I’m trying to be as calm as possible, because Phoenix is clearly reacting to the panic that’s wafting off of me.
But the fear of what the next few hours might hold is overwhelming.
“Well, gotta say, I heard she was pretty,” one guard says. “But didn’t realize how pretty.”
“Put your dick back in your pants, Cena,” another guy retorts. “She’s off limits.”
“Says who?”
“Someone has to say so? Budimir will cut off our fucking cocks if we touch her.”
“Yeah, sure, he will—if we touch her before he does. He won’t have a problem with what we do to her after.”
I sit there, and for the first time since I’ve left my father’s compound, I feel truly and completely invisible.
I am reduced back down to an object.
A thing to be used and discarded as it suits the whims of the men I’m surrounded by.
Even in the darkest days of our relationship, Artem had never treated me like an object or an ornament.
“Bet she has a nice, tight pussy.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at that little shit in her arms. He’s probably stretched her the fuck out.”
“Yeah, I hear pussy bounces back fast.”
“Fuck you all.” The words leave my mouth before I can think twice about them.
But even after they’re out, I realize I don’t regret saying them. Not even a bit.
I’ve taken enough shit from the cruel and ugly men in this underworld. I won’t do it anymore.
I look up and meet the gaze of all four men that surround me. Defiant. Proud. If I’m going to die here today, that’s how I want to do it.
“What did you say, bitch?” one of the men rasps in shock and anger.
I frown, realizing that he’s probably only a year or two older than I am. He’s so fucking young and it makes me sad.
So young, and yet he’s already twisted. Already broken. Already stained.
“I said, Fuck. You,” I enunciate. My words come out with jagged edges.
And fuck, it feels good to fight back.
Phoenix starts crying right on cue, and all four men wince away as though the sounds is actually hurting their ears.
“Shut him up.”
“He’s a baby.” I glare back at them. “All he knows is what he can feel and he feels unsafe. Please, just… find your humanity and let me go.”
They look at each other in disbelief, like the concept of “humanity” was utterly foreign.
One guy turns to me. He’s got blonde hair and dark eyes and a face that might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so filled with contempt.
“And what do you think will happen to us if we do that?” he asks in complete sincerity. “You think Budimir will let us live?”
“He’s just a baby,” I say, feeling my anguish clog up my throat. “What has he got planned for my baby?”