Chapter 9

SCARLET

9

Idragged myself into the shower, knowing defiance and refusal was futile. It wasn't just my life on the line anymore.

I shuddered as the water cascaded over me with the harsh reality of it all.

Ray had been stabbed, and Noms was now under their focus.

I was royally fucked up. Sure, I'd done dumb things over the years, danced with the law, but this was beyond the scope of my usual shit-show.

"Fuck my life," I muttered quietly under the water. One month of servitude for these men. A thought that wrapped around me like a vice, trapping me inside my own skin.

I touched my throat, the warm water easing the ache of Cristian's brutality marring my flesh.

Would I even survive a month at his hands? I shuddered as I washed myself, the water doing little to soothe the darkness that had settled over my soul.

I'd survived a lot this world had thrown at me, even…

I closed my eyes, pushing the thought from my mind. The brutality of these men was not something I was unfamiliar with. Mankind was cruel, and I'd learned from countless years that there were plenty of people who hid a darkness behind pleasant smiles.

At least these men didn't try to mask it. There was some reprieve in that, if only a little.

The hot water had finally washed away the nausea by the time I stepped out, but the stench of bile lingered on my clothes heaped on the bathroom floor. Disgust curled up in my nostrils as I eyed the vomit-stained fabric. A knock at the door snapped my head up.

"Got something for you to wear," Ty's voice filtered through the wood, gruff with impatience.

I wanted none of his charity, but the thought of slipping into those filthy rags again made my skin crawl. With a resigned sigh and towel wrapped around me, I yanked open the door, and was met with Ty's towering frame. He held out a bundle of clothing—plain, clean, impersonal.

"Thanks," I muttered, more to the universe than to him, and snatched the clothes from his grasp.

"Kitchen's got food. Coffee might need a zap in the microwave." Ty didn't wait for a reply as he turned on his heel, his mind evidently elsewhere. "Got a meeting."

"Great," I said, the word dripping with sarcasm. "And what am I supposed to do?" My throat's ache returned, the relief from the shower gone in an instant.

No answer came; he was already striding away, his heavy footsteps marking his exit. Left standing there stupidly, a surge of rebellion bubbled up inside me. Fuck him and his brothers. I'd find a way to make this whole thing difficult for them, although I'd take care to not have the fallout hit my best friend or Ray. They were the only reason I was even entertaining any of this shit.

I was not someone who knew how to play nice and submit.

I ground my teeth as I got dressed, gargled some mouthwash, and made a mental note to request a toothbrush before I made my exit. There was no point hiding in the bathroom, they'd made it clear they'd get to me.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Cristian and Julian were nowhere to be seen, but I knew it was far too soon for me to let my guard down. I eyed the countertop with a mix of suspicion and relief. A cheese sandwich, nothing more than two slices of bread hugging a piece of cheddar, sat there looking about as unappetizing as my situation.

But I needed food, especially since my last meal had been lunchtime yesterday.

"Better than nothing," I muttered to no one, washing it down with the coffee that had gone lukewarm, not bothering to warm it up. It slid down my throat, a bitter reminder that this was real—no dream to snap out of. The queasiness in my stomach settled, not from the makeshift meal but from the sheer will to keep moving and stay ready.

A part of me wanted to curl up into a ball, sleep away the remnants of my hangover and pray I'd wake up somewhere safe, far away from here.

I rolled my eyes at the silly thought. Curling up wasn't an option. Not for me. I had to stay strong and survive this ordeal.

The apartment was quiet, too quiet. No sounds from outside, no mind-numbing stream from a TV. Just silence.

I took some slight solace in it, having enjoyed my alone time far too much over the years in the quiet. Silence, after all, asks no questions. Silence doesn't judge. It just is. And for now, that's all I wanted to be.

I'd been my own worst enemy since day one. Always snapping back, never knowing when to bite my tongue, a skill I'd only somewhat attained in recent years, although it still failed me at times.

I couldn't help but wonder about what I'd left behind—my possessions, my past life with Tommy. Mostly junk, really, but among the knick-knacks and photos were pieces of me—now just memories. Legalities on paper, the important stuff, sure, but everything else? Replaceable. I'd start from scratch when I was free.

At least Tommy would be regretting the pain he'd caused me now.

That brought me the slightest smile. So he'd lost a hand, that was a shame. One less appendage to sin with.

I rolled my eyes at my morbid thoughts, knowing it was my dark humor trying to keep me calm.

A door creaked from behind me, and I spun around, my stomach plummeting as Cristian's frame filled the hallway. His eyes met mine as a smirk twisted his face. At least he'd opted to be fully clothed in a far too form-fitting black tee and slacks. I wanted to hate him, although a part of me burned at the sight of him.

Why did my wretched captor have to look so damn fine?

"Look who's got more color to her face," he called out, loud enough for his absent brother to hear if he was here. "Seems a shower and a little food goes a long way."

His smirk told a story of control, of knowing he held the upper hand. I held his gaze, refusing to be the one to break away first. He didn't know just who he was messing with.

"Guess it does," I shot back, voice dripping with all the sarcasm I could muster as I ignored the throb in my throat. My hands clenched at my sides, the only show of defiance I was privy to.

"Julian's eager to test you out, kitten."

I shuddered as Julian appeared behind him, grinning like he'd just been gifted a shiny new toy.

"Are you really willing to risk it? Might puke up everywhere," I rasped out.

"We can bend you over, let you heave onto the floor," Cristian was quick to respond.

My lip pulled into a grimace at the thought of throwing up while being fucked. Just how twisted was he? Although Julian seemed unfettered as well, which was alarming. Maybe I'd hit him hard enough he'd lost all sense.

"Kitten," Cristian's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his dark eyes, "I've got a month to savor you. Not a second will be wasted."

His words were a cold promise, wrapping around me like chains.

"I suggest you get out of those clothes, pyro. Or we'll cut you from them," Julian spoke up.

"You might just have to do that," I hissed, fighting the urge to take a step back. I wouldn't let them see my fear, feed on my unease.

"Mmm, that would be fun." Cristian cocked his head at me.

They moved in, and I remained frozen, focusing on Noms and Ray. I had no choice but to surrender, to allow them to do this.

One month. I just had to survive one month. If I fought back too much, they'd kill me, or my friends.

Ray and Noms had become like my family, they were all I had.

I wouldn't condemn them for a stupid choice I'd made. I'd pay the price necessary.

"Are you afraid, kitten?" Cristian grinned as he drew up before me, his hand moving to capture my chin.

I didn't answer, only held those dark eyes like my life depended on it. Something flared in them as his smile widened, and then he used his body to drive me back against the kitchen counter.

"Take your clothes off before I cut them off you," he commanded, and my lip curled defiantly.

"Better do as he says, pyro, he might nick you with his knife." Julian snorted as he stepped up behind his brother, the pair of them looking at me like hungry wolves.

I steeled myself, my blood boiling as I raised my chin, not wanting to appear meek before them. I could take this, I had to. I'd survived this long in life, I wasn't about to let these two fuckers break me.

I pulled my shirt over my head, scowling at the deep chuckle from Cristian when he released my face, his gaze dropping to my bare torso. The clothes Ty had given me were only a shirt and shorts, no underwear.

Cristian didn't take a step back, forcing me to sashay the shorts off to avoid bending down and sticking my face in his crotch.

Goddamn asshole.

"There, don't you feel better?" Cristian said, his mocking tone making me grind my teeth. "Now, are you going to try to bite me or claw me?"

"I thought you liked me clawing you," I spat back, drawing a sharp laugh from him.

"I do, I even like it when you bite," he cooed as his hand caught my chin once more. "Now, I want you to fight me."

"What?" I narrowed my eyes.

"You heard me, I like it when you fight. If you don't, things will get more ugly," he promised as Julian smirked over his shoulder.

What did he mean by that? Was his roughness last night barely scratching the surface of what he would do to me? The thought made the sickness churn in my gut once more.

"Fight like your life depends on it. Otherwise you might not be talking again for the entire month." Cristian's hand moved to my throat, and I grimaced at the insinuation of more brutality on it. I was already struggling, my words raspy and hoarse. Anything further and I'd be lucky to swallow food.

His hand wasn't gripping me, just resting on my throat, and I glared at him. So I had to play the little mouse in this game for them.

Fine, I'd do it. Not for me, for Noms and Ray.

I shoved Cristian back with all my might, surprising him enough that he took a step back, his grin wickedly entertained as I tried to get past him.

Julian was quick to move in, sweeping me up into his arms and lifting me into the air as I struggled against him.

The sound of metal being drawn had my head snapping to the side, my eyes widening as Cristian pulled a butcher knife free from the knife block on the counter.

Fear tore through me at all the scenarios of how this could play out. Would he stick it inside me? Carve up my vagina for his gruesome delight? Was he that fucking sick?

Or would he slice my mouth open like the joker before face fucking me? I'd bite his dick off for sure then, consequences be damned.

I writhed against Julian, kicking with all my might, wishing I had some sort of shoes on when my bare heels made pathetic contact with his legs.

I hoped to god they left a bruise.