His To Break

PROLOGUE BLAIR ASHFORD ✥ My hands shake uncontrollably as I raise the sharp knife to the back of my neck. It's now or never. I press the cool metal to my skin and whimper at the sensation, my long red hair swept to one side. I can barely look at myself in the mirror as I hunch over the bathroom sink. That's when I clamp my jaw together and shake my head. I calm down my breathing and I ignore the thumping in my chest, my heart almost having a seizure. Just f*****g do it! I scream to myself in my head. Just f*****g do it! The blade presses into my skin and I suck in a shudder. I screw my eyes shut as I roll the metal over my skin, pursing my lips as I hum at the pain. Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream. If I draw attention to myself, I'll never make it out of here today. Jace might not be here but his workers are. I don't want them getting suspicious. Warm blood trickles down the curve of my neck, I can see it out of the corner of my eye in the reflection but I still refuse to look. It makes my stomach clench at the feeling of it staining my skin, the back of my neck throbs as I place down the knife. I feel my lips tremble as I raise my hand and push my index finger inside the wound, groaning silently at the waves of discomfort that begin to swarm me. Bile rises in my throat as I dig around in my flesh, trying to find the tiny microchip. My eyes tighten even more as I grit my teeth and grunt, the feeling of my fingers pressing into my sensitive and sore flesh. That's when more blood pours down my back, over my shoulders, soaking my t-shirt. As I continue to search for the chip, my fingernail brushes something hard and I press in deeper to grab it. I almost scream at the pain that rocks through me, having moved the skin and allowed it to rip. With the chip pinched between my finger nails I pull it out and stare at it, no bigger than a grain of rice. My entire body shakes as I stare at it, tears now gathering in my eyes. I plant it in my bedroom, underneath my pillow. I literally have minutes before I need to go. Before Jace gets home. When I dart to the bathroom, I scrub my body of the blood as best as I can and press a cotton shirt to the back of my neck to stop myself from bleeding everywhere. The sight of blood will draw the attention I do not need. I need to get the f**k out of here. My heart races in my chest like a winning horse. I grab my bag and coat, covering myself up and I head out of the front door. I try my hardest not to let any fear show on my face, even my legs as they begin to tremble. As soon as I make it out of the house and down the road, I run. I f*****g sprint as fast as I possibly can. Blood roars in my mouth, in my chest, in my ears. My breathing becomes erratic but I can't stop, not when I'm so close to freedom. I make it to the train station. I've been planning this getaway for weeks. Jump on a train to the furthest destination and when I get there, I'll work out the rest. I know he'll keep coming after me but if I move away as far as I can, hopefully he'll give up. Unlikely after he waited two years for my witness protection to end. But I have to give it a shot. This isn't living. I'm practically his slave and I refuse to do it for the next eight years. It'll destroy every ounce of me before I make it out, I'll be a shell of a person with an empty soul. I'd rather be dead. I'd rather kill myself a thousand times over than be forced to work for this man. As I approach the front desk to buy a ticket, I stole some money from one of Jace's workers wallets. I'm sure he didn't even know it was missing. I notice when people glance at me, giving me funny looks. I didn't manage to wash the blood off in time and no doubt the wound is still oozing. I'll have to clean myself up in the toilet on the train. There is nothing I can do about it now. "How can I help?" The elderly man asks. I clear my throat. "Can I get a single ticket to..." My hands begin to tremble. "To..." His brows crease in my direction. "Ma'am, are you okay?" My throat clenches and I attempt to swallow. I know my body is becoming weak from the blood loss but I'll be okay, I didn't cut it too deep, only enough to feel under the skin. I'll be fine.I'll be fine. "Sorry," I rasp. "To..." A rough hand grabs my wrist and I gasp. I gulp when I look up into the eyes of someone I really didn't want to see. Fear takes over every part of my body and suddenly I can't breathe. "A bit lost, are we?" Tristan, Jace's second in command, c***s an eyebrow with a smug grin. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. "No, I–" "Shut it," he growls. "You can do all your explaining to him when you get back to your home, hmm? Your only home." My head shakes. "No, please–" He yanks me away before the elderly man can say anything, he tugs me through the station. "You think I wasn't going to follow you when you left?" He snarls in my ear, feeling his hot breath invade my face. "I saw a nice little blood stain on the door and that made me think... what is she up to?" "I was just-" I pant. Tristan flares his nostrils. "You were just, what? Trying to leave? Because if I'm not mistaken, you still owe Jace eight years. He told you what would happen if you tried to escape again, girl, you've f****d up. Big time." A whimper passes my lips. The last time I tried to escape... my stomach lurches. I don't even want to think about it. "Tristan, please." I beg. He snorts in my direction as he brings me to his car. "No point pleading with me, you've made your bed. Now you can f*****g lie in it." I've never felt this level of fear. I can hardly breathe. I don't even want to be alive anymore. Tristan tugs me into the house where I am met with Jace who seems to be waiting for me in the kitchen. His six foot stature intimidates me immediately, that dark tousled hair and those violent green eyes. Multiple scars slashed across his face only make him look more vicious–but he is, he's the devil. He cracks his knuckles and I tell myself not to cry, not when I'm staring at him through cautious eyes. "Ah, you're home." He says but his tone isn't inviting. It's cold and sinister. "Take off your coat." I'm trembling, physically trembling. "Now!" He barks and I flinch. I peel off my coat and Tristan takes it from me along with my bag. Jace walks towards me and breathes through his nose heavily, he studies me with that poisonous gaze. I blink once and a tear rolls down my cheek. "Now take off your trousers and come stand here." My eyes remain glued to his. I am fearful I'm about to throw up. "Don't make me ask you again," he says through gritted teeth. I raise my shaky hands and hook them into the waistband of my flared trousers and push them down my legs and sweep them to my side. I cup my hands together in front of me and lower my gaze. "Perfect," he says with a slimy tone. He walks around the kitchen counter and takes out six different wine glasses. I watch as he places them down and hums, inspecting one. "These are my favourites," he says darkly. I'm quivering down to my toes, my thighs raising in goosebumps from the slight chill of the room. "But I'm going to put them to better use," he grumbles before looping around the counter and standing directly in front of me. Jace holds out one of the glasses and it drops to the white shiny floor, I flinch at the sound of it smashing into tiny pieces. But he doesn't stop there, he smashes the five others directly in front of me and I can't stop crying. Sobbing. Silently begging someone to help me. But no one will. He sucks down a breath and extends his neck, I catch a glimpse of the glass covered floor. I feel my lungs begin to hyperventilate, my cheeks stained with tears that make me feel ashamed. "Now crawl to me." "Please, don't." "Crawl. To. Me." I burst into tearful hysterics, shaking my head. "Don't make me do this," I sob. "Please don't make me do this." Jace's jaw ticks. "You don't want me to come over there. So, do as I say, Blair." My lips tremble pathetically. "Please, I don't want to do this." "Then you should have thought about that before you decided to try and leave. I told you your actions will have consequences, you're an adult. You have to deal with them." He grinds out and he pins me with those eyes in a deathly stare. "Like anyone else who works for me." That's when my knees begin to wobble. If I don't, he could hurt me in a thousand different ways. I lower to the floor and press my palms into the cool floor before the first shard of glass. I glance up at him, praying he tells me it's a joke. But nothing is ever a joke with him. "Once you do it, it'll be over, Blair. It's simple." I'm choking on my own cries, I screw my eyes shut and reluctantly take the first step with shuddering hands and knees. I press my fists to the ground and move forward very slowly. "And if you avoid the glass, I'll make you do it again. Don't try to outsmart me." My throat burns and I ache all over, my body fighting what I'm about to do. But I have no other choice. I step forward again, glass piercing my knuckles as I yell out in pain. It pierces my skin and I wobble, blood seeping out instantly. "That's it," he barks. "Keep going." Another step and another. The sounds of my agonising screams filter through the kitchen, something straight out of a horror film. I barely recognise my own voice. It goes on forever and ever, the pain only increasing with every new piece that slices through my skin, leaving a trail of crimson blood behind me.