Seven-3
1931 Words
Saint is pushing against his captors, desperate to break free, but they hold him tight, transfixed on the sight of these two disgusting monsters molesting me. I don’t know why, but keeping my eyes locked with Saint’s is the only way I can survive this.
His chartreuse orbs blister in rage as he screams in fury. When Adal rips off my underwear and unzips his pants, Saint closes his eyes for a mere second, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, ангел.” His words are filled with defeat.
I cry out, my body convulsing with fear because how do I brace myself for what’s ahead? Kazimir tears the strap of my dress and forces down one shoulder to expose my bra. He yanks down the cup, baring my breast. Adal latches onto my n****e, biting me hard.
Gringo and the other man holding Saint holler loudly, speaking in a foreign language. The scene of rape and torture seems to get them off. Kazimir suckles my other breast as he forces aside my bra. He still has the gun pressed to my temple, so I remain still, too afraid to move.
Kazimir and Adal are latched onto my breasts while I silently beg to die.
“I have money. You can have it. Just let her go,” Saint says, bargaining for my life. I hold my breath.
Why is he doing this?
The mention of money piques Kazimir’s interest, and he detaches himself from me. With his gun still trained on me, he turns to look at Saint. “You’d give up everything for this w***e? Zoey would be very disappointed to know that. I guess I can see the resemblance between the two.”
“Leave her out of this!” Saint bellows as a hit of adrenaline courses through him. His two captors are barely able to hold him back. “You don’t speak her name!”
Who is Zoey? And why is Saint bargaining for my freedom? He was the one who took it away in the first place.
“Things just got interesting,” Kazimir says. “Maybe keeping you alive is worthwhile.”
The suggestion has Adal soon forgetting his chore, and he violently lets my breast go. I sag in relief, but my legs are still trembling uncontrollably. I cover my nakedness with my arm as best I can.
Adal and Kazimir argue in Russian, but Adal clearly doesn’t agree with Kazimir’s thoughts. He knows that as long as Saint is alive, their lives are in danger. But the prospect of money is far more important to Kazimir.
The conversation soon turns from s*x to money.
“How much?” he asks while Adal shouts, shaking his head, livid.
Saint remains utterly composed. “Twenty million. Give or take.”
My unstable legs buckle.
I remember Saint revealing he wasn’t doing this for money. He wasn’t lying, it appears.
Kazimir whistles, clearly interested. “Being Popov’s number one…hitman sure does have its perks.”
My eyes widen, and a gasp escapes me. Hitman? Saint is a hitman?
He lowers his chin, his blood-soaked hair shielding his face, but the guilt riddling him confirms my question and bile rises. Those hands that touched me, which had me whimpering and begging for a release, have taken away how many lives? They’ve destroyed how many?
I’ve been given small pieces to this puzzle, but I’m still no closer to uncovering what Saint’s end game is. He’s a hitman who works for the man who bought me. He’s not doing it for the money, which makes me think…he’s doing it for Zoey.
“We got a deal?” Saint barks, eyes murderous as he slowly lifts his head.
The air is thick with tension as Kazimir ponders his proposal. “What do you think, Gringo? Want to trade this little slut’s ass for a few million?”
Gringo weighs over his options. I don’t know what he paid for me, but I am certain it’s not even a fraction of what Kazimir is offering. He did say once he was done with me, I was going to the next contender in line, but passing up that sort of money seems too good an offer.
“No p***y is worth that much money. We got a deal.”
Kazimir inhales victoriously while Saint’s jaw is clenched. It seems I’ve been sold yet again. “We have a deal. Aнгел,” he mocks, “will be spared. But if you go back on your word, she’s dead. You both are.”
Why do I feel like Saint just made a deal with the devil?
It’s revealed a moment later.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with her.”
“No.” I whimper, shaking my head.
“Oh, yes,” Gringo counters. “Once we were all through with you, we were going to kill you, but now that we have a deal…”
“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Saint roars, lunging forward, but he’s restrained.
“It’s as good as it gets,” Kazimir states. “We promise not to kill her as long as we get our money. We have about two days until the next port. You get our money, and we let you both go. But in the meantime…”
“Make that b***h drop to her knees,” suggests Gringo, eyes wide with excitement while tiny whimpers slip past my lips.
“Good idea.” Kazimir nods, unbuttoning his pants. “Besides, we got unfinished business.” I know he’s talking about when I knocked him out cold. “Kneel.”
My back is still pressed to the wall, but Kazimir turns me around wildly so my back faces Saint. He’s done this so Saint has a clear view of Kazimir degrading me. He slips the tip of the gun past my quivering lips and into my mouth, sliding it in and out as an innuendo of what he wants me to do to him.
Tears leak from my eyes at this terrifying experience. I have a loaded weapon in my mouth with a sociopath holding the trigger. He adjusts the angle of the barrel, forcing me to drop to my knees.
When I do, he slides the gun farther down my throat, making me gag. “Just giving you a taste of what’s to come.” He laughs while I sob loudly around the metal, frightened he’ll change his mind and blow a hole straight through me.
When he’s done amusing himself, he removes the gun from my mouth. I take in a handful of breaths, breathing past my tears. But those inhalations are in vain because when Kazimir lowers his pants and his disgusting d**k springs up happily, my lungs are robbed of air.
“It’s not gonna suck itself,” he taunts, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to his crotch. I recoil, reaching backward with one arm to pry his hand off me, but when he presses the barrel of the gun into my cheek, I stiffen.
With my body slack, he’s able to coerce me forward and force me to open my mouth. When I do, he attempts to thrust into me roughly. I don’t care if he shoots me; there is no way I am pleasuring him. I turn my cheek, refusing to comply.
“Wanna play rough?” Kazimir teases, the prospect making his d**k twitch.
He holds my hair so tight, tears of pain sting my eyes as I slap his upper thighs, fighting him as he tries to force himself into my mouth. My heart is thrashing wildly, and I think I’m close to passing out. Adrenaline soars through me, but through the chaos, I hear something which anchors me.
“You want to act like a dog, they’ll treat you like one.”
Saint’s hoarse voice cuts through my harsh breathing, and I have no idea why he would say that. Why does he want me to recall the time when he first said it? What happened?
I tried to escape; that’s what happened. It was when I attempted to creep through the bathroom window. I, of course, failed, and as a result, Saint threw me over his shoulder and then tied me to a pole.
How is this supposed to help me?
Think, Willow.
My attempted escape led to Saint tying me up. What happened between?
Kazimir hollers in delight, amused Saint would say that, but he doesn’t understand that Saint has said this to me for a reason. And when Kazimir’s d**k lunges at me, I know what that reason is.
Saint said that to me because I bit him—hard. And now, he wants me to do it again.
“Yes, be a good b***h, and suck it.”
There is no way around this. Kazimir won’t let me go until he gets what he wants, so I close my eyes, swallow down my revulsion, and surrender. The moment I do, he thrusts his d**k into my mouth, and I fight the instinct to recoil.
He groans loudly, encouraging me to take him in deeper, then moans when I do. He still has the gun pressed to my cheek, but the pressure slackens as his guard lowers. He may have only been in my mouth for mere seconds, but it’s mere seconds too long.
The grip on my hair loosens, and when he unthreads his fingers, I brace myself for what I have to do. Kazimir moans in Russian while his friends holler in encouragement, voicing it’s their turn next. The blood whooshes through my veins, and I count down. I need something to prepare me for what I’m about to do.
Three…
Two…
One…
I pull back, ensuring I have a firm grip, and when I do…I bite down. There is silence before an explosion erupts. Kazimir’s shrieks are bloodcurdling, and in some sick, perverse way, they’re music to my ears.
He frantically shoves at my forehead, trying to pry me off, but I only bite down harder, shaking my head from side to side. He called me a b***h, so I intend to act like one. Rage overtakes me, and all I want to do is hurt him just how he did to me.
The moment the gun drops from his hand and tumbles to the floor, I hear an ear-splitting roar. The room then explodes into pandemonium.
I use my ears as I’m still on my knees with a locked jaw, gnawing off this bastard’s d**k. When I taste blood, it only has me biting down harder. Fighting erupts around me, and I can only hope Saint is the one delivering those punishing punches.
Kazimir begins twitching, and I assume he’s on the cusp of passing out from the pain. I should feel remorse, but I don’t. Blood and spittle trickle down my chin.
I jolt violently when I hear gunshots pop around the small room, but when I feel a comforting touch at the back of my neck, I sag in relief. “Aнгел, let him go.”
The thought of letting this bastard go after what he’s done to me feels almost blasphemous, causing me to snarl. But when Saint strokes along my cheek, I eventually comply. My jaw aches as I slowly release him, and Kazimir drops to the floor, twitching as blood spurts from the gaping wound I inflicted at the base of his d**k.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, transfixed as it comes away with blood. But when what I did smashes into me, my stomach roils, and I feel bile rising. I lunge forward on all fours and throw up violently. My body shudders, and my head grows light.
“Go upstairs,” Saint gently orders, arranging my bra and dress as best he can so I’m no longer bare.
The wind still howls around us, rocking the boat from side to side. So if Saint believes being up there in the storm is safer than being down here, I’m afraid to know what he’s about to do.
When I think I can breathe again, I lift my head gradually and peer up at Saint. My bloody warrior is slathered in war paint while his victims lay in broken, lifeless heaps around the room.
- Writer
