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them around the thick wood of the chair arms, grounding myself.

“Hello, David.” I lifted my chin, ignoring the fear, pushing away the memories. “I can’t say it’s nice to see you.”

For a moment he looked uncertain, surprised. Perhaps he’d expected me to fall at his feet. Perhaps he’d expected me to beg. His face hardened.

“You’ve grown a backbone while you’ve been gone. Don’t worry. We’ll rid you of that.”

“You can try.” A little frisson of something like pride burned in my stomach.

He held out a hand. The third man in the room stepped forward, handing him a thick leather whip.

Oh God.

David pulled the plaits through his fingers. “You remember this, don’t you Abishag?”

I swallowed. “My friends will–”

“Shut up!” He cracked the whip, landing the first blow to my knee. My jeans absorbed most of the impact, the skin underneath burning.

Stay strong.

Blinking back stinging tears, I glared at him. “Must make you feel good to hurt a woman,” I taunted. “But then hurting women and children was always your kink, right, David?”

The next cut landed on the sleeve of my hoodie, raking heat across my forearm.

“Whore! Jezebel!” David screamed, his face now mottled as he stalked around my chair, kicking the back, knocking punches to my ears. “Eve! Temptress!”

The whip cracked down on my other arm, slashing the fabric and leaving a bloody trail.

“You perverse, rebellious woman! Respect thy husband! Submit! A disgraceful wife is nothing but decay in her husband’s bones!” He spat on me, the wet landing in the centre of my chest. “I sanctify your body through our marriage! You are pure from your sins because of my holiness. Accept your punishment, whore. As your husband, I will make you respect me.”

David quoted bible verses, raining hellfire down upon my head as he laid blow after blow on me, painting my body in blood, bruises, and fury.

“What God has brought together let no man–”

“Enough.” The voice was quiet, determined, final.

David fell silent, stepping back. My head hung limp, drops of blood falling from my nose to pool in the fabric of my jeans. Gentle hands lifted my head, turning me this way and that. I forced one eye open, barely making out the familiar features.

“Oh, David.” Edward shook his head. “I leave you to discipline your wife, and this is what you do? Must I remind you of our agreement?”

David coughed. “She can type. I left her hands.”

Edward dropped my head, his fingers running over my hands, lifting and checking each finger.

“Yes,” he said, standing. “But she is hardly able to perform like this.”

“She’ll do it.” David’s heavy hand settled on my shoulder, squeezing. I gasped as pain exploded from the dislocated joint. “She knows the consequences.”

I watched, swallowing against the nausea, as feet shuffled in front of me. Finally, Edward spoke.

“Take her to the women. Have them clean her up and what-not. When she’s decent, bring her to me.” He turned to leave.

“But what about the–” David protested.

“Patience, brother. God’s work comes first.” I heard the door open. “Come, David. We have much to decide.”

I listened to them walk out, their steps echoing down the hall outside. Hands tugged at the ropes keeping me strapped to the chair. In moments, I was free but unable to move. Hands gently pulled me forward and slipped under my knees and behind my back, cradling me like a child.

“I got her. Go tell the women.” Abel’s chest vibrated under my ear as he held me close. The other man in the room left. I fought unconsciousness, the world spinning, the nausea rolling as he shifted me higher, his head dipping down until his lips were pressed against my ear.

“You should have run.” His voice was barely a whisper, his tone apologetic. “You’d run every other time.” He below out a breath, hitching me higher. “When you stayed… They gave me no choice. You’d understand if you knew her.” His voice broke.

Knew who? Who is her?

“Call Luc,” I whispered, barely able to utter the words through the swelling. “Please.”

He pulled me closer. “I can’t.”

“Please…” I gave in to the dark.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Luc

The registration check on the vehicle turned up more questions. The only person able to answer them sat in the interrogation room at the local police station while Annabelle and her partner drilled him with questions.

Dressed in a smart suit, Eric Flowers COO of West Investments, sat handcuffed to the desk. He stared at his clasped hands as Annabelle rounded the table.

“Come on, Eric,” she cajoled. “The evidence is all there. We know you planted the software. We know you rented the two houses, and we know you bought the car. You’re looking at embezzlement, kidnapping, torture, and that’s just today.” She lent down, tapping a hand against the sterile table. “Your choice.”

“I want my lawyer.”

Annabelle tsked. “Your appointed lawyer is just there.” She nodded at the man in the corner of the room.

“My lawyer. Not some underling.”

“Your lawyer is in Europe on three weeks’ holiday.”

Eric’s fingers flexed. “I’m not talking until I get my lawyer.”

The man in the corner coughed. “Perhaps we could have a moment alone?” Annabelle and the officer left the room. Paxton bumped my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Annabelle will break him.”

I gritted my teeth, feeling the muscle in my jaw jump. If I had three minutes alone he’d be squealing like a pig.

The sound was muted as we watched through the double-sided glass. The lawyer gestured animatedly as Eric shook his head. Finally, the lawyer stood and tapped on the door. It opened, Annabelle and her partner returning. The volume switched back on.

“You ready to talk?”

“We want a deal,” the lawyer said, laying a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “He talks in exchange for protection and a pardon.”

Annabelle crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Protection, a new identity, but he’s serving time. We could look at a reduced sentence, but Mr Flowers has too many crosses against his name.”

The lawyer sat down, leaning over to whisper in Eric’s ear. After a moment Eric nodded.

The lawyer held

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