Page 139 of Injustice and Absolution

Terror seizes my muscles.

Emotion finally roars through me, wild and unrestrained, leaving my head in a dizzy blur.

“Get the hell out of that bed,now.” He pulls me from beneath the comforter.

I gasp as he rips me out of the bed. Frightened tears fall from my cheeks, but I don't fight him. Maggie shouts at him, but he's deaf to her worries and anger. My feet work quickly to keep up with him as he pulls me from the room, down the stairs, and out onto the porch.

"Where are you going?" Maggie shouts again, right on our heels.

"I'm taking her to the shack to deal with this," Royce rounds on her, screaming back. "I gave you time to resolve it, and it hasn't worked. Now it's my turn. Donotfollow us, Maggie, or so help me God."

I don't turn to see if Maggie intends to listen to him, but I no longer hear her footsteps behind me.

He continues pulling me down the steps of the porch and across the gravel driveway. The river rock bites into the bottoms of my feet, but I don't cry out. Somehow ever aware of my feelings, Royce stops, picks me up, and throws me over his shoulder.

He stomps to the driver's side of his truck and opens the door. I yelp as he tosses me onto the seat. Getting in after me, he’s practically sitting on my lap as he closes the door behind him.

My breath hitches as his fiery stare claims mine. Digging his fingers into my skin, he picks me up and pitches me, with ease, over the center console and into the passenger seat. Then he cranks the ignition and peels out.

“You want to play this game?” he mutters softly, a maniacal gleam in his eyes as he barrels down the gravel road toward the shack. I'm not sure if he meant to say it out loud or in his head. Regardless, his calculated voice instills a new fear in me. “Let's fucking play.”

I panic, my back pressed against the passenger side window, panting as both adrenaline and apprehension rush through me. Royce's truck kicks up dust and pebbles the faster we roar toward the small house at the far end of his property. The surrounding trees and landscape whiz by in a blur, too quickly for my stunned stare to take in.

I’ve been to this house a couple times in the past, but not since Maggie’s mom split. Royce is the only one with a key to it. It’s spooky looking, with its chipped paint and half hung shutters. I can't imagine what state the inside is in.

Probably some sort of derelict dungeon. I’ve heard whispers of a building on the property where the Bastards conduct their torture. Is this it?

The truck comes to a sliding halt a few feet away from the house, and I reach for my door handle the second it does. With a new wave of fear, I've broken through the crippling paralysis I faced in the clubhouse. Now I'm ready to run.

“Oh, now you move? I don’t fucking think so...” Royce's voice stops me as if it were his iron fist around my arm again.

I remain frozen, except for my heaving lungs and trembling muscles, as he exits the car. He doesn’t take his wicked eyes off me as he rounds the front of the truck. Opening my door, he grips my bicep again and tugs me out of the cab.

In seconds, the front door is unlocked, and he shoves me inside the house, not bothering to close the door behind us.

There's no one around to hear me scream, but who on this compound would stop him anyway?

“You want to be ordered around? Told what you can do and when?” He pulls me through the small, one-story shack with anger in his tone.

When we reach the bedroom in the rear of the house. I try desperately to pull air in through my lungs.

I knew this wasn’t real. This isn’t him. This isn't the Royce I know. He’s gone, and an evil being has taken over his body.

I’m still in hell.

“You want to be confined in your room all day, unable to move around freely?” He throws me down onto the mattress before pulling a length of rope out from the closet.

Who the fuck just keeps rope lying around in their bedroom? But God only knows what he’s used this house for over the years. I thought I knew him, but now I know I was wrong. I don't know anything about this man in front of me, other than that he has a mean, violent streak when he wants to.

I back up across the bed, but he reaches for my ankles and pulls me back toward him, forcing a scream from my lungs.

With his legs between mine, his towering body shadowing me from the light above, his rampage continues.

“You want someone to tell you what to do every day? Lie there and take it? Be miserable for the rest of your life? Fine. I can inflict more misery on you than you’ve ever experienced before.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

ROYCE

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