Ruin & Rule

I’d been home.

His body, his heart, his screwed-up head—it was home to me, and he’d just cast me adrift without a backward glance.

“You’ll never know anything about me. Privacy or not,” I growled, locking eyes with the man who’d thrown away all morality and justice to purchase me.

Mr. Steel’s face went red. “You—”

“She’s amnesiac. She’s broken in that respect. Her only flaw, I can assure you,” Kill jumped in, his voice strained and empty.

Mr. Steel took a moment to absorb the verdict of my broken brain. He tilted his head. “Is she normally this difficult?” He glowered in my direction.

Difficult?

They weren’t the ones being fucking sold! All of this was Kill’s fault. He was the difficult one by being a jackass and unbelievably stubborn.

My back stiffened and I threw pure hatred at the man who should be saving me from this nightmare, not shoving me headfirst. “I hate you, Arthur Killian. I gave you everything. I’m yours from before and now, yet you throw me away as if I’m trash.”

Mr. Steel looked at both of us, a smile plastered on his face. “Shit. It’s like watching a theatre production. You weren’t meant to fuck up the girl, Killian. That’s the new master’s job. Don’t you know the rules of trafficking?”

Kill stood locked to the carpet, not saying a word. His gaze tangled with mine, hiding so much but not hiding enough. I saw the fine edge of panic, the uncertainty—the second-guessing of right and wrong.

Mr. Steel continued, “Rules. Use the women. Take what you want from them. But don’t ever give them anything in return.”

“He didn’t,” I snarled. I couldn’t help myself. “Don’t worry about that. He took everything and gave nothing. I’d say he was a professional at selling women into slavery.”

Kill’s mouth parted, agony slicing over his face.

Good. I wanted him to hurt.

Mr. Steel laughed loudly. “Shit, I’m liking you more and more every second. And in response to your previous statement about her being broken, Mr. Killian—I don’t believe that’s true.” His smile stretched as he looked me up and down. “I wouldn’t say broken. I would merely say clouded. She knows there’s nothing in her past that will help her future.” The smile turned frigid. “Smart, really.”

He repulsed me.

He was evil.

He would die before he ruined me.

My questions from before were answered. What did he hide beneath that glittering veneer?

Darkness.

Oozing filth that I would never be free of. It would stick to me like black oil, even now smearing all over me. But I would willingly wade into his oil and use his darkness to slaughter him.

Mr. Steel lashed out, his fingers imprisoning my hipbones again. “I see what you’re thinking. Might as well forget those dangerous thoughts.” He dragged me closer, breathing hot on my neck. “They’ll only bring you endless pain, lovely.”

“Lovely, don’t be late today. You know your father is putting together a surprise party. You can’t miss it. It’ll break his heart.”

I bounced on the spot, full of life, full of hope. I was seeing him. I was celebrating my teenage beginning. My heart grew full to bursting at the thought of spending an uninterrupted hour beside him.

I was in love.

“I won’t, Mom. Art won’t let me be late.”

The memory snapped its Pandora’s lid closed, leaving me bereft. My heart filled with lead.

Truth.

I’d finally been shown the name of the green-eyed boy I loved.

Art.

Short for Arthur.

It was real—not in my head. I knew!

I launched myself away. Mr. Steel cried out in surprise as I stumbled backward and tripped over my own feet. Locking eyes with Kill, I shouted, “Art. I used to call you Art. You never let your mother cut your hair beyond your collar. You got your first motorbike when you were twelve. Art—you have to believe me.”

Kill’s face crumbled, water swam in his eyes, but still he didn’t believe. Still he preferred grief to hope.

I screamed as Mr. Steel snatched me, spun me in his arms, and slapped me.

My head snapped sideways as stars burst behind my eyelids. I moaned in protest as his hand captured my breast, pushing aside my bikini top to reveal my tattooed nipple.

“Fuck me.” He sucked in a breath. “You tattooed your nipple, too. You must have a high pain tolerance.” His eyes glinted as a Cheshire grin spread his lips.

My jaw locked as repulsion shuddered through me. I knocked his hand away. My stomach rolled. “I think the fire would’ve hurt more than anything a man with a needle could ever do. I’m immune to pain. And now thanks to the bastard behind me, I’m immune to emotional pain, too.”

Gathering spit in my mouth, I spat it right onto Mr. Steel’s chin.

Everyone froze.

Kill growled, “Fuck!”

Mr. Steel hadn’t moved and I shoved him. I didn’t know if it was shock or sheer disbelief that a slave girl had spat and cursed him but he didn’t move.

I rounded on Kill.

He backed up, eyes wide. “Stop it. Just fucking stop it!”

“Stop it? You stop it!” I shoved him just like I had Mr. Steel. My fingers sparked from touching his chest, but I welcomed the fire, nursing it deep in my heart. “Stop being so fucking weak, Art!”

Then I was falling, spread on the plush carpet with a man above. The steward flew from nowhere, wrenching my arms behind my back, binding them with twine. A harrowing flashback of being bound at the very beginning of this mess made me snap.