Chapter 47

Chapter

Forty-Seven

ATHENA

Fear grips my heart as Paris goes into a duffle he has on the ground and pulls out a bottle of lighter fluid and starts pouring it on the wooden walls and floorboards.

“Oh yes, you are going to burn like the bitches of old. You know why they burned women at the stake right? Sure, they said it was witchcraft, but it was always the women who didn’t know their place that got torched.”

“You are insane,” I hiss. I start yanking my arms apart trying to break the binding around my wrists some more, but it’s useless.

“No, I am simply doing what needs to be done. Though I suppose there is no reason I have to hurry. I did put a lot of time and effort into you. I suppose I might take something for my troubles.” He throws the empty lighter fluid bottle across the room and grabs another. “We have time.”

My heartbeat is thundering in my ears again, and I can’t breathe. The room seems to spin as I try to break free. The twine doesn’t budge, but I can feel blood start to drip down my hands. I rock against the chair trying to break it, trying anything I can think of to get free.

“Oh don’t worry, little angel, this won’t be any worse than fucking Eros, I’m sure.” Paris’s cold sneer sends ice through my veins, and I try harder to get away from him.

He grabs the chair I’m on and pulls it back to its legs, I am sitting up again, and my head is spinning. I want to throw up and scream, but I can’t manage to open my mouth or take a breath. Tears blur my vision as he unties my feet, then my shoulders. I’m no longer attached to the chair, but my arms are still behind my back.

“Get up, you dirty whore.” He grabs me by the hair and flings me to the floor. He grabs the hem of my dress and tries to rip it off of my body, but I strike out with my heel, hit him in the gut, and knock him back.

I am not going down without a fight. He thinks he can rape me? He can kill me? I killed the last fucker who tried to do this. I am the daughter of Freya Godwin and the heir to the entire Godwin empire. I will not be taken out without a fucking fight.

I should thank him for calling me a whore and trying to take what I did not freely give. I have been dealing with men trying to touch me and fuck me since I hit puberty. And I will be damned if this coward who needs to drug and bind me will be the one I let win. I’m not scared in the slightest. I am fucking pissed.

“You are going to regret that.” He comes at me again, and I kick out. He grabs my ankle, so I use it to pull him toward me and knock him off balance before I reach out and strike him again, this time managing to hit him square in the balls.

He falls to the ground and knocks into the side of the table. The lantern on the table wobbles for a moment, and both of us stop to watch it. It doesn’t fall over and break on the lighter fluid-soaked floor.

Paris wheezes as he struggles to stand back up. I struggle to get to my feet, my legs scrambling to get under me, mostly just slipping on my dress’s silk lining. As he comes closer to me, I try kicking out again. He catches my foot and twists it hard enough to flip me over to my front. Then his boot stomps down on my other ankle. Something snaps, and the pain is instant, ripping a strangled scream from my throat.

It hurts more than anything I have ever felt before, but it doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here. I need to fight.

The pain from my ankle makes me retch, and I dry heave onto the floor a few times. Paris stands over me, grabs me by the hair, and pulls me to my feet. Another scream rips through me when I try to put weight on the foot he stomped.

“Go ahead and scream. No one can hear you here.” He pushes me so I am bent over the table, and while he is trying to rip apart my dress, I nudge the lantern off the table onto the floor and ignite the lighter fluid.

The fire spreads fast. He must have more accelerant in the duffle bag, because when the flames reach that, it explodes with enough force so both of us are thrown back.

When I open my eyes again, the room is engulfed in flames. My entire body is covered in sweat, and I am coughing trying to get air. Paris is lying next to me, unconscious. I need to get fresh air now. It’s getting hard to breathe, and I am going to suffocate before I burn. With my arms tied behind my back and my ankle broken, there is no way I can crawl out of here on my own. I look around until I see the damn chair on its side again covered in flames.

This is going to suck.

Ignoring the biting pain in my ankle, I shimmy back toward the chair. The stench of singed hair fills the room, and I try not to consider what that probably means. I hold my wrists to the flames on the chair and pull. The flames are licking my arms, and it hurts. Everything hurts. I use the pain. I use the adrenaline pumping through my body to push me. Finally, the twine breaks, and I can start crawling toward the door.

Even where the floor isn’t on fire, the wood is hot and rough, splinters digging into what is left of my silk stockings before embedding into my knees. I am about halfway across the room when something wraps around my ankle and yanks me back. I look behind me to see Paris, with a crazed fury in his eyes. Bracing as hard as I can, I try to pull out of his grasp, but he is so strong. I’m digging into the floor so hard my knees are scraped, and my fingernails are breaking. I let out another scream, and this time I think I hear it answered. It’s hard to tell over the cracking of the wood around us, but I think someone shouts. So I scream again.

“Get back here. No one is coming for you. You are going to die broken and alone at my hand, just like your fucking mother did.” Paris pulls at me again, and I fight with everything I have.

The door opens, and whoever it is jumps back as the flames by the door intensify.

“Help,” I try to call again but I inhale too much smoke, and I start coughing instead. “Help.” I try again.

“Athena?” comes the call from outside. I think it’s Heph.

“In here,” I try to yell.

Paris’s hand is now on my throat, and he is holding me down, choking me. The edges of my vision start to go black, and my limbs get heavy. The fight slowly leaves my body, and I can’ t stop it.

I hear Heph’s voice again when the weight pinning me down is lifted, and I am being carried out by Heph.

“Athena, can you hear me? Say something, beautiful, anything.”

“Fuck, this day,” I croak out, and he laughs.

I am sort of aware of another shout coming from behind me as Heph lays me on the cold damp grass, then Heph is replaced by Eros.

“Baby girl, are you okay?”

“No.”

“Paris is still in there,” Heph says before running back in.

Perseus is running toward the fire a moment later. Eros holds him back from going into the burning cabin after Heph.

I struggle to sit up, needing to see what is happening, when a loud crack sounds from the cabin followed by the roof caving in and Perseus screaming for Heph.

The screams of sirens fill the air, and before I know it, I am sitting in the back of an ambulance as an EMT is looking over my leg saying something about shattered and hospital . I’m not really paying attention, but Eros is. He is by my side and is refusing to let us leave until we know Paris and Heph are safely out of that building.

“Sir, I need to take her to the hospital now,” the EMT argues.

Eros gives the man a look that is by far the most terrifying I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, considering who my father and brothers are.

“We stay until we know the others are fine, then we will take her in. Is that clear?”

The blood drains from the man’s face so fast I worry he will pass out as he raises his hands and nods.

“Good. Now give her something for the pain until we can go.”

He nods again and starts rifling through the drawers in the ambulance and comes back with a needle. “This might make you sleepy.”

When I nod my consent, he gives me the shot, and I lie back in Eros’s arms.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you.” Eros’s voice helps soothe me, and the drugs are pulling me under when I hear a shout.

The last thing I see is two stretchers coming out of the building. One of them has two men. One lying prone and another sitting astride him performing CPR as they are being carried to the other ambulance.

My eyelids are heavy, and I can’t hold them open anymore. But I know one of my men is dead, and another may follow.