Lucian (Filthy Marcellos #1)(12)

Scream, and it would only be a hell of a lot worse.

What she could do, however, was control herself. Jordyn swallowed back her fear, sat down on the couch once more, and turned on her television to a music channel. At least the noise would muffle some of the yelling and whatever else. No need to scare the rest of the people on her floor, not that it would help.



       
         
       
        

The kind of neighborhood she lived in was not one that would involve police.

She silently wished she had popped a Xanax with her orange juice that morning. It might have made this situation easier.

Not five minutes later, loud bangs pounded on her door. Jordyn ignored it. Will called her name once, following it with something degrading as he usually did, and then proceeded to demand she open the door or he'd do it for her.

Go ahead, she thought, suddenly calmer than before.

Maybe in the short time period of hearing the motorcycles and the men coming in on her apartment, Jordyn realized there were only so many things they could really do to her. Hurt her, sure. Scar her, definitely. Take things that weren't theirs to have, yeah. The thing was, those realities didn't scare her, not really. Jordyn had long since learned that was a fact of life. In one way or another, what you had and held dear was eventually taken away.

The only thing Will couldn't take from Jordyn was her mind, her spirt, and her strength.

Those were all hers.

He couldn't ruin them if she didn't let him.

Jordyn didn't flinch when her apartment door was kicked open. She simply dropped the remote to the table and sighed. The landlord, as shoddy as he was, wouldn't be impressed by that.

"What'd I tell you, bitch?" Will asked, his words melting together in a slur.

Jordyn stood, watching the four men file into her apartment and half-assed close her door. Or as good as it could get, considering they'd broken part of the frame. She didn't bother to consider the other guys, or who they were. Likely a bunch of Will's lackeys, and nobody too important. Instead, she focused entirely on Will.

The man was disgusting, as he'd always been. A good fifty pounds overweight, in need of a serious shave, and a lack of personal hygiene that showed on every inch of his skin. Also, Jordyn was positive the man was drunk, high, or a mixture of both.

Not a good sign when it wasn't even noon.

"Morning, Will," Jordyn said quietly, offering him a sweet smile she knew would only piss him off.

"Where've you been, huh?" Will demanded loudly, spit spewing from his mouth. "Ron says you haven't been working, you ain't been dancing, and I got a bouncer bitchin' about some bastard shoving a gun in his face for trying to take what you should be giving, anyway."

The other three men circled Jordyn, but she didn't move away. With their arms crossed and dark eyes watching her, she knew it would be pointless to try.

"Is that what you're doing now when you ain't working, babe?" Will waved at her with one hand, his other coming down to unbuckle the large leather belt with metal studs he wore. That one action was the only thing Jordyn might have showed an ounce of fear for. "Hanging out with Italian scum, letting the mafia boys fuck you when you won't even let a club man touch you?" 

Jordyn licked her lips, trying to find words that might help, but coming up with nothing. "I don't know those men."

"You're lying," Will growled. "Heard my boys talking about how much the one seemed to like you, and how much attention he was paying to you. Is that what you want, to be some little fucking mafia princess? An Italian's whore?"

The sound of Will's belt sliding out of the denim loops was daunting.

Suddenly, every one of Jordyn's muscles seemed to react at once. She would take a beating from this man, let him degrade her and call her whatever names he wanted. But he would not touch her-certainly not rape her.

Jordyn turned to run, though she wasn't sure where. There was a man in every direction, and Will was only three feet away from her.

It didn't make a difference. She didn't get far.

The crack of the leather snapping against her back turned Jordyn's body to ice. The thin, spaghetti strap style top she wore did nothing to cushion the hit of the belt. Pain ricocheted from the middle of her back, up to her shoulders, and across her lower jaw. It seemed like every metal stud in the belt embedded into her skin. The worst pain came from the side of her face and Jordyn was sure it broke the flesh.

She hit the floor with her knees, holding up one arm to shield what she could of her head and face from a second hit.

The belt cracked down across her shoulder, arm and side the second time. The third, which came just as strong and swift as the first two, snapped along her bare thighs, just below where her cotton sleep shorts ended.

The agony was unbearable. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. There wasn't time between swats to move and the belt slapped over her body in the same places repeatedly, breaking what skin it could touch, and bruising and swelling what was covered by clothes.

Once more, Jordyn felt the vomit rise, but there wasn't any holding it back now. Tears fell as bile spilled.

She didn't beg, though. Not for him to stop, or to ease up. Not to leave her alone, or get out of her apartment.

She didn't even ask why he was doing it.

Jordyn had been waiting for this day for years.

All the while, Will continued his mostly unintelligible rant, shouting and muttering things Jordyn couldn't understand. With one final hit from the belt landing on already tender and abused spots, she heard the item hit the floor.

Was that the end of it? Was that all he planned to do?

She didn't trust herself to give even a sigh of relief.

"Turn on the stove," she heard Will demand.

What did that mean? Jordyn choked on her words, tasting the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Even with the pain, she rolled to her back. "No, don't."

"Turn it on, hold her down!"

Someone kicked the coffee table out of the way. Arms barricaded a fighting Jordyn down. And fight she did. Kicking, bucking, and tossing out fists. Anything she thought might help, but it didn't.

Faintly, Jordyn could smell what she thought was the propane of her stove and heated metal. Panic seared through her insides.

"Don't! Don't you touch me!" she screamed.

"Cut it off," Will ordered.

What?

The shirt Jordyn wore was ripped from her body. The ice-like sensation returned to her body with a vengeance, freezing her in place. Will's frame was clouding her vision then, a grizzly sneer taking over his features. It only made him look more evil than everybody already knew he was.

Just to frighten her more, he held up a knife at least two inches in width. All at once, Jordyn now understood completely why he wanted her stove turned on and the smell from earlier. The metal blade glowed from having been sat in the propane flame, but it looked like it was starting to cool off.



       
         
       
        

That wouldn't help, she knew. The smell of propane was still strong. Will would just keep heating the knife up over and over until he was done with his job.

"This tattoo does nothing for you, Jordyn. It means nothing to me. It doesn't protect you, or keep you safe anymore. So you know what I'm going to do now?"

Oh, God. No.

Jordyn's bottom lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them flow again. "Go to hell, Will."

He smiled. "Shoulda just done this to your mother like I wanted to, you know. Held the bitch down and made her what she was supposed to be. She wouldn't give it and I shoulda took it. Bitch gave it to everybody else, though. Just like you, a good for nothing whore."

With that, the hot metal of the blade laid flat over Jordyn's hip bone, directly on top of the tattoo of Gabe's name.

If the pain from the beating was bad, this was indescribable. For the briefest moment, there was nothing, and then it scorched like acid was being poured on her flesh, with skin burning right off the goddamn bone. Out of instinct, her body reacted to the pain, trying to buck away from the knife and hands holding her down. Nothing helped. The scream Jordyn released was muffled by a folded up belt being shoved into her mouth.

It tasted disgusting like Will was. Dirty and sweaty. Old and used.

Jordyn wasn't sure how much time passed before the knife was lifted, literally taking with it a strip of her burnt flesh, and without a break, a new one was passed. Again, she vomited, choking on the bile.

"Be thankful I don't take the rest of them off, too, babe."

The process was repeated over and over. With every burn, Gabe was gone.

Maybe it was her high threshold for pain, but Jordyn managed not to pass out.

Finally, the knives were dropped, too.

Will stood, nodding at the men who then let Jordyn go. She didn't move, only stayed on the floor gasping for air with the taste of vomit in her mouth. There was absolutely nothing she could do.

"Club Property, Jordyn. That's what you are now. I expect you to act like it," Will stated uncaringly. The cruel glint in his gaze burned worse than the belt and the burn. "Clean yourself up. You've got one week and then I expect you back at the club on a fucking pole like you should be. Make sure to cover those bruises, too."