“Jet owes me a favour. I call dibs on you.”
Curling my lip in disgust, I turn away from him once more. I’d sooner allow them to kill me before they pass me around like a fucking rag doll.
The sun is starting to set as we pull up into what looks like an industrial estate and come to a stop beside a nondescript warehouse.
“What is this place?”
“If Jet wanted you to know, he’d have given you the address himself, don’t you think?”
The front two get out before opening the back doors from the outside.
Before I even get a chance to move, a hand wraps tightly around my upper arm and I’m hauled out and to my feet.
“This way.”
His fingers bruise as he drags me along behind him, my feet unable to keep up with his pace while the guy beside him carries the bag Zach gave me.
I’m pushed through a doorway and then dragged down a hallway until the very last door.
The minute the second guy swings it open, I’m not too gently thrown through it.
“Ow. Fucking cunt,” I scream as I land on my hands and knees with a thud. Pain jolts through my kneecaps and up my arms, but I refuse to show these motherfuckers any kind of weakness, so I suck it down and stand, brushing myself off as I do.
In the centre of the huge office is a massive walnut desk with none other than Jet sitting behind it. He’s leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the wood, like he hasn’t got a care in the world.
The goon dumps the bag on his desk before shoving me toward the empty chair and pushing on my shoulder until I have no choice but to sit opposite.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Jet sings in his slimy, puke-inducing voice.
He unzips the bag and peers inside.
His brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything.
My lips remain sealed. It shouldn’t matter to him where it came from. It’s there, and my debt is paid. Deal done.
“You think this is the end?” he asks, almost like he can hear my thoughts.
“It’s all there. The whole amount. We’re done now,” I state.
He chuckles, and it makes the ball of dread sitting in my stomach grow. “You really think your darling mummy only owed me money? Oh no, no. After I cut her off, she made me a deal. One that would keep paying over and over.” I swallow my apprehension, my hands beginning to tremble.
“No,” I spit. “She wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but she did. And I’m cashing in. So, thanks for the money,” he says, pushing the bag from the desk as if it’s nothing more than a bag of rubbish. He drops his feet to the floor and stands, rounding the corner with his eyes trained on me.
“You’re mine now, Kassie. I gave your mother an endless supply to do with as she saw fit, and in return, I get her daughter.”
An evil smile curls at his lips, and I bolt—only he’s expecting it, and his arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides and putting a halt to any fight I might have in me.
“We’re going to have so much fun. And then I know my boys are desperate for a go.” One of his hands grasps my chin, and I’m forced to look at his henchmen who are standing guard by the door, their sick eyes undressing me. “What do you think, boys? Worth the wait?”
My stomach turns over as Jet lifts my shirt, pulls out a pocket knife and slices through the thin bit of fabric holding my bra cups together, then slicing through my shirt like it’s made of nothing more than tissue.
The fabric falls away from my breasts, but I refuse to react and give this prick the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me.
“You just love putting on a show, don’t you? I watched you at the club, you know. That little school girl uniform used to get me going just right. So innocent, yet so dirty. Knowing all those men were watching turned you on, didn’t it?”
I twist my head from where he’s breathing in my ear, keeping my lips sealed.
“Just like you’re going to enjoy it when I fuck you with them watching, waiting their turn to break you in for the rest of my boys.”
Before I know what’s happening, his hand is pushing at the waistband of my jeans. The shock of his touch forces me to react before I’ve even realised I said anything.
“No,” I scream, bucking against him.
“I love it when they fight. It makes the prize so much sweeter.”
“Get your fucking hands off me.” I slam the heel of my boot down into his foot.
“Fucking bitch,” he grunts, his grip on me tightening. The guys watching our exchange only get more excited, their eyes are dark with hunger, their fists clenched at their sides.
I thrash about the best I can in the hope of somehow getting away from this, from the inevitable.
Somehow, he manages to manoeuvre me so that my back is flat against his desk with both of my hands in one of his much bigger ones, pinning them above my head.
“Fighting won’t get you anywhere with me, sweetheart.”
The coolness of his blade connects with the soft skin of my cheek before he runs it down over my jaw, my neck, and between the valley of my breasts.
His dark, hungry eyes stare down at me as bile rises up my throat.
All my years with this shitty life, and it’s when I’m almost free that this happens. I’ve had friends who were raped by scumbags from the age of twelve, but somehow, I managed to escape. I guess fate had bigger ideas for me. It saved me from the drugged-up arseholes from the squats and handed me straight to the devil himself.
The blade circles my navel and I have to fight not to move for fear
