My freedom from the handcuffs is brief—too brief to tamp down the fear pounding in my chest.
I’m hauled to my feet, struggling against Simon’s hold of me as he throws me over his shoulder, striding over to the metal examination table. I groan on impact when my spine takes the brunt of the hit. It all happens too quickly, and my sluggish body is useless to fight back.
“Now you can struggle; I’d actually prefer if you did. Watching what remains of your…” Lenora ponders her next word as though it’s important as Simon tightens the leather straps around my wrists and ankles, “spirit,” she spits, nodding at Simon and shooing him away when he’s finished his task.
He returns a moment later with a branding poker, the cursive letter B burning red from the heat of the open fire, crackling and fizzing as the cool air hits it.
“The marks on the women in the photos…” That’s all I get out before Simon pushes it into the tender skin above my breast, the blood-curdling scream ripping from my lungs, my soul wishing it could be expelled along with it. I choke on the sound, my limbs stiff and rigid as shooting pains pummel every nerve ending in my body. I welcome the bliss of unconsciousness that drags me away into the darkness, the blurred edges of oblivion soothing this brutal reality.
Peace.
Calm.
Nothing.
The tangy tasteof smelling salts coats my tongue as a sharp vapour fills my nose. Panting breaths fill the room as I thrash against my restraints. My head is foggy, that knitting-needle-stabbing-behind-my-eyes feeling in full force as I blink back against the bare overhead bulb searing my retinas.
“Cara?” All the colour drains from my face when I turn and see Ezra standing in the doorway, the Knox brothers at his back, shock alight in those mesmerising mismatched eyes of his as concern seeped in anger tugs at his features. “What the fuck is this?” he barks, spreading his attention between everyone in the room, his fists tightening as a vein throbs in his neck, likely deciding who he’s about to kill first.
Lenora cups her hands, turning to him with a saccharine smile. “Ezra, how lovely of you to join us.”
For a man of his size, Ezra moves fast. He lunges for me, but he doesn’t get far. The crack of Simon’s bat splits the air, a fresh splattering of blood across the length of it as Ezra collapses to the floor with a dull thud.
A choked protest claws its way up my throat. The ragged whispered pleas for the twins to help Ezra are swallowed by the pounding of my thumping heartbeat filling my ears. My body gives out, slumping back against the table; the room spins around me, any thoughts of an escape melting into the void as I sob.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EZRA
“Wakey-wakey, Sleeping Beauty,” Simon sniggers as he throws a bucket of water in my face. The haze of my impromptu nap ebbing away as the basement room comes into view.
“What the fuck is going on?” My vehemence is directed at Lenora as she stands tall with a shit-eating grin. I scrub at my face, trying to clear my spotty vision, only realising now my hands are bound tightly with rope in front of me. As a kinky fucker, I’m well-versed in the beauty of a little bondage, but this right here is a fucking mistake. I use my teeth to work at the bowline knot, but it’s impossible to work it loose.
“You’re not the only one who likes a little rope play.” Lenora chuckles heartily as she watches me. I shudder at the implication of everything she’s not saying.
“Please, spare me the visual, Lenora. This back and forth is fun and all that, but would someone mind enlightening me on why the fuck I’m here?”
The cocky show of stoicism in me is wiped from my expression when Simon approaches Cara. No longer strappedto the table where she was when I entered the room, she’s now handcuffed to the radiator in the corner. When he gets close enough to her, she spits in his face. He lunges for her, but she’s quicker; she takes out his ankles, and he drops to the floor at her feet. Using the opportunity to do some damage, she digs her heeled boot into his hand, using her toes to press and twist, likely dislocating a finger or two when he squeals like a prized pig ready for slaughter. Fuelled by rage, he grabs her by the throat and squeezes. Her eyes widen with shock as she struggles to breathe, tugging against her restraints as her face flushes red. I scramble forward on unsteady legs from my seated position, but I only make it a few steps when I feel the cold metal of a gun pressed against my temple. The room goes quiet, Simon’s grip of Cara tightening as her feet try to get purchase on the floor.
“Simon, let her go; I’ll let you play with her later if you’re a good boy.” The perverse ownership bond between them has my stomach churning. Obediently following his master’s order, his hold of Cara slackens, and he grins, that serpent tongue slipping out and wetting his lips as he backs away. My soul weeps at the sight of her trussed up like a beaten down animal, her dress in disarray with a few buttons torn off, exposing the red lace bra meant for my eyes only. I notice the puckered edges of a fresh brand burned into her skin. Turbulent waves of fury wash over me, the rage swelling in my chest.
“You fucking branded her,” I seethe, looking between Lenora and Simon, not knowing who I’m going to decapitate first for what they’ve done to her. Jealous, possessive, incensed—the war of emotions I’m feeling are all consuming as my heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“Ahh, she loved every minute of it. I saw your little carve job on her arse when Simon carried her in here—are you sad mine is bigger, Ezra?” she taunts with a pouty lip, close enough to my face I gnash my teeth together, jolting forward at her beforeSimon kicks me back. “Don’t be a baby, Ezra.” She steps towards the open fireplace unfazed. Always so put together, an honest to God demon hiding her true identity in this human meat suit.
Hell hath no fury like an emotionally inept sociopath with an overbearing God complex.
“My stepson here, or is it nephew, I get so confused,” she teases, approaching me from behind as Simon holds me by the ropes securing my wrists. She ruffles my hair like she did when I was little, always tugging it at the root to let me know she was the boss when I didn’t do as she requested. This woman has never been anything like my mother, and it’s not until this moment that I realise how much she is like my father—twisted, fragmented, and devoid of humanity.
I can see the confusion on Cara’s face as she pieces it together, her lower lip bobbling and her brows pinched as she looks between Lenora and me, hunting for the subtle similarities that would affirm the familial bond.
“That’s why you don’t challenge him? Why he doesn’t seem to abide by the same rules as all the other patients?” The questions barrel out of her, her voice barely a squeak in the quiet room. Confusion lingers between her pinched brows. I’ve memorised her expressions, and it’s impossible not to note the lacing of hurt that muddies the usually clear ocean blue of her eyes. She thinks I kept this from her on purpose.
“I don’t challenge him because I don’t need the fuss and fanfare of the repercussions, and he doesn’t abide by the same rules because if I had to keep him in line, I’d end up killing him—and all that lovely inheritance I get for keeping him here would disappear. He does as he pleases because I get paid, plain and simple. I told my sister to abort him when she told me she was pregnant, and she wouldn’t have it—her love for him sickened me—just as your love for him does.”
“We don’t love each other,” the lie tumbles from my lips, my bid to diffuse the situation and maybe spare Cara from Lenora’s wrath. I see the split second when what I’ve said hits Cara. She flinches at my outburst. Even though it isn’t true, it spears her heart enough that the doubt settles in its wake. Everything I said to her when I held her close to me in her bed was the truth. I am so in love with this woman, and I hope she can hold onto that because showing Lenora that Cara is my weakness won’t work out well for us right now.
Lenora laughs heartily and throws her head back, scratching her forehead with the barrel of the gun. “Don’t make me laugh—you think everyone can’t see the two of you? You’re a weak mess with hearts in your eyes, it’s clear as day. I knew the second I saw you out there with her, the day she arrived, that this was a mistake, but still I let it happen.”
