When I open my mouth to speak, he shoves two fingers inside. I gag at the taste of tobacco touching my tongue.
“The longer you deny me, the more it’s going to hurt.” His eyes drop to my belly. “Give me your cunt, or I’ll carve a new hole in you to fuck—the same one where your baby lives.”
No! I can’t put my baby through this.
He pulls his fingers out of my mouth, causing me to cough violently. I hold my throat while trying to put space between us. He’s relentless. He’s waiting for me to perform.
I can’t let him hurt my baby.
“Please,” I beg, my voice sounding hollow and weak. “Don’t do this. I can’t—” I flinch when he grabs my blouse and rips it open.
“If you want your baby to live, you’ll do exactly as I say. Because here’s the honest to God truth:Idon’t give a fuck whether it lives or dies. But I knowyoudo. Which means you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do, and how I tell you to do it, if it means buying that little bastard another day on this earth. If your brat lives through it all, great. But if it dies, it’s no skin off my ass. Just another dead Bernadetti added to the pile. Another loose end all tied up.”
My limbs freeze up. I’m staring at the three buttons of his shirt that he unbuttoned at some point between the door and the cot. Gold chains hang beneath the fabric. Cologne wafts into my nostrils and makes me choke.
I don’t have any options left.
“Take off your clothes.” His voice is hard, tinged with a vague hint of threat. “I won’t ask again.”
Shakily, I slide off my pants, letting them pool around my ankles for a moment. When I kick them off, I hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties, trying not to look at him as shame flushes through me.
His breathing labors. His clothes rustle. I don’t want to see what he’s doing right now.
But I can take a wild guess.
I shuck my panties and shed what’s left of the blouse. When I reach for my bra, the cot wheezes and bounces up slightly. Cardona stands up.
Another round of hope battles its way to the surface. His pants are zipped open, but his cock isn’t out. He stands a few feet away from me while piercing me with his beady gaze. I struggle to remove my bra and lie back.
“Open those legs.” He grumbles something, cups his cock, and then says, “Show me that sweet cunt of yours.”
My knees tremble as I force them apart. I look away from him as I fight back the tears.
It’ll be over soon,I lie to myself. I’m going numb again, disappearing into a special place in my brain so I can handle this. He doesn’t make a move, causing that tiny sliver of hope to turn into a beam of light.
He might not fuck me. He might just touch me instead. And before I know it, he’ll cum early and be done. Guys like him don’t last long. All I have to do is grit my teeth through this.
I can do it. I’ve handled much worse.
Then the hinges of the door wheeze. My head snaps up from the bed. The beam of hope grows into a radiant sun. Is he leaving?
Just then, footsteps echo on the other side of the door—too many of them to count.
Hope dies, and I find myself falling into darkness.
I clam up when I see several men outside the room. They’re watching me the same way they did downstairs. One of them licks his lips.
No.
This isn’t happening. Thiscan’tbe happening.
Another man walks into the room. And then two more. I snap upright and hug my shoulders. The men surround the bed as the door claps shut. I can’t see Cardona. But I can hear him chuckling his way around the edge of the circle.
Chains clink somewhere in the room.
My mouth opens. My voice creeps out, sounding so far away that I’m not even sure I’ve said anything at all. It’s a weak, pitiful croak, “No.”
“Meet my most loyal caporegimes,” Cardona announces. His footsteps float to the right, and he pokes through the circle. “These boys work hard.”