Page 130 of Nash

At the sight of his rage, I relaxed. “If you want to worship me, all you have to do is ask.”

But … he wasn’t laughing.

He took my arm, stifling his anger. I knew he wanted to yank a knot in me, but instead, he quickly escorted me, the building a blur as we rushed through double metal doors and down a long, concrete hallway with dusty light fixtures barely illuminating our path. It smelled of pluff mud, meaty mold, and Nash’s sexy deodorant that really deserves a vacation from this.

Behind us, I heard clicking heels and turned around.

Nadine elegantly stalked down the long hallway, flanked by four guards, with two more dragging their new captive behind her.

“What’s going on?” I muttered to Nash.

“You’re about to see the dark side of being a queen,” Nash replied.

And here we are…

Me, watching Nash interrogate the man who was about to nab me and Nadine, standing beside me, smoking a cigar that smells like berries and vanilla.

“Where is he?” Nash holds a pair of pliers poised over the man’s front tooth.

He’s cuffed to a metal chair, spitting through the blood pouring over his thin lips. “Fuck you. We’ll get her one day. You know it, and you know what we’ve done to the others, we’ll do toher.”

Who? Me? Alena?

It doesn’t matter to Nash. Evilly, he sneers. “Oh, I thinkyou’rethe one about to be fucked.” He turns to Nadine’s guards. “Strip him!”

I stand by the closed, heavy metal door with Nadine. Beige paint peels off the concrete walls of the room. This must be an old underground bunker in the Naval yard. I can smell the river nearby and the bucket the first man, the one who crawled over the wall at Delta’s, is using for his toilet.

It’s foul. It’s disgusting. But god, their first captive isn’t.

He kneels on a soiled mattress, his chiseled cheek and full lips pressed against it. He’s a hot, muscular brute, sculpted and naked and covered in ink. He’s bound in one of the Humiliators I sold to Nash with his ass in the air, his scrotum stretched taut and squeezed between the bars bound to his inked ankles.

But I grin.

Because, as I warned Nash, the man’s dick hangs huge and hard for his humiliating torture.This isn’t his first time submitting.His ass is too groomed. His eyes are too trained. He’s staring at Nadine with murderous lust in his eyes.

No wonder they can’t break him. He loves this.

But the second man? He must be one of Turner’s preppy golf buddies, all money and perversion, no mass and real power. As soon as he realizes what Nash and the men are about to bind him in?

He fights like a cat getting a bath. “No! No! No!” he shrieks, clawing at his captors.

“Oh, so you don’tlikethis?” Nash taunts, mashing the man’s bloody cheek against the concrete. “You don’t like being forced? You don’t like being made my bitch?”

Nadine’s guards cuff the man’s kicking ankles. One of them grabs his balls, jerking them as another traps them between two wooden bars, screwing the bars tightly together.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” The man swears, realizing when he fights, it only tortures his scrotum more.

“Read the room.” Nash laughs. “Who’s the one about to be fucked if he doesn’t tell me where Turner is?”

The man’s penis shrivels, his body sweating, his eyes frantic and scared.

He doesn’t like this. This is his worst nightmare.

Just like the nightmare he’s been to so many children and women. They’ve suffered far worse than the humiliation he’s enduring now.

A little part of me feels sympathy, though I know Nash or any of Nadine’s men would never sexually violate someone.

But the bigger part of me, the future queen in me, wants this intel, too. As a survivor like Nadine … I don’t give a damn. Sacrifice this evil man to save innocent people. We just need a location.

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