CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

AVERY

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP?” my brother asks when I enter my study.

“I could ask you the same?” I say, running a hand down my unshaven face. “Did the guys get it done?”

He nods and changes the subject. “Is she okay?” he asks, dropping his eyes to the drink in his hand.

“No.” Then I grab a drink. “She knows about us setting her up at Conway’s.”

His eyes widen. “She what? How?”

I shrug. “He showed you the video. He showed Damon. Who knows who else he showed. Or maybe Darrell told Vaughn. Who the fuck knows.”

He bows his head and lets out a long sigh. I take another drink. She went into my bathroom and started to cry. I wanted to take her into my arms, but I couldn’t. She hates me. And she has every right to. I betrayed her. But I didn’t owe her shit! She should be thanking me. I saved her twice. Once from Damon and then from my psychotic brother.

I take another drink and look at Tristan.

He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, swallowing nervously. “What is it?” I ask him, knowing something is up. Maybe he’s been down to see Lance, and he gave him some information. I haven’t gone to see him yet.

“I need you to see something.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

His eyes meet mine. “And I need you to promise me something.”

“You know I don’t make promises.” I sigh, tired. I just wanna crawl back into bed with Bunny, but she pushed me away. She’ll never let you touch her again.

“I won’t show you until you promise me you won’t get mad.”

“Who will I get mad at?” I ask.

“Yourself.”

“Just fucking show me!”

He stands, downing what is left of his drink. Then he turns on my flat screen that hangs on the wall above the fireplace.

A video starts to play. It looks like a home video camera, and it’s shooting in the house we grew up in. It comes to a stop outside my dad’s study. “I need you to take care of it.”

We hear his voice as the door opens slightly, and the camera looks inside. I see my father’s friend and personal doctor, Lance, standing there before my father.

It’s older. I can tell by the way my father has his study painted. And he hasn’t lived in that house in over eight years.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” Lance says.

My father huffs. “Take care of it. What is so hard for you to understand about that?”

“You’ve knocked her up?” Lance asks.

My father shakes his head. “Not me.”

“I can’t terminate a pregnancy unless you are the father.”

“You’ve terminated them for me in the past.”

“Yes, that was because they were your slaves. She is not your slave.” My father sighs frustrated. “The difference is that your slaves have no way of escape. No way to tell the outside world what you did. Or what I did.”

“Trust me, she won’t speak,” he assures him.

He shakes his head. “I said no. And I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“I don’t understand …” My voice trails off when the screen goes black, and after a second, another pops up. “What is this …?” It’s my old bedroom. My bed sits in the middle of the large room. My dark blue comforter on the floor. The matching sheets are tangled. There’s blood on the fitted sheet.

My father stands on the opposite side of my bed. Lance stands in front of him once again. The bed obscuring the view from their knees down.

“What the fuck did you do?” Lance demands.

“I did what needed to be done. Now you do your part,” he snaps.

Lance looks over at my bathroom door that is open, but you can’t see the floor because my bed is in the way due to the position of the camera. “I want no part of this,” Lance says, throwing his hands up and taking a step back.

“You will fucking do this!” my father demands. “If you don’t, I will make sure this town knows just how fucked you are.”

Lance hangs his head. His eyes focus on something on the floor. “The hospital will have questions. Even if I bring her in.”

My father shrugs. “Tell them you found her in a ditch somewhere.”

“They’ll do a sexual assault exam …”

“I raped her,” my father admits with no shame.

“Did you use a condom?” Lance snaps.

“Of course not.” My father scoffs.

“Fuck …”

“I made her bathe,” he says, and Lance runs a hand through his hair. “I need you to make sure the baby is dead,” my father presses. “Then once that is confirmed, I’ll have my men pick her up and take her away. She needs to disappear.”

“Why not just kill her?” Lance asks, shaking his head as if he would rather dispose of a dead girl than a damaged one.

He rolls his eyes. “Because that’s too easy. I have a plan, and you’re fucking it up. So do your part!” he snaps. “If he thinks she just left him, he’ll be angry. And anger is a great motivator.”

Lance runs a hand down his face and lets out a sigh. “You killed your grandchild.”

My heart stops at those words. Up until this moment, I was a little confused. Now it’s clear what I am watching. I take a step toward the TV.

“No, she fucking killed it the moment she got knocked up!” my father snaps. “Now make sure it is done,” he demands.

Lance looks over at my adjoining bathroom again. He walks into it and then bends at the knees, my bed cutting everything from his neck down. After a few seconds, he stands, and my chest tightens when I see an unconscious Bunny in his arms. She’s naked. Blood covers her beautiful face and neck. Bruises dot her body and between her legs.

My father steps toward them and brushes short blond hair from her busted face. “I can see why my son was obsessed. But she was never his to take.”

Then the camera shuts off.

I watch the black screen waiting for more. Waiting for anything but nothing comes.

All this time. For eleven years, I thought she left me and had an abortion. But the truth was my father raped her and then beat her to the point he killed our child.

I fist my hands down by my side. Why didn’t she tell me? How could she …

“Avery?” Tristan calls my name softly.

I look over at him as my heart pounds in my chest. “Where did you get this?” My voice shakes.

“I found these when we rescued Presleigh. When you sent me to ask Lance about the keys. He told me where they were, and these were next to them. They had her name on them.” He looks away in disgust. “I watched them when we got back here. I wanted to tell you but didn’t want to bother you at the time.”

“Did you fucking know about this?” I shout.

He takes a step toward me and growls. “No.”

I run a hand through my hair and take a step back. I feel sick. And pissed. I spin around and yank the door open.

“Avery, don’t,” he calls out, but I ignore him.

I make my way to my bedroom and see she isn’t in bed. I open the bathroom door and find her in my shower, sitting on the shower floor, her leg propped up so the bandage won’t get wet.

“Who was all there at the house with you?” I demand.

She looks up at me with her bloodshot eyes and it fucking breaks my heart. “Vaughn was there.”

“Who else?”

“No one.”

“Bullshit!” I snap, and she flinches. “Who else was fucking there?” If Vaughn was there, then so was my father. They’re thick as thieves. Always have been. I didn’t think of it until now. Now that I know what he did to her years ago. “Bunny.” I growl.

She pulls both of her knees up and wraps her arms around them. Then starts rocking back and forth.

I step into the shower, and she cowers back into the wall, a soft sob coming from her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, and she flinches. “Bunny …”

“Avery?”

I turn around to see Tristan standing in the bathroom away from the door looking right at me. His eyes quickly look down at her before meeting mine once again. “There are other ways for you to find out what you need to know,” he says softly.

I nod. “Give me a second.”

He walks out, and I take a deep breath before crouching outside the shower. She looks straight ahead. All this fucking time! All the fucking lies! I believed them. How stupid of me. I watch the way she sits, huddled by the wall, rocking. She looks terrified. Of me. I did this to her. I swallow the knot that forms in my throat. Now is not the time for me to become a little bitch. So I ask. “Are you hungry?” She doesn’t answer me. “I’ll have Marvin make something for you.” Then I stand and walk out of my bathroom, not giving her a chance to argue.

_______________

I stand down in the cellar, my brother standing beside me. Lance kneels on the floor in front of me with his arms tied behind his back thanks to Kayn. We both look down at him. His chest rises and falls fast as he breathes heavily. He bares his teeth. “Just fucking kill me and get it over with.”

Tristan laughs, and I just smile at him, knowing I’m getting ready to play. “Now why would I show you that kind of mercy?”

He growls. “Because I didn’t fuck her. I didn’t beat her.”

“You didn’t stop them,” my brother snaps, getting irritated.

I rub my chin with my hand, allowing myself to drown in the anger. “And you didn’t tell me eleven years ago that my father killed my child while he raped and beat the love of my life.”

His eyes widen, and I bend down in front of him. “You lied to me all those years ago. Oh, yeah, I found that out too.”

“He wanted me to abort the baby,” he says quickly, “and I wouldn’t do it.”

“That won’t get you any brownie points,” I say.

His head sags. “Your father is a very sadistic man. If I wouldn’t have done what he wanted, he would have made me pay.”

“Now I’m going to make you pay,” I inform him.

I stand to my full height, and my brother turns to face me. “I think he was the one to tell him she was here,” he muses. “I keep racking my brain trying to figure out how Victor knew she was with you. Darrell could have told him or Vaughn, but how would he have known what Victor did to her all those years ago? And Lance is the only one who has seen her who knows.”

My brows pull together, and my brother rolls his eyes. “He came when you found her in the bathtub almost dead. He acted strangely about it too.” He looks back down at him. “Seeing her here. With you.”

I haven’t really thought about it. All that mattered was that she was gone, and I needed to find her. How they knew she was here didn’t matter until now.

“Is that true?”

“Your father has kept an eye on her, making sure she stayed far away from you, but then he found out she was on Damon’s radar. But I didn’t tell him. I saw her here with you, and I panicked. When he called me, he already knew you had her and just needed the right opportunity.” He squeals like a fucking pig. Much easier than Darrell.

“Was he at the house with you and my brother?” He bows his head. “Was he?” I shout.

“Yes,” he says softly.

I grind my teeth and fist my hands. Why isn’t she telling me this? This changes things. Vaughn is a sadistic man, but my father was the one who taught him. He plays games better than anyone I know. “What were his plans for her?”

He shakes his head as if he can’t believe he has ended up in this situation. “She was to be his slave.”

“Until …?”

“Until he broke her.”

I grind my teeth. “Broke her how?” Our father has many different definitions for the word broken.

“Physically. Mentally. He wanted to watch you suffer, not knowing who had her. Or what was happening to her. And then eventually he’d killed her and drop her body off at your front door.”

“And what part were you supposed to play?” I vibrate with anger.

“I was to be her personal doctor. Sew her up when needed. Relocate broken bones. Make sure …”

“Make sure what?” I snap when he stops.

“Make sure she was kept alive.”

Keep her alive? What was he gonna do to her? My imagination runs wild with thoughts of him cutting her over and over only to have Lance stitch her up. Then starting the process over again. “Hold him down,” I order Tristan.

Lance jumps up to his feet and tries to run toward the door, but my brother grabs him by the collar of his shirt and throws him onto the only table in the room. My brother jumps up onto it as well and straddles his chest, holding him down. Now my brother isn’t big, by any means, but he’s strong. That was one thing my father instilled in us. You want to win? Then you know how to take out your opponent. Doesn’t matter that they are bigger. That makes them slower. You always be faster, quicker, and smarter.

I walk over to the end of the table where Lance’s head is. He struggles to free himself, but his hands are tied behind his back, so he has no leverage.

I pull out the Ziploc baggie in my back pocket and open it up. His eyes widen when he sees what’s in it.

“What are you going to do with that?” he asks, his voice laced with fear.

“You’re gonna eat it,” I tell him.

“FUCK YOU!” he roars.

“Open your mouth,” I order, and he clamps it shut just as we knew he would. “Tristan.”

Tristan places his hands around Lance’s throat and tightens them to the point of asphyxiation. His face turns red, and he tries to shake it.

I stand, looking down at the man I once called a friend who has become one of my biggest enemies. He’s gonna pay for not telling me what happened years ago. And for helping my father. In the most horrific and depraved ways. He forgot who taught me how to slaughter those who deserve it. My father. At least he was useful for one thing.

Finally, my brother lets go of his neck, and Lance opens his mouth to take a deep breath, needing air, and I shove the piece of skin that I cut off Bunny’s leg into his mouth. Then slap my hand over his mouth. “Swallow,” I order.

He shakes his head viciously as his chest starts to heave. Right now, his mouth is filling with extra saliva, and his mind is telling him to spit it out. I don’t remove my hand. I hold it over his mouth, pressing down while my brother continues to straddle him. Tears form in his eyes, and his face turns red.

His chest convulses, and he closes his eyes. Then we see his neck work as he swallows it.

My brother climbs off him, and I remove my hand from his mouth and tap him on the face. “Good boy.”

“You’re fucking sick!” he shouts while his body shakes.

“Tristan,” I say, holding out my hand. He places the black ball gag in it. The same one I used on Bunny the night I tied her to her bed and gagged her.

Lance goes to cuss me out once again, and I shove the black ball gag in his mouth and quickly fasten it behind his head. “Now, don’t go and puke. You’ll drown yourself in your own vomit. And I’m not done with you yet,” I say, rolling up the sleeves to my shirt.

PRESLEIGH

I sit up against the wall, my hands still cuffed behind my back. My knees are pulled to my chest, and my forehead rests on them. My eyes are closed, but I’m not sleeping. Instead, I’m wishing I would die.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I know they visit me often. Well, Victor does anyway. Vaughn hasn’t returned since he got kicked out earlier. And I’m thankful. I can’t even fight off one, let alone two.

The smell of sweat and blood makes me want to barf. But I’ve swallowed the bile more times than I can count now. Afraid they may make me lick it up.

My leg still throbs where he branded me with two letters, and every time I look at it, I wish my hands were free so I could claw it off.

It stands for everything I said I’m not–slave.

I don’t know why I never just told Avery I was his slave. Because being his toy was nothing compared to belonging to his father.

The door opens, and I whimper, unable to take anymore. “St … op.” I don’t even recognize my own voice. It’s scratchy, and my throat’s raw. So many tears and so many screams. I’ve lost it.

He crouches before me and grabs my hair. He yanks my head back, and I look at him through watery eyes. No matter how bound I am, he still likes to hit me.

“I want you to know that it was never personal. It would have been any daughter your father had.”

“What?” I ask closing my heavy eyes.

“I won you in a poker game. When you were ten. But by the time you were old enough to be my slave, my son had fallen in love with you. And then you got pregnant with his child.” He sighs as if disappointed. “If I would have taken you to be my slave, he would have fought me for you, and although he would have never won, it was just easier to let you go. Until I found out that he had you. And that you were his slave.”

I grind my teeth. “I’m not …” I cough. “A sla … ve.”

“You’re definitely not free, Presleigh.”

“Fuck you!”

He shoves my head into the wall so hard that my vision blurs. Then he pulls me down to my back by my hair, and I no longer cry out. My throat too raw, my body too numb. There’s no reason to fight. Maybe if I give up, he’ll kill me sooner rather than later.

 

“Bunny?”

I blink, pulling myself out of that memory and look up to see Avery enter the shower. His clothes are gone, but his hands and arms are covered in blood. He places them under the shower, and the water washes them away, letting me know that it wasn’t his.

I look down at my hands, and my throat tightens. I know he got the answers he wanted. Lance is fucking weak. He always was. “I’m sorry.”

He kneels in front of me and places his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Never apologize.” He growls. “You did nothing wrong, you hear me?”

I say nothing.

“Answer me, Bunny.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He places his forehead on mine and sighs heavily. “I should have been there … I should have tried …”

“Stop,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You were here this time.”

He sighs. “Because I put you there. I’m sorry, Bunny.” He falls to the shower floor and pulls me into his chest. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. The lies.” I sob. “Never again,” he whispers, holding me tightly.

_______________

It’s been four days since Avery and the guys found me. I look better, and I feel better, but Avery doesn’t see me as such. He still makes me take my pain pills and says that if I stop, it’ll be too late to catch up on them. I don’t argue.

I lie in his big king-size bed. Dark sheets and a dark comforter envelop me, keeping me warm. My body finally feels normal. Almost my own.

I stay silent and lying down when I hear the door to his bedroom open and watch him enter his room. He closes the door behind him and heads straight to the bathroom. There’s no light on, and the sun set hours ago.

I sit up and push the covers off me and open the bathroom door without knocking.

He stands in front of the shower. The door is open, and he’s already turned it on, but he’s still getting undressed. He stops unbuttoning his shirt and looks up at me.

“Bunny. What are you doing awake?” he asks surprised.

I ignore his question and look over his white button-down. It’s covered in blood. And so are his pants and shoes. I know he’s been somewhere in this house with Lance. He’s gone all day and then returns late at night. Just like this. He takes a shower and then crawls in bed next to me. Usually, I pretend to be asleep but not tonight. He doesn’t say much to me since he found out that his father is involved.

“Did you kill him?” I ask, referring to Lance.

“No.”

“Are you going to?” I need to know he won’t come back to hurt me anymore. It’s been four days, and I still feel the threat, especially since he is in the house.

“When I’m done with him,” comes his answer.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. We haven’t talked about what happened while I was gone. And since I never went to a hospital, I never had to tell the police or anyone. What he doesn’t understand is that it’s not hard for me to discuss it. Not with him. Not this time. I need to get it out. I need to talk to someone about it. I’ve allowed what happened to me eleven years ago to eat me alive. Slowly. I won’t allow Victor to do that to me again. “I don’t remember much when I first arrived,” I say, and he tenses. “I was out of it.” His eyes meet mine, and they are void of any emotion. I know it’s taking all his power to mask it for me. “I was placed on a table. My arms and legs tied down with leather straps of some sort.” I swallow, trying to remember. “They injected my arm with something. I was too weak to fight them. I know they sewed up my neck, but I didn’t feel it. I did, however, feel my shorts being pulled down. And then my underwear was cut away.” The anger he tries to hold back seeps out through his burning eyes. “I felt fingers.” My brows pull together. “They were wearing gloves. He said he needed to check me …”

“Enough!” he snaps and starts to button his shirt back.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back down there,” he growls.

I’m guessing he is referring to the cellar, but I don’t want him to leave me. He’s been so distant since he found out about what his father did. And we haven’t discussed anything regarding this Damon guy or my brother. He’s here but not really. He stays in this angry place all the time. “Don’t,” I say, stepping up to him and placing my hands on his chest. The blood doesn’t bother me. He’s making them pay for what they did to me. To us.

But he’s leaving me all alone. I need him to hold me. I need more …

I can feel his heart racing, and his breathing ragged. “Stay with me.”

“Bunny.” He growls.

“I need you, Avery. Please,” I beg, knowing that will get me what I want.

Being naked and chained to a wall will change you. It made me realize that I have been chained for eleven years. Ever since I was forced to leave him. Ever since I was beat enough to lose our child.

He lets out a long breath and lifts his hand to cup my face. “I’ll make them pay.”

“I believe you. But can you do it later?”

He sighs heavily, lowering his forehead to mine. “What do you want, Bunny? Tell me what I can do to make it better.” His voice is full of pain.

I hide my smile by biting my lip, knowing I can get what I want. “I want you to fuck me.”

He pulls back as though I slapped him. He stares down at me with a mixture of concern and total shock. “What?” he asks as if he didn’t hear me right.

“I want you to fuck me,” I repeat, but my voice lacks the confidence I had the first time I said it.

He takes a step back from me, raising his hands as if to keep me away. “No,” he says.

My chest tightens, and I take a step toward him. “Avery …”

“I said no, Bunny,” he snaps. “Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Everything.

He snorts, not believing me, and I wrap my arms around my chest. “Get out,” he demands, pointing at the door. I just stand there, staring at the floor. I’m exactly what I didn’t want to be. Damaged. He sees me as a victim rather than a survivor. “I said get the fuck out!” he roars.

I drop my head to my chest as my eyes fill with tears, then turn around and walk out of his bathroom and bedroom, heading upstairs back to my room.