I stare at Baron, trying to swallow. Trying to fit this information into what I know about that night that never ended, that nightmare that never did. I don’t want to have to piece the puzzle together, to think about it that hard, to look at it that closely. I can’t.
“Bullshit,” I say, glaring at him.
“It really was,” Duke says. “I swear. We just wanted to fuck with you a little.”
A text comes through on my phone, and I pull it out again and open it. A sick flash yanks tight behind my navel, making me lightheaded. I grip my phone and turn the screen toward them.
“Does that look like you fucked with mea little?”I ask, shoving the phone in Duke’s face. I’ve never looked at Preston’s pictures. I wish I hadn’t. But I want them to see when they’re not in their fever of perversion like they were that night. “Does that look like three guys fucked me?”
Duke turns his face away, struggling against the binding that holds his hands behind his back, against the chair. “Okay, okay, maybe we got carried away,” he says. “Put that up, and we’ll tell you what happened.”
“I fucking know what happened,” I growl, scrolling to the picture of my face and pushing it in front of him. “And how’s this for not messing up my face? I look like the fucking Joker. I looked like that for a week. So, you want to tell me why I shouldn’t make what your brother did to Colt look like mercy?”
“I’m sorry,” Duke says, squeezing his eyes closed. “It was just a game.”
I swallow hard, my stomach sour and shaking. “To you,” I say quietly, tucking my phone back in my pocket. “Everyone else’s life is a game to you. But it’s not a game to them. It wasn’t a game to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and I think the psycho is actually going to cry. “Please, just knock me out.”
“Like you knocked me out?” I ask. “Oh, wait. That would have been too merciful. You wanted me to suffer. That’s more fun, isn’t it?”
Duke’s mouth opens and then closes, and he stares up at me with such pleading eyes I almost fall for it. But I know better.
“You like humiliation, right?” I say, leaning down and resting my hands on his knees. His legs aren’t tied to the chair, but I know he won’t kick me. He’s a sad little boy, a coward like all bullies. He knows I could singlehandedly kick his ass, that the only reason he overpowered me before was because there were three of them and only one of me. Royal won’t save him this time.
“Then you should love this,” I say. “Call it a freebie. You can throw it back in my face any time.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Get this,” I say. “I actually thought you were my friend. How’s that for humiliating? I bought into your little game, and I cared about you. Not like all your Dolce girls who just want a fuck boy, or someone to buy them a necklace, or to be seen on your arm. I genuinely cared about you, Duke, as difficult as you made that. You were like… The obnoxious little brother I never had.”
He swallows, his nostrils flaring. “Wewerefriends,” he says. “We still could be.”
“No,” I say sharply, straightening to stand over him. “You don’t get to tell that lie, even to yourself. Because here’s what’s even more humiliating. I was so excited to have a friend, so fuckingdesperate,I actually believed the feeling was mutual. You didn’t have to pretend I liked it when you raped me, Duke. You could have just thrown our fake friendship in my face. That’s more humiliating than a biological response I had no control over. I should have had control over my mind. I should have known you could never genuinely care about anyone. After all, your love drove a girl to suicide, didn’t it? It must be scary to think about truly caring for someone again after that.”
“Harper,” Baron says. “You’re being a bitch.”
I let out an incredulous laugh and cross my arms. “I think I’ve earned the right to be a bitch. I think I’ve earned the right to crush your testicles until they rupture if that’s what I want to do. And you… You’ve earned the right to remain silent unless you’re kissing my feet and telling me how fucking sorry you are.”
“I am fucking sorry,” Duke says.
I lean down until our noses are almost touching. “I. Don’t. Accept. Your. Apology.”
I growl out my words one by one, and Duke flinches.
Baron’s right. I’m being worse than a bitch. I’m being a monster. But they woke this monster inside me, and it has something to say.
“He wasn’t the only one there,” Baron says.
I smile and turn to him. “Don’t worry. Your turn’s coming too, Baron.”
He just watches me from behind his glasses, and unlike Duke, I can’t read anything in his expression. He doesn’t look sorry, and I know if I get an apology out of him, it won’t be real. He’s not sorry for what he did. If he starts to regret it now, it’ll be what Royal accused me of—only being sorry for being caught. Baron might come to regret what he did to me, but he won’t be sorry for hurting me. He did it intentionally, and he liked it. He liked that he made me bleed. He’s the sadistic fuck in the family.
I look from one of them to the other, and then shake my head. “You know, I don’t know which is worse. Destroying someone’s life because you believe you have the right, and you actually want to do it and enjoy it, or doing it even though you know it’s wrong.”
Dawson groans from his spot on the floor beside Baron.
“What about him?” Duke asks. “How come you’re not tearing him a new one?”