My eyes flicker to him. “What?”
He gasps, pressing his fingers to his lips. “Oops, did I let the cat out of the bag? Goodness, I certainly hope that doesn’t put a damper on your relationship with dear ol’ Daddy.”
“What do you mean, you’ll be able to pay him back?”
Clicking his tongue, he moves in front of the fireplace, switching the mystery object so it’s still hidden from my view. “I really shouldn’t say.”
As my mind swims with possibilities, trying to keep up with his nonsense, he just sighs.
“Oh, fine. I’ll bite since I did bring it up.” He speaks to me over his shoulder, while he messes around with the fire. I hear it crackle and spit as he toys with the flames, but when I crane my neck to get a better look, he moves with me. “I know you think I’m this evil mastermind who set out to hurt you, but the reality is much simpler than that. Your dad paid me to do it.”
I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to laugh, cry, and puke all at once. “You’re such a fucking liar, Preston.”
“Normally, yes.” He shrugs, unbothered. “Don’t tell me you never wondered why he didn’t take you seriously in the first place. What kind of overprotective dad doesn’t launch into immediate investigation mode when his precious angel tells him she was brutally assaulted?”
“What kind of person casually talks about the assault he orchestrated?” I snap, his words bringing the memory once again to the forefront of my brain. My fingers hook into the neckline of my top, and I focus on my breathing, trying not to have a panic attack again.
Turning around to face me again, Preston holds up one hand. “Hey, I didn’t really orchestrate it. Your dad offered me a lump sum if I could get you in a compromising position. He brought the guys in. I mean, some of them were my friends, but for the most part they were just looking to bang Miss Prim and Proper.”
“Why would he do that?” Shaking my head, his words still don’t compute. Daddy’s a lot of things, but… evil? No way. “Why would you do that?”
Stepping forward, Preston finally slides his other arm out from behind his back, revealing an elongated metal rod that looks a lot like a fire iron. The blunt, odd-shaped end glows orange, like he’s been holding it to the open flame this entire time.
I swallow, eyeing the bar. So much is happening right now that my nervous system struggles to keep up, but this new addition makes my chest feel like it’s caving in.
“’Cause you agreed to it.”
“When I thought it was just going to be you and one other person.” Shame floods my bones, incinerating the strength in my marrow. “You lied to me and said you needed money, and that if I did it, you’d be off the hook.”
“That part was true. I just needed more money than I initially thought. Apparently, you can’t gamble with the mob and not pay up. Your dad offered me a way out, so I took it.”
“You drugged me. Raped me.”
“Whoa, now. Easy with the R word, Lenny bug. That’s a serious accusation.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline, and exasperation wraps around my sternum, pulling tight. “You’re insane. Literally a fucking insane person. I hope Jonas cuts your dick off when he gets here.”
“Ah, yes, your knight in a dirty leather jacket.” Sighing, Preston continues walking toward me, wielding the iron like a baton. He stops just in front of me, lifting the metal so I can see the flat shape at the end.
It’s a W, hollowed out and engraved with tiny roses and thorns inside. I squint at the shape, trying to place its familiarity in my mind.
“When all this is said and done, that psycho assassin’s getting pinned for this, too. Gonna make sure to mark you up with his brand, so everyone knows he came back to finish you off. Won’t be hard, since your scar will match the one he leaves on all his other victims.”
Daddy’s head. The scar he got the night of the assassination attempt that helped police identify Jonas in the attack.
It’s the same W as the little charm on the corded bracelet he wears.
The Wolfe family insignia.
“You’re not marking me.”
Preston smirks. “We’ll see about that.”
As he advances, he tilts the iron, aiming for my collarbone. My fingers twitch, the idea of him scarring me like this physically, in such an intimate way, pushing vomit up my throat. I choke it down, jerking back when the heat brushes my skin.
“Wait!” He pauses, narrowing his eyes, and I exhale slowly, looking down at the metal just centimeters away.
Silence fills the air in the house just as much as the shadows, and I realize that it’s entirely possible Jonas won’t find me here.
Even if he does, the odds of breaching the security system and making it to us before Preston has a chance to hurt me more are slim.
I don’t want the mark of the man I love tainted by the one who broke me.
Pinching my eyes shut, I send a silent prayer to God, the universe, whoever’s listening that Jonas can appreciate the dedication I have to this no-longer-fake arrangement.
Especially if I don’t make it out of this alive, which the devious glint in Preston’s gaze tells me is a genuine possibility.
I have no idea when this man went from grade A douchebag to psycho killer, but I don’t really have the luxury of time to think about it, either.
Inhaling, I open my eyes again. Look up. “I can do it.”
“Do what?” He shakes the iron. “You want to put his mark on your body?”
“Yes. I’ll do whatever else you want, just… just let me do this.”
He doesn’t respond for several seconds. My knees are screaming at this point, begging me to get up off the hard ground, but I ignore them. His eyes scan my face, searching for signs of deviance, I assume, but finally he backs off with a hoarse laugh.
“Always knew you were a bit of a freak. If you think this’ll help him sleep at night, have at it.”
Grabbing a pair of bolt cutters from a gardening bag he brought in from the garage, he fits them on the chain linking my cuffs and severs it. Adjusting my top, one of my hands drops into my lap, while he forces the iron into the other.
“Hurry up, before it cools down. I want this to hurt.”
Internally, my eyes roll, and I turn my wrist so the W faces me. My hands tremble so violently, it’s hard to position the shape correctly so it misses bone, and my entire face flushes as the heated metal draws nearer.
Gritting my teeth, I remind myself why I’m doing it.
That I’m taking back my power by not letting Preston inflict more damage.
For Jonas.
The first brush of the scalding iron against my skin yanks a whimper from my lips, and as I press in slowly, nausea bubbles like a cauldron and makes me dizzy.
Raw, searing pain ripples along the length of my collarbone, and the pungent scent of melted flesh floods my nostrils, suffocating me. I hold it there for as long as I can stand it, until my fingers are numb and my vision starts to blur from the sheer magnitude of the pain, and then I drop the iron to the floor.
A choked sound crawls from deep in my being, and I collapse forward with my hands on my knees, gulping down air.
Preston bends, brushing a few strands of hair from my face as he leans in to inspect. “Holy shit,” he breathes, a smile in his voice. “You actually fucking did it. What a crazy bitch—”