Zayn agreed to this.
And that’s unforgivable.
“So what’s it to be, Penelope? We could do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way, you’re getting fucked right here in front of all these people.”
“Why does it even matter? Why do you care so much about what people think of you? Fuck a man, Jeb. Grow some goddamn balls,” I hiss, trying to buy some time, not caring that my words will piss him off. The longer he’s standing here arguing with me, the better. Maybe I can keep him occupied long enough for this debauchery to be over. I might pay for it later, but I’m going to take my chances. Jeb steps closer, gripping my upper arm as he yanks me towards him.
“Don’t try and psychoanalyse me, bitch. It doesn’t matter why I do what I do. It only matters that you fucking obey!” he sneers.
Twisting on his feet, he pulls me towards Zayn and my worst fucking nightmare. I know I’m strong. I’ve survived years of abuse, but this. How can I survive this? I loved Zayn. I still love him despite everything, but that love is quickly draining away like water through sand.
As I walk through the dense heat of the warehouse, I remember that time when Zayn and I had made out on Xeno’s bed. I remember how I’d adored his kisses, relished his touch. I remember how I revelled in his words of affection and love. My heart had been so fucking full. Back then, Xeno had watched and it had turned me on knowing he was there. Back then, I’d been a willing participant.
Back then, they had both loved me.
Those boys would never, ever have contemplated rape, let alone agree to it. Surely they’re not so different now, right? Surely, what we had meant something? Then again, a lot can change in three years, especially when you’re part of the Skins. Perhaps they’re beyond repair, so damaged by this life they’ve led that there’s no coming back from it. My steps falter as we near their table, my body trembling.
“Don’t fight this, Penelope. You need to put on a convincing show; your baby sister’s life depends on it,” Jeb reminds me.
I clamp my mouth shut on the sob that threatens to break free. I will do anything for Lena. Anything. I survived what happened before. I’ll survive this. My feet feel leaden with every step, but I don’t fight. I keep walking. On the far side of the warehouse, I see their red skull masks. They look like the devil’s henchmen, waiting for my return.
Waiting to break me.
The closer we get, the more I feel their gaze penetrate my skin like tiny nicks from a knife. Every slice has my heart stuttering for breath and my soul crying out for some kind of intervention. Around us, the fucking has become frenzied, dark, feral. One gangster has a woman gripped by the throat, her mouth slack in desire and the skin around her lips dusted a shade of blue. If he hadn’t just released her throat, so that she could scream out her orgasm, I have no doubt death would’ve taken her.
Directly to our left, the same female gangster who was getting eaten out earlier is now straddling a burly man, and is riding him hard. She catches my eye and must see something because mid fuck she reaches out to grab my wrist. I yelp at the tightness of her grip as she yanks me down to her mouth, the scent of her desire is pungent and far too intimate. Jeb stills, looking between us, but for some reason he doesn’t pull me away. He gives her a moment to say what she wants to say.
“I see the fear in your eyes, girl. This isn’t the place for that. Do what you need to survive.” Then she lets me go, leans over the man beneath her and grips his jaw before fucking his mouth with her tongue and his dick with her pussy.
Jeb whistles low, his fingers digging into my upper arm as we move away from them. “You’ve caught the attention of The Belladonnas. Interesting.”
“The Belladonnas?” I ask, again trying to distract him.
“Yeah, those bitches run Manchester. No one moves drugs in or out of that city without their say so, but their time will come,” he explains, the arrogant arsehole.
He’s so fucking sure of himself. Of his power and his reach.
But he’s still flesh and blood, muscle, and bone. Jeb has a weakness, and I’m the one who’s aware of it. That gives me power. I didn’t understand that when I was a kid. I do now. Gritting my jaw, I straighten my spine and hold my head high as we walk back to the table, a plan forming.
“Here we go, Sir,” Jeb says, smiling with glee as he pushes me towards Zayn.
I stumble a little, keeping my gaze fixed on Zayn, the boy I found friendship with first. His onyx eyes flash with anger and something else, something close to pity. It makes a fire burn inside me.
Well, fuck him.
I don’t want his pity. I want him to stand up against Jeb. I need him to do the right thing. I have to hope he’s still capable of it.
“Where have you been?” Zayn asks, flicking his gaze between us both. There are questions in his eyes that remind me of the night I broke his heart. Questions he should’ve voiced back then instead of holding inside. Not one of the Breakers questioned my actions.
They let me go.
They. Let. Me. Go.
“We were just having a little… chat,” Jeb shrugs, sitting at the table. He leans over and grabs the bottle of whisky and pours himself a shot of the golden liquid, smacking his lips after swallowing it down. “We’re back. Now the fun can really start.”
Not one of the Breakers speak up. All four of them remain tight-lipped. Out of everyone here I thought at least Dax would do something. He was the one who always protected me, who came to my rescue first. My Dark Angel.
Not this time.
This time I have to save myself.
With a calmness that I didn’t know I possessed, I turn to look at Jeb, locking eyes with the man that is using me like a whore who can be loaned out at his whim.
“You wanted a show. I’m going to give you one you’ll never forget,” I say, then remove my mask and place it on the table. My trembling fingers linger over the shiny plastic as I hold back the tears pricking my eyes. There are too many memories bound up in that mask. That night, three years ago, I might have removed this mask, just like I have now, but I hid behind another of my own making to save my sister, to save these four men sitting before me now. Tonight, I’m going to lay myself bare to save myself and buy some time. Right now I need the Breakers to see into the very heart of me. They can hide behind these glowing red skull masks like fucking cowards, but I sure as fuck won’t hide. Let them see my anger. Let them see my pain, my fear.
Let them see me.
I look at Dax first, my eyes boring into his. He holds my stare, his mouth pressed into a hard line. On the table, his leather-clad fingers curl into a fist. He’s barely holding onto that anger he’s so famous for. Teardrop Dax, the man who can make grown men cry, but who’s never once shed a tear of his own. I can’t tell if his anger is aimed at me or Jeb, or something else altogether. Either way, he’s on edge. Good. Maybe it’s going to take something like this to push him to act.
Next I turn to face York. He studies me closely, and this time when he looks at me, I don’t hide a thing. I lay myself bare. If he can still read me like he could so well when we were kids, he’ll know exactly how I’m feeling now. In fact, I’m counting on it.
Beside him, Xeno meets my gaze with a hard stare of his own. He was always the most difficult to reach and now it’s no different. I swallow hard, my heart aching for everything we had and all that we’ve lost.