Angel's POV
They hauled me forward again, but this time they weren't gentle. They dragged me like a sack of grain, my feet barely touching the ground, my arms twisted painfully behind my back.
We passed servants in the hallway, and every single one of them looked away. They saw me. They heard my sobs. And they did nothing.
Because this was normal here. This was just another night in Master Hawkins' household.
Finally, we reached those massive double doors. The same doors I'd been brought to every night since I got here. The doors that led to my nightmare.
The first guard knocked sharply. "Master Hawkins? We have the girl."
"About damn time!" Hawkins' voice boomed from within. "Bring her in!"
The doors swung open, and they shoved me inside so hard I fell to my knees. I stayed there, head bowed, blood dripping from my neck onto my white dress.
I heard Hawkins' footsteps approach, like a predator circling wounded prey.
"What," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "is that on her neck?"
Silence. Then one of the guards cleared his throat nervously. "She tried to harm herself, Master. Grabbed Jenkins' blade and attempted to slit her throat. We stopped her in time."
More footsteps. Then Hawkins was crouching in front of me, his fingers gripping my chin and forcing my head up. His eyes were cold, furious, as he examined the shallow cut on my throat.
"You tried to damage my property?" he asked softly.
I said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
His hand moved so fast I didn't see it coming - a backhanded slap that snapped my head to the side and sent fresh blood dripping from my split lip.
"Answer me when I speak to you!"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Yes, what?"
I closed my eyes. "Yes, Master."
"Do you know how much I paid for you?" Another slap, this one to the other cheek. "Do you have any idea how much gold I spent to own you?"
He kicked me in the ribs, and I curled into a ball, gasping. Pain exploded through my side, white-hot and all-consuming.
"You are mine!" he roared, kicking me again. "Your body is mine! Your blood is mine! You don't get to decide what happens to it! I decide!"
Another kick, this one to my back. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming, tasting more blood.
"I should kill you for this," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. "I should snap your neck right here and be done with it."
Please, I thought desperately. Please do it. Please end this.
But he didn't. Instead, he released my hair and stood up, breathing hard.
"Get out," he snapped at the guards.
They scrambled from the room, the doors slamming behind them.
I lay there on the floor, curled in a ball, every part of me screaming in pain. My neck ached where I'd cut it. My face throbbed where he'd struck me. My ribs and back burned from his kicks.
And yet - God help me -I preferred this pain to what was coming next.
At least this pain was mine. At least this suffering was clean.
Hawkins circled me slowly, and I could hear him breathing, could hear him trying to control his rage.
"Look at you," he finally said, his voice returning to that terrifying calm. "Bloodied. Bruised. Filthy."
I didn't move.
"Do you think that matters to me?" He crouched beside me again, his breath hot on my ear. "Do you think a little blood will stop me from taking what I paid for?"
My whole body went rigid.
"No," he continued, almost conversationally. "I'm going to have my way with you whether you're clean or covered in your own blood. Whether you're fighting or broken. Whether you want it or not. Because you are mine, and I do what I want with what belongs to me."
He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I swayed, barely able to stand, but his grip kept me upright.
"Now," he said, dragging me toward the bed. "Let's finish what we started."
He threw me onto the mattress, and I landed hard. I tried to push myself up, tried to crawl away, but he was on me in an instant, his weight pinning me down.
"Please," I whispered one last time, knowing it was useless. "Please don't…"
His hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. With his other hand, he grabbed the hem of my dress at my ankle.
And he began to tear.
The fabric ripped with a sound like screaming. He tore slowly, deliberately, starting at my ankle and working his way up my calf, my knee, my thigh. The white fabric parted like flesh, exposing my skin inch by inch.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my temples into my hair. This is how I die, I thought. Not with a blade to my throat like I wanted. But here. Like this. Broken and used and…
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Hawkins froze, his hand still gripping my torn dress at mid-thigh. The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
"NO!" he roared, his voice shaking with rage. "NO MORE INTERRUPTIONS!"
But the knocking continued.
Hawkins released me and stormed toward the door, his face purple with fury. "I am going to kill whoever is out there," he snarled, more to himself than to me. "I am going to snap their neck and feed their corpse to the pigs. And it better not be Harland. If my son has interrupted me one more time, I swear to God…"
He wrenched open the door so violently it slammed against the wall.
A young guard stood there, his fist raised to knock again. He didn't even have time to open his mouth.
Hawkins reached out with both hands, grabbed the guard's head, and twisted.
The crack was sickeningly loud - like a branch snapping in a storm. The guard's eyes went wide, then empty, and he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
I stared at the body in horror. He'd killed him. Just like that. Killed him for knocking on a door.
"Someone get this trash out of my hallway!" Hawkins bellowed into the corridor.
Another guard appeared, but he stayed well back, his eyes darting from his dead colleague to his enraged master.
"M-Master Hawkins," he stammered. "I apologize for the disturbance, but…"
"But what?" Hawkins roared. "What could possibly be important enough to interrupt me AGAIN?"
The guard swallowed hard, his face pale. "Lord Terrell is here to see you, Master. He's at the main entrance. With his warriors."
The name hung in the air like a sword suspended by a thread.
Hawkins went absolutely still.
"Terrell?" he repeated, his voice suddenly quiet. "Alpha Terrell? Here?"
"Yes, Master. He says he needs to speak with you."
I watched from the bed as something I'd never seen before crossed Hawkins' face: fear.
"Did he say what he wants?" Hawkins asked, his earlier rage completely gone, replaced by careful calculation.
"No, Master. He didn't specify."
Hawkins stood there for a long moment, his hand still on the doorframe, his knuckles white. Finally, he turned back to look at me - and the expression on his face made my blood run cold.
It wasn't anger anymore. It was something worse: frustration. Calculation. The look of a man who knew his pleasure would have to wait.
"Get this body out of here," he snapped at the guard. "And tell Lord Terrell I'll be down shortly. Offer him wine, food, whatever he wants. Do NOT offend him."
"Yes, Master."
Hawkins turned back to me one final time. "Don't move," he commanded. "Don't even breathe too loudly. When I'm done with Terrell, I'm coming back. And when I do..." He smiled, and it was the smile of a demon. "We're going to finish this. Every. Last. Inch."
Then he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
I lay there on the bed, my dress torn to my thighs, blood drying on my neck and face, my body aching from his blows.
A cold chill immediately settled over me, and I laughed.
It was a broken, hysterical sound, but I couldn't stop it. Because I knew that name: TERREL. I'd sworn never to forget it. It was a name that had been ringing repeatedly in my head. A name I'd sworn to kill before I leave this earth. And he'd made it easier for me. Made it easier by coming here.
I dragged by bruised body from the bed, not bothering to cover up my exposed self as I painfully walked to the door.
I MUST HAVE MY POUND OF FLESH!