Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“You’re no better than your father,” I snap, flouncing onto the bed. I don’t curse, I will not, but I want to hurt him. “You’re a jerk, just like him. I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing, and yet you arrogant, domineering—” I’m so angry, hot, fat tears well in my eyes and I can’t speak anymore.
The way his eyes flash at me, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “I’ll show you no better than my father,” he says, his jaw as hard as granite as he reaches for me, flips me over, and presses me onto my belly. I roll, trying to get away from him, as panic floods me. He’s going to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes.
He didn’t save me from his father. He kept me for himself.
He pushes me into the bed so hard I can barely breathe. I turn my head and gasp for breath. He’s got only one hand on me, but he’s so strong I can’t get away. My bound hands press into my chest. I hear a jingle of metal and a whirr. I flail in confusion and fear when the first searing strike hits me.
I howl in pain when a line of fire ignites across my thigh. “Stop!” I gasp, the pain’s too much, but he doesn’t heed my words. Still holding me down, he lashes me again, this time striking my backside. I gasp on a dry sob, wriggling to try to get away, but the harder I fight, the harder he pushes me. He strikes me again and again, until my world is throbbing pain and I’m choking on my tears.
“No more of your cheek. You’ll watch that tongue of yours.”
“Okay, okay. Stop, please!” I beg. “Please.”
“That’s for raising your hand to me,” he says, before he gives me another wicked lash of pain, followed by two more in rapid succession. I sob.
“That’s for your cheek, and that,” he says, underscoring his lecture with harsh strokes that take my breath away, “Is for good measure.”
“Please,” I sob, my voice cracking.
“Let’s be sure I’ve done a proper job,” he says tightly. “Do you have anything else to say about spying? For whom did you work?”
“No one!” I cry. I don’t tell him I didn’t spy. I can’t disrespect my father like that. He isn’t here anymore to defend himself.
“You’re lying,” he snaps, lashing me again and again, until I feel my whole world is pain. I shake my head, refusing to contradict him but tempted to stop the punishment. He continues in silence, but I won’t speak.
Finally, when I’m convinced I can’t possibly take another moment, he pauses.
“I’ll get the truth from you, lass. Will you behave yourself?” he admonishes, his tone cutting, lacerating my heart. If I thought I’d see any mercy at his hands, I was wrong.
“Yes,” I say, though I’m still not even sure what “behave” means. “Yes. Please, stop hurting me.”
He releases me, and I cry softly into the soft, satiny sheets. Whatever he struck me with clatters to the floor, but I don’t know what it is, and I don’t care.
He isn’t done with me. Rolling me over onto my back, he drags me to my feet by my bound hands and pulls me to his chest. “My father ordered you punished,” he says, his voice angry and fierce, and it might be my imagination, but it seems there’s a note of regret in his tone. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But if I show up with you unrepentant and defiant, he’ll punish you far worse. Is that what you want, Caitlin? A man like my father meting out your discipline?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what his father is capable of, but I can only imagine.
“No,” I whisper, then quickly correct my response, a note of defeat in my voice that makes my shoulders droop. “No, sir.”
His response takes me by surprise. Grasping the back of my head, he pulls me to him and kisses my forehead with a ferocity that belies the tender gesture. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Good girl.”
Chapter Seven
Keenan
It’s with great regret I stop myself from punishing her further. Keeping a watchful eye on the pretty lass with tear-stained cheeks, I thread my belt back in my trousers and watch her. She sits on the bed, her eyes on me warily, taking in every detail.
If I’m to believe what she says, the girl is innocent to the ways of the world and may not even know who The Clan is. All the more reason for the punishment I just administered. She’s ignorant to the ways of organized crime, of criminals like us. And the sooner she sees how much danger she’s in, the better.
We make our own rules. We adhere to a code. We obey the chain of command, and anyone who doesn’t suffers the consequences.