Janet's pov
His men grabbed me before I even had the chance to run again. Their hands were like iron clamps digging into my arms, their boots shuffling against the gravel as they hauled me back like I was nothing but a sack of dirt. I kicked, I twisted, I tried to scream, but my voice cracked, thin and useless in the night air.
They bundled me inside the house, straight through the open doors. My bag was left outside on the road like a forgotten piece of trash.
The way they flung me onto the floor, my bones rattled against the tiles. Pain shot up my side, sharp and cold, but I didn’t cry. I bit it back. My lips burned, my chest stung, but I didn’t give him the pleasure.
Chris followed in last, slow, unbothered. His shoes clicked on the floor with each step, echoing, echoing, echoing. H
