Page 77 of Gatsby's Starlet
“I just couldn’t do it,” I said, the words coming out tighter than I wanted them to, but I forced them anyway, because I needed to hear myself say it, even if it didn’t matter.
That got a reaction.
Not big.
Just enough.
His mouth tipped slightly as he turned back to me, his gaze moving over me slow, deliberate, like he was taking inventory of something he already owned.
“You did plenty,” he said after a second. “You fucked him.”
My chest tightened hard at that, panic pressing in again as I shook my head, already stepping back before I could stop myself. “No. That isn’t—that isn’t what was supposed to—”
He moved faster than I expected, his hand catching my arm again, not rough but firm enough to stop me, to hold me in place like the ground itself had shifted under my feet.
“You’re mine,” he said, quieter now, closer, his grip tightening just enough to make the warning clear. “Got it?”
Fear slid cold down my spine, my breath catching as I forced myself to meet his eyes, even when every instinct told me not to.
“Please,” I said, my voice lower now, shaking just enough that I couldn’t hide it. “I was getting close like Drago wanted.”
His expression didn’t change.
Didn’t soften.
“I told you I didn’t give a fuck what Drago wanted. Now your fine ass can give me a taste of what that bastard had.”
The words landed heavy, final in a way that stripped away anything I’d been holding onto, anything that made this feel like something I could still step out of.
I was at a dead end with no way out.
My gaze flicked past him, taking in more of the place, more of the men watching, the way they looked at me like they were already making decisions about me I hadn’t been part of, and mystomach twisted hard at the realization of just how far this had gone.
This wasn’t about passing information or keeping quiet or playing a part.
This was something else.
Something worse.
It hit me, not sudden, not loud, just… there, settling in the way everything had been all night.
Nobody was coming to my rescue. These men had no intention of stepping in and stopping what was about to happen. Kane was going to rape me, and I may even be killed, and they didn’t care.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt, my throat closing as I looked down for half a second before I could stop myself, because Gatsby was going to go to my place, he was going to knock, he was going to call, and I wasn’t going to answer.
He was going to think—
I sucked in a breath that didn’t go all the way through, my hands curling into themselves as I fought to keep it together, because there wasn’t room for that right now, not here, not in front of them, even if it was the only thing that mattered.
There was still hope that Gatsby would break into my house and find the note.
Something in my chest broke a little at that, quiet but deep, the kind that didn’t make noise but didn’t go away either, and I pressed it down hard, forcing my expression to stay neutral, to stay calm, because falling apart here wasn’t an option.
Kane was still watching me.
Waiting.
“C’mon,” he said after a second, his grip loosening just enough to turn into a pull instead, guiding me forward toward one of the larger buildings without giving me the chance to resist.
