Luther,” he slurs. “They’re going to make you pay.”
I close my eyes and pray for calm.
“You’ll beg for death.”
I swing around and lean toward him, inching closer, resting my elbows on my knees. “And who, exactly, is going to do all this to me?”
He beams a bright smile, his eyes lazily blinking. “Robert. You know Luther promised you to him. And the things he’s going to do to you…” He laughs and flops onto his back, gyrating his hips to the night sky. “You will probably love it. Just like you loved everything Luther put you through.”
I gasp. My throat constricts.
“You think I enjoyed what Luther did to me?” I can’t keep the shock from my voice.
“You give him exactly what he wants because you love the dick. We all know. Luther does, too. He laughs about how pathetic you are.”
He’s serious. He truly believes I enjoyed the torture.
“That’s why you stayed the longest. Luther loves that you love him.”
“Well, Luther’s dead.” I burst to my feet, about to plant my foot into his ribs. “Robert, Chris, Tadd, Argus, and all the rest, too. And you’re next.”
“Hey.” Luca starts toward me, cutting me off before I reach my target. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not true.” I attempt to walk around him, to get to Otis, only to have the wall of muscle sidestep into my path. “He’s wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
I shake my head, my cheeks heating. I can’t repeat the conversation. I don’t want anyone to even question what I did. How I survived. But my depraved strategy haunts me. I did give Luther what he wanted. I worked hard to make sure I was his favorite.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Luca steps closer, his hands reaching toward my arms.
I bat away his touch. “Don’t let him get to me?” I keep repeating those words in my head, but can’t quit the resentment that follows. Luca is asking for the impossible. Otis is already under my skin, his toxicity speeding through my veins.
“He’s taunting me.” My voice cracks. “He’s practically laughing at me.”
“That’s the drugs. Things will change once we get him back to Torian.”
I’m not appeased. Not in the slightest. Setting Otis on fire, one slow inch at a time, wouldn’t give me enough satisfaction. “What will you do to him?”
“Whatever necessary to get information.”
Information.
Shit.
“I-I was meant to help you find Luther’s office. And the safes,” I ramble, trying to drown out more regret. “I forgot.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this fucker to talk. He’ll give us a lead or two.” He jerks his head toward the bench seat. “You should sit down and rest.”
How can I sit when the scum of the earth thinks I enjoyed my punishments? How could I possibly rest with those accusations hanging over my head?
God. I feel so dirty. So worthless.
I turn away, dragging my feet to the back of the boat to stare across the inky black. It would be too easy to jump over the edge with one of those duffels tangled around my feet. I’d drown, the death not coming quickly or painlessly, but at least my suffering would soon be over.
There would be no more taunts of illusive freedom.
I’d finally escape this hellish existence.
“She’s a fucking whore.” Otis’s voice raises over the purr of the boat. “A dead whore.”
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around my middle, the weight of Luca and Sebastian’s judgment on my shoulders.
I don’t flinch at the thud that sounds moments later, or the cry of masculine pain.
“Ignore him, Penny,” my brother demands. “Just fucking ignore him.”
I try my best, but the alternate thoughts lying in wait are all about Chloe. About death and fear and failure.
By the time we reach Torian’s island, I want to vomit. Bile teases the back of my throat. The only thing stopping me from falling to my knees is the knowledge I won’t have the strength to get back up.
I remain in place as Otis is hauled to his feet and dragged onto the jetty. I don’t follow when Luca calls out, “Are you coming?”
“In a minute.” I need more time. Maybe a lifetime.
He nods, his focus already on retribution as he helps Sebastian drag the guard along the trail to the mansion, all three of them quickly disappearing from sight.
I stay there, alone in the silence, blanketed in darkness.
Is this what freedom feels like? Is it the tightness of pure isolation? The punishing weight of guilt? The acidic taste of failure?