comes out slower than I intend as I move my arms sluggishly and realize my motor function is off. My body heats with anxiety.
“It’s a heavy sleeping pill.” My head shakes. Liar.
“A roofie?” I ask accusingly. I remember someone saying it earlier. He drugged me. Betrayal washes through my body once again.
“It’s similar to Rohypnol.” He doesn’t even have the decency to look away as he admits that they drugged me.
“Why?” I ask, in a small voice that I hope expresses my hurt.
“You saw something after we were in here, and I didn’t have much choice.” His jaw clenches and he faces the wall for a moment before his gaze focuses back on me. “It was the best option at the time.”