Roman’s hand whips toward me so fast that I don’t see the gun until it’s pressed right against my temple, the metal cold against my clammy skin. “No,” Levi rushes out, throwing his hand up and knocking the gun away from my head. “Not until we have answers.”
Roman’s heated gaze doesn’t leave mine and in a flash, he brings the gun back and shoots.
BANG!
My whole body flinches, pain rocking through me from the movement as the bullet sails straight past my head, lodging deep into the wall behind me. “THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I scream, shoving my hands against his chest to force him back, but my body is too weak to move him even an inch. “I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T FUCKING DO IT. The hooded bitch did. I refused to run and she said she would make me. She shot him. Not me. I tried to stop her. I screamed for her not to do it. He saw her. Marcus saw her, I know he did.”
“WELL MARCUS IS FUCKING DEAD,” Roman roars, his voice ringing in my ears louder than the gunshot.
Tears track down my face and I look back at Levi, the desperation pulsing through me like never before. “I … I didn’t … Why can’t you just believe me? I wouldn’t hurt Marcus like that. I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.”
Levi watches me for a silent minute as the tears fall and splash against my chest. “Sorry, little one,” he says, his eyes darkening like haunted shadows during the coldest night, not a hint of regret swarming in those obsidian pits of torture. “Not good enough.”
And just like that, Levi nods toward Roman who turns and walks out of the small room, taking the tweezers with him as he goes. I look up at Levi as the door slams shut behind Roman, leaving us alone in dead silence. I know that this is going to be hell.
He steps in closer and my heart races with fear, terrified of what he has in store for me. He reaches down and pulls the strap back over my body, tightening it with a hard tug until the breath is forced out of my lungs. “Hold still, little one,” he tells me, skimming his gaze over my body. “This is only going to hurt a little.”
4
Shivers take over my body as I hear the haunting noises of Levi’s drums coming from deep within the castle. It’s been over twenty-four hours since he walked out of here, leaving me a bloody mess. He was cold and calculated, using everything he knew about me, using my own fears and nightmares against me.
The way he tied me down, the way he took that knife and trailed it over my skin. I’ve never screamed like that. Not when they first kidnapped me, not when they chased me through the maze, not even when faced with death.
Levi is brutal. He’s relentless and lacks any kind of decent human traits. He didn’t hurt me the same way Lucas Miller had, he didn’t leave me gasping for breath or bleeding out on the table, yet somehow his fucked-up mind games were so much worse than anything I’ve ever endured.
Levi DeAngelis is a psycho. He gets off on my pain, loves the way I flinch when he comes near me, yet every time he met my eyes, there was something there, something deep inside him telling him he should stop. But the years of relentless torture from his father, drilling into his sons that giving up is weak, that was the voice that kept him going until he saw it right through to the end.
To stop is to show weakness and Levi DeAngelis is anything but weak.
So why the fuck am I lying here in a pool of my own blood, desperately wishing that I could forgive him? Deep down, he’s a broken soul who needs a ray of sunshine to break through the darkness. His drums offer him a release from his binds, but the moment he puts those sticks back down, his binds tighten and he’s stuck in that relentless cycle.
Why do I do this to myself? Until I start seeing them as the bad guys, I’ll never be free of this.
Roman though, he can go and fuck a donkey for all I care. He’s callous and cruel. When Levi was left to torture me, I could see a shimmer of hesitation in his eyes, but not Roman. He was ready to go for the kill, to end it all with the flick of his wrist, but he won’t, not until he gets the answers he thinks he’s looking for.
The brothers have been back a few times, switching out turns, both of them determined to break me, both relentless in their tactics, their manipulative little mind games, and sickening skills. I’ve never wished for death like I do at their hands. Fuck, I thought being taken by Lucas Miller was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. How could I have ever known the three men who swore to protect me would be the very men to bring me down?
I stare up at the ceiling, my body shaking, but it’s almost impossible to tell why. Maybe I’m cold, maybe it’s out of pure fear, or maybe I just need to close my eyes and sleep off the mental and physical exhaustion. All I want is get out of here and never look back, but that’ll never happen. Since the moment the bullet plunged into Marcus’ chest, my fate was sealed. I should embrace it. Hell, Roman and Levi would probably like that. It’d make their torture sessions that much easier on them. After all, no one likes to go to work, only to be stuck with someone screaming at them the whole time.
Fuck that and fuck them. Hell, even if I did somehow get out of here, where would I go? My apartment would already be housing some other poor fucker, and I can guarantee after a million missed shifts, I no longer have a job. I bet my turd-tastic landlord enjoyed cleaning out my bedside table and discovering what a little whore I am for those things. May you rest in peace, Tarzan. It was fun while it lasted, but don’t be fooled, the moment I can, I’ll be replacing that little bastard with Tarzan 2.0.
My bladder screams for release and my stomach growls for a good meal, though I sure as fuck won’t be relying on the DeAngelis brothers for that. I bet they’re hoping that I’ll just piss myself so they can come in here and humiliate me a little bit more. Though, watching grown adults pissing themselves isn’t exactly something new to them. In their line of work, they literally see it all.
My gaze shifts around the room, desperately trying to keep my mind off … everything. My body aches, my bladder hates me, and my heart is overwhelmed with grief that Marcus didn’t make it, but it’s not something I can allow myself to dwell on right now. I have to focus on myself, focus on surviving.
I haven’t taken much notice of the room that I’m in. There’s been a lot going on, and every time I think that I’m going to have a moment to myself to finally breathe, one of the brothers walks back in to fuck with my head. It takes me only a minute to realize that I’ve been in this room before. One of those first few days after the brothers had taken me. I sat in here, laid back on this very surgical bed and spread my legs for a doctor doing a thorough physical examination. He inserted a birth control rod into my arm … or at least I think it’s a birth control rod. One can never be too sure when it comes to the DeAngelis brothers. There’s also a tracking device inserted in there somewhere, though my guess is that the two are somehow connected.
The doctor had died only moments after our appointment, and that’s partially because of my big mouth. He tried to help me. He warned me about what happened to Felicity and that one move cost him his life. The brothers have sworn to me that the guy really did deserve it, that he wasn’t a good man and that his babies were better off without him, but what do they know? It’s not like they have a good father figure to compare him to.