“I’m deadly serious.” Cut’s smile twisted his face into horror. “You had the choice to make me hard and deliver pleasure with your right hand. You had my cock in your fingers, your future in your grasp, yet you threw it in my fucking face. Well, your right arm will pay, Nila. It now has a different task.”
Nila fought harder, scratching at Cut’s hold with her free hand. “No, let me go. Let me—”
“You really should’ve bit down like I told you. Too late now.” Cut didn’t soften, raising the mallet above his head. “Do you repent? Do you take ownership of your family’s sins and agree to pay the debt?”
“No! Hell no!”
“Wrong answer.” Cut prepared to strike.
“No. Wait!”
His jaw clenched.
“Stop, please!”
“With or without your ownership, I won’t stop.”
His gaze glowed.
His arm sailed down.
The mallet became a black boulder of agony.
“This is going to hurt.”
THE MALLET SOARED downward.
No!
The whistle of wind heralded imminent agony.
Please!
The small cry was my soul escaping.
Don’t!
The silent scream from Jethro was my undoing.
* * *
The crack of impact.
Pain.
The loud splinter of skeleton giving way.
Torture.
The wave of sickness as mallet defeated bone.
Torment.
The cloud of unconsciousness that numbed everything.
* * *
The room spun and tilted.
I’m crippled.
The agony swelled and crested.
I’m mutilated.
The mallet left my burning broken bone, resting innocuously beside my wrist like a fallen executioner.
I’m in pieces.
I’m in splinters.
I’m broken.
I threw up.
* * *
There were two worlds.
The one where I’d existed only moments ago—intact, whole, afraid but complete.
And now, this new one. The one where I shook with excruciating pain…was in pieces…destroyed.
A delayed scream fell from my lips as I cradled my shattered forearm.
I screamed
and screamed
and screamed.
It hurt.
God, how it hurt.
I’d broken pieces of myself in the past. How could I not living a life with vertigo? But I’d never felt it coming. Never seen the pain unfolding. Never heard the agony delivered.
I moaned, battling wave after wave of deep throbbing pain.
Please…make it stop!
Gentle arms cradled me, embracing me, fingers wiping tears from my cheeks. “Told you it would hurt,” Cut murmured.
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t breathe around him. I couldn’t stay alive in a world where he existed.
No!
Shying away from his touch, I bit my lip hard enough to bleed. My intact fingers wrapped around my broken arm, soothing the burn, wanting to erase the damage. The flesh turned red and swollen, bloating with pain. It wasn’t disfigured or deformed but the hot swell hinted he’d done the damage he’d intended.
He broke it.
He hurt me.
He did this!
Noises clanked beside me.
I didn’t look. I let my hair curtain the outside terrors. I didn’t glance at Jethro. I didn’t blink. I didn’t care.
All I cared about was nursing my battered body and surfing the tsunami of suffering.
Time ticked onward, dragging me further into this new world where I hugged a broken limb. He broke me. He struck me. And all for what? So he could use the wound as a suitcase for his disgusting diamonds.
“Give it to me, please.”
Cut’s voice cut through my horror.
I curled tighter around my injury. “Fuck you.” Tears shot to my eyes. Not again. Please, not again. I couldn’t handle that pain twice.
I should've agreed to the hand job. I should’ve got on my knees and performed the blow-job he’d commanded. I should’ve let him fuck me—even if it meant Jethro would forever remember my willingness to be raped.
That was what Cut whispered, what he’d promised. He’d vowed I would enjoy it. That if I gladly made him hard, if I obediently removed my clothing and spread my legs, he would make me come, moan, beg for more.
I didn’t believe him. How could I ever do that? How could I ever betray myself in such a way? But I couldn’t trust he wouldn’t play my body better than I could control it. I couldn’t know if the drug-liquor had left my system entirely, and I wouldn’t give in. My options had been submit and let Jethro leave Africa unhurt and alive. Or not agree and watch Cut rip him apart once he’d raped me anyway.
What good were options when they only offered one conclusion?
I’m sorry, Jethro.
He’d come to my rescue only to find Daniel had touched me and I’d touched his father. What a fucked-up situation to be in.
Cut leaned against the table, his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s a simple fracture, Nila. You should be thankful I didn’t slice you open and insert my diamonds directly into your bloodstream.” His touch dropped, tracing an outline on my wrist. “You’ve kept all limbs. You’ve retained your precious body. This is merely a means to the final end.”
I looked up, shaking with anger. The pain plaited with rage as I stared him down. “One day, someone will do to you what you’ve done to others. Someday, your crimes will come back to visit you, and I hope I’m there to tell you to be thankful.”