When I came to, Gray was no longer sitting over me. Instead there was another man crouched over my arm, attaching an IV line or something. My left wrist had been unbound from where it’d been above my head and was now tied to the side of the bedframe, keeping my arm out straight by my side so that the crook of my elbow was exposed for this guy to do whatever the fuck he was doing.

“What—?” I asked groggily, feeling my face throbbing with pain and my magic prickling as it tried to heal me with what little reserves I had left.

The man flicked a glance at me but said nothing, instead carrying on with what he was doing. Once the line had been inserted into my vein, he withdrew a test tube sized vial and tucked it surreptitiously into the inside pocket of his jacket before screwing a line into the port.

My blood began flowing freely down the line and into a bag that he’d laid on the floor beside the bed, and he stood up to address Gray, who was leaning against the door and watching with unblinking eyes.

“All set. It should take only about twenty minutes to fill that bag, then we switch it and fill one more. Anything over that and we’re likely to kill her, and it’s my understanding you wanted that honor for yourself?” the man addressed my childhood abuser, who grinned savagely.

“If she can be killed,” he grunted. “But it’ll be damn fun to try.”

“I’m going to go and make another appearance downstairs but will be back in twenty minutes to change the bag over. Do what you will in the meantime, but don’t disrupt the drain.” The man snapped his briefcase of tools shut and let himself out of the room while Gray prowled back towards me once more.

“Did you hear that, Foxy? I can do with you what I will.” A slimy leer slid across his face as he raked his eyes down my near-naked body. “You play your part just like old times, and I might let you enjoy it. After all… this doesn’t have to be all business.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” I coughed out in a weak voice. “If you honestly think I’m that same scared little kid, following your script, you’re more delusional than I gave you credit for. And as for enjoying it… I’m far too old for your tastes; you couldn’t get it up if you tried, let alone do anything with it.”

The unhinged look in his eye suggested he was, indeed, more fucked up than even I had realized. I knew what he wanted; it was what he had wanted every, single godforsaken time he’d visited me in Mother Suzette’s foster home. He wanted me to beg him to hurt me. Tell him that I loved it, loved him, and that I wanted more.

The memory of eleven-year-old me—wailing in pain but repeating his revolting script—echoed through my brain, and I shuddered, stuffing those memories back in their box where they belonged.

“Perhaps, but until you’re a good girl and tell me you love the pain—which you’ll say, sooner or later—I know one thing I can do that will bring me worlds of pleasure.” He picked up one of my deadly sharp daggers from off the dresser and approached the foot of the bed where my ankles were still zip-tied to the frame. With almost gentle fingers, he untied the delicate, red satin bows around my ankles and slid the shoes from my feet.

“Do me a favor, would you, dear?” he asked casually as he trailed the tip of my knife over the sole of one foot.

“Oh yeah?” I replied sarcastically. “What’s that?”

“Scream.” He grinned, slamming the blade into the center of my foot so that it protruded out through the top. I badly wish I could say I gritted my teeth and swallowed my scream of pain, but I did not. Partly from sheer shock but largely from the overwhelming, searing agony radiating up from my foot, the scream that did rip from my throat was one of pure misery, and I was repulsed to see Gray’s dick visibly harden through his slacks when I desperately looked down the bed at him. Evidently, he didn’t need me to follow the script after all.

Not that it changed anything. I knew all too well how easily he got off on hearing me beg, and I’d be fucking damned if I made this easy for him. If he wanted to get his sick and twisted rocks off, he could go about it the hard way.

“Perfect.” He grinned, then yanked the knife back out again and left me sobbing. I thrashed against my bonds, desperately trying to push some strength into my limbs. Not much, just enough to break the damn zip ties, a feat that would have been a walk in the park at my full power.

“Uh-ah-ah,” Gray tsked. “You heard what the good doctor said, no bumping the blood drain. Sure you don’t have anything you want to say to me?”

“Bite me, you sick fuck,” I panted, feeling my face slick with sweat as I worked to control my pain and fear.

He sighed as though he’d expected something different. Waving my slick, blood-coated blade in the air, his beady eyes took in my trembling frame. “Now, that blood is earning me a pretty damn huge favor, so I can’t go wasting too much of it before the bags are full. After, though... well, after the doctor retrieves what he came here for, then all bets are off. I intend to see exactly how much you can heal from before you finally give up.”

Circling around to the side of the bed, he stood over me a moment before slamming the long dagger straight into my belly, all the way to the hilt. Another tormented cry tore from my throat, and my breath came in short, sharp gasps.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit.

After years of torture at Gray’s hands, I’d thought myself capable of withstanding any pain, but the memories had faded and this… well this was a lot worse than I’d remembered.

Logically, I knew my body was going into shock. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened, so I knew the warning signs. On the one hand, it meant a break from the cruelty, but on the other, I’d be unconscious. Call me crazy, but I considered passing out a win for Gray, almost as much as if I said what he wanted to hear. So no, I’d cling to consciousness with everything I had.

“I wonder how well you’ll heal if I leave that there,” Gray mused, tapping the hilt of the knife thoughtfully. “I can’t pull it out; you’ll bleed far too quickly, and that would be counterintuitive with the blood collection. I may be a sadistic prick, but I’m not stupid.”

He tapped the hilt a few more times while he appeared to be pondering his options. Meanwhile, I could feel sweat beading and rolling down my forehead as my body tried to comprehend all that was happening.

“Feeling chatty yet, Foxy Girl?” Gray enquired, running his slug-like tongue over his lips while he leered at me.

There was so little magic left in me, and it was rushing all over my body like it didn’t know what to try and fix first. I wanted to tell it not to bother, but of course I knew it wasn’t sentient. If it was madly trying to heal my wounds, it was because my subconscious desire to live was forcing it to.

I didn’t bother trying to respond to Gray. What was the point?

“Hmm, well, just a little more blood loss shouldn’t hurt,” Gray pondered aloud, then gripped the hilt of my dagger and twisted.

“Motherfucker,” I finally gasped out from behind clenched teeth after screaming yet again. “As soon as I’m free, I’m going to rip your balls off with my bare hands and shove them down your throat so far you choke on them.”

The twisted man barked a laugh and grinned down at me. “Don’t be pathetic, Foxy. You’re not getting free this time. Now be a good girl and beg for more; tell Mr. Gray how much you love it. How much you love me for giving you what you crave.” He stood close beside the bed, and I could clearly see his erection straining at his pants along with the little flecks of saliva beading at the corners of his mouth.

“Eat a dick, Richard,” I snarled, spitting at him once more and causing a furious frown to cloud his features. Glaring at me with eyes narrowed in anger, he stalked back over to the dresser where all my weapons had been dumped and picked up two more knives.

“I said,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth. “Beg me for more, you little bitch.”

“And I said,” I panted, desperately fighting the lightheadedness of my impending pass out. “Eat a fucking dick, Dick.”

An enraged growl rumbled out of him, and he raised his hand up high, then slammed one of the blades deep into my thigh. A shudder rippled through me as I felt the blade hit my femur and scrape off it to the side.

“Try. Again.” He glowered down at me, but I was already too far gone to give a flying fuck what he might do next.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I gasped, and his eyes lit up, clearly thinking I was about to beg for my life. Deluded fuck. “I’m not going to kill you straight away. That’s far too kind to a pervert like you. I think after I castrate you, I’ll drop you in a maximum security prison and ensure they know just how much you get off on torturing and raping little kids.”

His eye twitched in rage, and he slammed another knife into my other thigh, glaring at me feverishly as I howled.

Briefly, my stubborn determination slipped, and I considered telling him what he wanted to hear. I knew from experience he would lose interest pretty quickly after getting off, but I had promised myself over and over in the years since Omega had rescued me that I wouldn’t give him control again. I wasn’t a helpless kid anymore. I was an adult. I was powerful. This—this was fleeting. He couldn’t touch me.

Panting and shaking, I forced my gaze back to his. He could have my body, torture me, kill me, it didn’t matter. Deep down, he knew he hadn’t won until I spoke those disgusting words.

For a long moment, Gray held my gaze with his shiny, insane eyes before he sighed heavily and turned back to the dresser. “I brought a few tools of my own along too, you know,” he commented, like we were discussing the fucking weather or something. “Now, let’s see here...” He dug around in the drawer for a moment, then came back with a couple of instruments, which he laid on the bed cover beside me.

The angle I was tied at made it impossible for me to make out what exactly those tools were, but I sure as fuck recognized the brass knuckles he slid onto his fingers, then closed his fist around.

Oh fuck, this is going to hurt.

The thought barely had time to register before his fist came slamming into my side. Distinctive cracking sounds reached my already ringing ears as my ribs broke, and Gray’s face split into an excited grin once more. No longer bothering with his need to make me beg and plead, he rained blows down on me, switching the brass knuckles to his other fist when his first must have become tired.

Eventually he stopped, puffing, with sweat patches spreading under his armpits. My eyes were beginning to roll back into my head, and it was everything I could do to stop myself from passing out. I would not give him the satisfaction of giving in.

“Stubborn bitch, aren’t you?” he panted, tossing aside the brass knuckles and picking up a pair of needle-nose pliers and waving them in front of my face. “See these? I’d intended to use them to rip out your fingernails, but I don’t want to risk disrupting this drain...” He tapped them against his chin. “But I’m always open to compromise.”

Circling back to the foot of the bed, he grasped the little toe of my undamaged foot and lined up the pliers with the nail. Looking up at me with a twisted grin on his face, he chuckled.

“I’m not going to lie, Foxy; this is going to hurt.” He gave no further hesitation before clamping down on the little nail and ripping it from my flesh in one smooth motion.

My jaw clenched hard. I bit back a scream but couldn’t do anything to save the moan of pain as the nerves in my foot shredded and burning agony lanced up my leg. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision, and cold shock rushed over me in waves while I desperately clawed my way back to consciousness. It was becoming painfully obvious he wanted me to pass out. Well, fuck him.

“Still hanging in there, huh?” he observed, lining his pliers up with the next toenail over. “Maybe I’ll do this next one slower. Really drag it out.” As he said this, he began pulling with his pliers, tearing the nail from my skin with excruciating patience while my nerve endings fractured and frayed. This time I really did scream, the sound coming out hoarse and dull in my agony.

What the fuck was I thinking? I couldn’t do this. If I really was immortal, then this pain truly might never end. There was no easy escape for me in death. My only hope was for Gray to become bored, but given he’d been waiting six years for this opportunity, I doubted it’d happen any time soon.

Maybe it’d be easier to just let him have what he wanted. Control. Obedience. After all, they were only words, right?

Haze swept across my vision, blurring the room and Gray’s leering face in and out of focus, and I knew I was losing the battle. My magic was almost entirely depleted now; I could barely feel a single tingle of it trying to work. Or maybe that was just because the pain of my many injuries was outweighing any other sensation? Hard to know.

Dimly, somewhere in the fog of near unconsciousness, I heard Wesley’s voice calling my name. But that didn’t make any sense; I’d thrown my receiver into the pool. Hadn’t I?

“Kit, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Wesley’s voice called softly, seeming to echo through my head rather than meeting my ears like a normal voice might.

“Wesley?” I murmured, not totally sure if this was a pain-induced delirium or not.

“Who’s that?” Gray sneered at me. “One of your useless boyfriends that won’t be coming to save you?”

“Sweetheart,” Wesley’s voice echoed again through my head. “I’m with you. You don’t need to answer out loud; you can just think your thoughts to me.”

“Wesley,” I groaned silently, realizing with an even deeper spike of despair that he had been changed after all. “I can’t do this, I’m not strong enough. It all hurts.” Even inside my mind I could hear the desperation to my words. I was giving up, I knew it. It was only a matter of time.

Maybe it was for the best? Gray was a sick, sadistic bastard; there was no question. But his motives were personal, primal, selfish. If I gave in to him now, let him have my mind, would my magic then be out of reach to those who would destroy the world with it?

“Kit, this isn’t you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” Wesley’s voice scolded me inside my own head, and I frowned. “Sweetheart, fight him. I know you can do it.”

“How, Wes? I’m weak, bleeding, and tied down. I’m useless. How the fuck can I fight him like this?” Tears rolled freely down my face. Not from the pain, but from desperation. I could hardly believe it had come to this, that Gray might win.

“Wes?” I whimpered inside my head. My thoughts were punctuated by Gray tearing another of my toenails out, and I had no doubt my scream echoed through my thoughts as well as the room. Blood ran freely down the sole of my foot now, and it almost tickled as it pooled on my heel and dripped off.

Something clicked inside me though. Not all wins had to be physical, and in this situation, the most important win was mental.

Fuck him. Gray, that was. He could do what he wanted to my body, but Wesley was right. I’d made a promise to myself to never let Mr. Gray bend my mind to his will again, and here I was about to let him do just that. No. He wouldn’t win this one.

I’d come so damn far from the scared little girl I’d been in Suzette’s foster home. I’d healed, damn it. Found a life for myself, albeit a dangerous one. Found several men who, against my fears, cared for me. Hell, River had even said he loved me.

That sealed it. I hadn’t even told River I loved him back, so there was no way, no fucking way, I was letting Gray have those words. I’d get through this and then… then he’d suffer.

“Hang in there, Kit. Austin is almost there.” Wesley’s voice was faint as the pain dragged me back to full consciousness once more, but he’d left me with a grain of hope.

Austin was coming; this would all be over soon.

With that one, comforting thought, I dove head first into the creeping blackness.