Page 7 of Killian's Vengeance

I heard him opening the cabinet of the wardrobe and removing god knew what. Nothing good, I imagined.

He gathered my hair and shoved it over my shoulder. I jumped as I felt something tickling my back, like the end of a belt. I craned my head around and saw he held up some kind of whip. It didn’t take me too long to put the pieces together, sweat breaking out across my skin as image after image of my ragged, bleeding flesh paraded through my mind.

He was going to whip me until I gave him the information he wanted.

“You have thirty seconds to tell me what I want to know, or I start with this.”

There was absolutely no mercy in his expression. It was a good thing I’d gone to the bathroom earlier because if I hadn’t, I was certain I would be standing in a puddle of my own urine right now. That was how scared I was.

I stared at him again, searching for any signs of pity or reluctance to use that whip, but found nothing but complete determination and seething anger.

I needed to end this charade. I had to tell him I didn’t know anything.

He raised his hand, as I blew my thirty seconds lamenting my fear and deciding to come clean.

“Wait, I—” I said, my words ending in a scream as the whip lashed against my skin.

Agony, hot and overwhelming bloomed in the path of the lash, leaving a trail of fire lacing from my upper back to the top of my right shoulder. Tears instantly sprang into my eyes as my body tried to process the searing pain that was tearing through every nerve in my body. My knees buckled, leaving me to hang by my wrists.

“You have thirty more seconds.” His voice was hard, as if he was utterly unmoved by my obvious agony. Was he some kind of fucking psychopath?

I tried to formulate the words to say I wasn’t Lily, but all I could do was pant and try to process the throbbing pain soaring through my system, my ears only registering white noise. It wasn’t until I felt the bite of the whip once again land against my skin, centimeters from the previous strike, did I realize that, once again, my time was up.

“No! Stop!” I screamed.

“You have information for me?” His voice sounded gritty and rough, his arm rising in preparation to strike again.

I turned to look at him, wiping my sweaty forehead against my upper arm. I had to stop this, I had to make him understand I wasn’t Lily. I couldn’t take any more lashes. “Look, I don’t know anything. I’m not?—”

His lips tightened, and before I could finish the whip landed again. The leather tail slapped against the skin of my upper back, this time wrapping around my right side toward my breast. It felt like a blaze of fire against my skin. I was breathing heavily, panting, trying to orient myself, but unable to think under the pounding waves of hurt crashing over me.

“I’m not Lily. I’m not Lily, I swear,” I babbled out quickly, getting right to the point in a desperate attempt to stave off the next strike of the whip. For a moment, I heard nothing and imagined he was putting his whip down, planning to walk to me and release me from the restraints, perhaps even issue me an apology.

Instead, when I glanced over at him, I saw his arm rise.

“No, please,” I begged. My whole body tensed as I braced myself for the feel of the whip. Except there was no way to prepare for that feeling. This time it struck along my lower back and wrapped around my waist, leaving a visible welt above my front hip. I was getting so much pain input, my brain couldn’t sort it all out. As I sagged in the restraints, my thoughts scattered like dandelion spores. How did I get him to believe me? What was I going to do? Was I bleeding? Was he going to kill me?

I had to try again. “I swear to you, I’m not Lily. You have to believe me,” I rasped out, my throat bone dry.

When I turned my head, I saw his bleary features through the prism of my tears, his expression suddenly contorting to one of fury. He walked up behind me and wrapped his hand around my throat, leaning his mouth close to my ear. His t-shirt rubbed against the flayed skin of my back causing me to gasp in pain. “You think this is a fucking joke? You think I’m a fucking idiot? I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth other than the name of your fucking boyfriend, you understand?”

“B-b-but…I’m not?—”

His hand covered my mouth. “No more!” he boomed. “I think you need some time to think about what’s in store for you if you don’t start cooperating.”

He quickly unbuckled my wrists, his strong arm wrapping around my waist as he practically threw me back on the bed face down. Just as quickly he had me once again shackled by my wrists and ankles. I was grateful for the position, lying face down, considering my topless state and the throbbing marks on my back.

“I think you need some time to process your situation. I won’t be so lenient next time I return.”

Lenient? Good Lord, I needed to figure out a way to make this man understand or I would be dead by tomorrow.

Chapter 5

Killian

Islammed out of the room, frustration and anger emanating from me like a poorly tuned radio station, sending out waves of dissonance in every direction.

I stomped down the hallway of the club and threw open the door to the office, needing a breather from her. I thought she would give in faster than this. From our intel, Lily was spoiled and selfish, used to being pampered and overindulged. She was a con-woman and a hustler and, usually, they had no loyalty to anyone but themselves.

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