Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
What the fuck is going on? Did Jordan bring me here?
My heart races, panic coursing through my veins and making me want to hurl, but I hold it back, too determined to get out of here. There’s clearly only one way in and one way out, and as far as I can tell, I’m all alone in this little hellhole. The only question is, what exactly does Jordan think he’s going to do to me down here? He’s been more than handsy with me the few times I’ve seen him, and after that frat party where Zeph knocked him out, I can only assume that he’s brought me down here to finish the job.
There’s no doubt about it. He’ll rape me, and while it’s not something I thought I would ever have to mentally prepare for, I can at least try. But does it get worse than that? Will he just hold me down here for a while before finally letting me go, leaving me traumatized and broken? Or does he have something a little more sinister in store for me? Was that camping trip the last ray of happiness I’ll ever get before he murders me in this shitty little storm cellar? Will I ever get to see the light of day again?
I don’t know whether to be relieved that it’s just Jordan and not the mystery Vag Destroyer. Both situations are shit, but with Jordan, I can hold on to the hope that someone will eventually find me. They have to, right?
If this storm cellar is in his backyard, then what are the chances that Zephyr has been here before? Maybe he played in this very cellar as a kid. But The Vag Destroyer, not even Caesar could figure out who the fuck he is.
Fuck. How is this my life?
I pull against the heavy chains on my wrists, trying to get leverage against the ground, but it quickly becomes clear that I’m well and truly fucked. I’m not going anywhere, not until someone physically gets me down.
Minutes drag out, and with every passing second, my arms begin to truly ache until their pain becomes worse than the throbbing in my skull. The trickle of blood on my face has dried, and as I glance down at my body, I try to take note of the injuries I’ve already sustained. There are a few cuts and bruises along my thighs, and while it’s dark in here and hard to see, I swear there’s a small piece of glass protruding from my waist. My back aches, and as I move around, I notice a few places where the ache is more of a sharp sting, and I can only assume that there’s more glass embedded there.
At least an hour passes before I hear the sound of metal against metal outside the heavy door, and my eyes become glued to the opening. The sound sends shivers through my spine, and as fear creates a lump in my throat, making it hard to breathe, I keep myself focused, not knowing what’s about to come.
The door opens a moment later, and the bright sunlight floods through the opening, momentarily blinding me as two people stride into the cellar. I squint into the brightness as they walk down the steps, leaving the door open behind them.
My eyes quickly adjust, and when I take in the faces before me, I suck in a sharp breath.
The woman from Vixen—the one and only bitch who’d broken into Caesar’s home only a week ago—stands in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks at me with disgust.
Annie scoffs and looks back at Jordan, and as they stand together, I can see slight similarities between them. Is this Jordan’s mother?
“All that fuss for this?” she says, her gaze returning to me, sweeping up and down my body. “What a waste.”
“Wow,” I say, nodding my head while trying not to cry. “I’ve gotta give it to you. I didn’t see this one coming. If I could give you a round of applause, I would. Though in hindsight, I suppose I’m not all that surprised. After the bullshit you pulled at Caesar’s place last week, it’s clear the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. You’re both fucking crazy. I wonder if you could get a two-for-one deal at the asylum.”
Jordan pushes forward, his fist already swinging into my ribs. “Listen here, you little bitch,” he growls as pain radiates through my side, stepping in so close I can smell the old sweat lingering on his skin. “I’m running this show. You don’t get to talk to my mother like that.”
Bingo. She’s his mother.
I wonder if Caesar knew that. However, considering he couldn’t even recall her name, I doubt that he has any idea of the connection.
“Your mother’s a whore,” I spit at him, hating the insult, but if it gets under his skin, then there’s no line I won’t cross. “You should see the way she gives it up to every man she comes across at that club. They just use her and move on. Don’t even bother remembering her name.”