Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,57

Baron would never allow this. He wouldn’t.

But even as I try to convince myself, the doubts are tugging at my brain.

He doesn’t see me anymore.

I thought he was withdrawing as a form of punishment, but maybe I was wrong.

Maybe he is bored with me.

He does get bored so easily.

Maybe he just wants a return on his investment, just like Maxim did.

The words Baron said to me on the very first night ring in my ears like a cruel taunt, stinging as much now as they did then. Four men, three holes, I wonder what a little thing like you would do with the fourth one?

Bile rises in my throat as the man pulls my head back, forcing it up so I have no choice but to look at him.

“Tonight, we will find out exactly what makes you so special. But first…” he says.

“First,” someone behind me continues. “First you will tell us why he wears that mask. Who is he?”

Panic takes over my body as the words sink in. Up until this point, I’d been frozen in shock. Now that feels like a blessing.

I don’t know.

I can’t give them what they want.

The first man bends down slightly, his hand rearing back, and all I can do is close my eyes while the air shifts around me. My cheek stings as he cracks his open palm across my face. I can’t even turn my head away because of the iron grip on my hair.

I cry out from the fright of the impact.

I need to tell them that I don’t know anything, but my mouth won’t move for me.

And I can’t even shake my head.

It dawns on me through all the confusion that Baron doesn’t know. Somehow that makes me feel better. I start to hate myself again. Everything with me now leads to him. He’s not even here, and he’s still invading every thought I have.

“Who is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” I say, stumbling over my words.

The man with the grip on my hair just laughs.

“Such a shame. We’ll have to beat it out of you.”

He lets go of my hair only to kick me back with the heel of his foot.

I barely even feel the pain this time.

Thank fuck for adrenaline.

I’m not left on the floor long before different hands are lifting me to my feet. My heart sinks. Not again.

This one latches on to my breast and digs his fingers in brutally.

The lights go off.

That only makes it worse.

I can’t see anything. I can’t focus on listening to where they are.

But I still thrash and kick and struggle. I’m so sick of always being the weakest person in the room. The smallest, the stupidest, the least powerful.

It’s exhausting.

He pushes me, and I land face down on the bed.

I’m flipped around moments later. More hands join in.

I can’t even make sense of what is happening anymore.

There are just hands everywhere.

Grabbing at me.

Slapping me.

Pulling me this way and that.

If they would just stop for a second, just a second, perhaps I could find that castle in my head. But they are like starved animals. They don’t stop.

And then suddenly, light.

I look around, trying to count limbs or heads or anything… trying to see if it was one of them who turned the light on.

But the man above me blocks my view.

That’s when I hear it.

The sound of a gun firing.

Rapid.

One.

Two.

Three.

The man above grabs me, scrambling to switch our positions. To put me between him and wherever the shots are coming from.

He’s not quick enough.

Two men drag him away.

I scramble up on the bed, trying to work out what’s happening.

That’s when I notice it reflecting in the light of the lamp.

Metal.

The metal face.

The one that haunts my nightmares and fills my every waking thought.

He has the man on his knees between him and Andrei, a gun pointed at his head. The man is gasping for air, his eyes wide with fear.

“Miss me, sweet girl?” Baron says with a laugh.

How can he be laughing?

I want to scream.

There is blood everywhere, blood from the two bodies leaking all over my bed. The bed is black, but that doesn’t matter. I can see the shine. I can smell it in the air. It cloys at the back of my throat.

Baron stares at me for a long moment. My chest heaves both from the struggle and from the weight of his gaze. I know what’s going to happen next.

“Think about this,” Andrei says, his tone a clear warning.

“I’d rather prefer not to,” Baron replies with a chuckle.

I