Page 61 of Ricochet
“Kieran.” The idiot holding my hair finally looked at his brother, his voice shaking and the little show was over. God fucking dammit. I was finally enjoying it, and Kieran had to barge in and stop all the fun.
He lifted the knife, and I finally swallowed, my neck cramping from the position he held me in. Cillian stepped back, leaving Kieran on top of me. Oh, I actually kind of liked this position. Him on top of me, me at his mercy… How far would he go to get what he wants?
“And now you two can kiss,” I taunted. A hand landed on my cheek, sending my head flying to the other side. I tasted the blood in my mouth, and slowly turned my head back, clashing with Kieran’s furious eyes. He grabbed my face, digging his thumb into the wound on my cheek. It finally started healing, but with his punishing grip, I just knew it would reopen again.
“You think you’re so smart, so ready to die, huh?” The vein appeared on his forehead, a telltale sign of the level of anger he was currently on. Well, fucking finally. “The knife at your throat would be a merciful way for you. No, baby girl, you don’t deserve mercy. You deserve to be tortured, broken, and fucked for everything you did.”
“You mean all of my deepest desires will come to fruition?”
“You’re a crazy bitch, Ophelia.” He leaned down, our noses touching. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Takes one to know one, baby.” My tongue darted out, licking over the seam of his lips. His eyes darkened, the grip getting stronger, but that hitch in his breathing couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but the desire he still had for me.
I started chuckling at the confused look on his face, the pain flowing through my body, but it was a welcoming distraction.
“Okay, okay,” Tristan spoke up, pulling us from our reverie. “Can we start or are we going to waste another hour?”
“Hand me my knife, Tristan,” the asshole in front of me instructed, still stabbing his thumb into the wound on my cheek. The pain was pulsing through the left side of my face, blood coating my cheek, but I wasn’t going to show him how much it hurt. He didn’t get to have the privilege of knowing me in that way. Not now, not ever again.
I couldn’t move my head, but the shuffling of feet, the silenttap-tap-tapon the concrete floor, told me we were about to start.
Really, really start, and I couldn’t wait to see what exactly they wanted from me. I mean, besides the fact that they wanted to kill me for the crime I never committed. I was curious to see if they actually improved their torture skills.
God knows, they majorly sucked four years ago.
The tearing of fabric, the chilling sensation on my skin, and the tip of a blade touching my body as Kieran slashed through the shirt, leaving me exposed to them.Fucking shit on the rollercoaster, there was no saving this shirt now.
“Nice bra,” he grinned.
“Oh, thank you very much. Tristan bought it for me.” The smile disappeared quicker than it appeared. “Would you like to take it off?”
“Oh, birdy, birdy, birdy.” He patted my head, annoying the shit out of me. “If I wanted to take it off, I wouldn’t be asking for your permission.”
Of course, you wouldn’t, you sick fucking fuck. My throat closed from the emotion coursing through my body. A conversation I had not so long ago played in my mind, and the only thing I wanted in that moment was to cut off his balls, and make scrambled eggs with them.
“Tell me, birdy.”I fucking hated that nickname. “Are you still in contact with daddy dearest?”
Ah, of course. I should’ve known.
“None of your business, darling.” I smiled, even though the only thing I wanted was to smash his skull.
“Are you sure about that?” He dragged the blade of the knife between my breasts, tracing the fabric of my bra. “I think not. I think you should tell us everything you know about Syndicate.”
“And tell me, Kieran, why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because you owe us.” He stood still for a moment, before moving to my left arm, going over the snake tattoo there. The one we got together. “Because you owe me for all the shit you put me through.”
“Oh, I putyouthrough shit?”Calm your fucking titties, Phee. “Well excuse me, but I’ll—”
Before I could finish my sentence, a searing pain shot through my arm.
“Motherfucker!” I screamed, only to be welcomed by the smile on his face. I turned and saw the gash over the tattoo, blood already dropping to the ground. Funnily, pain was a welcome distraction from the murderous thoughts bumping around in my head.
He fucking destroyed my tattoo.
“Fuck you, Kieran!”
“You already did that, and I didn’t hear you complaining when my dick was rearranging your insides.” Somebody snickered behind him, but his focus was solely on me, smearing the blood on my arm. “I will ask you again, are you still in contact with your father?”
