Page 3 of Saving Her

I should be relieved to have survived another night in his bed. But that emotion is never present. Not when I’m dead inside.

No, not dead.

Death would be a blessing. Pure nirvana.

Instead, I’m constantly plagued by life. Every breath is a punishment.

I step into the hall, my anger spiking when I see Robert standing in wait, his back against the wall, his mouth curved in a sickening grin.

“Afternoon.” He licks his lips, his gaze riveted on my bare chest. “Did you have a good night?”

I maneuver around him, determined not to engage.

“It sounded like you were enjoying yourself.” He pushes off the wall and follows after me, his bulky frame hovering close at my back, raising the hair on my neck. “You know your screams make me hard.”

I keep walking, keep eating up the distance to my room.

“How does it feel knowing you’ll soon be mine?” he taunts.

I stop, not just my steps, but my breathing.

“You heard right.” There’s humor in his voice. “Luther agreed to hand you over once he’s finished with you. Isn’t it a relief to find out you’ll be saved from the whorehouse yet again?”

Everything kicks back in—my fractured heartbeats, my panicked speculation, and so much stifling anger. It takes all my strength not to let my emotions show.

Luther is a monster. Always has been. Always will be. But Robert’s violations will be an even deeper layer of hell seeing as though I’ve been an untouchable temptation to him for so long.

I raise my chin. Square my shoulders. “I look forward to our time together.” I don’t wait for a reply. My numb feet carry me along the hall, his laughter haunting me as he leaves in the opposite direction.

When I reach the door to my shared bedroom, the slightest sense of relief warms my chest until quickened footsteps carry from the kitchen.

“Penny, wait.” Tobias, Luther’s son, runs along the hall, his tiny frame barreling toward me.

I force a smile. I force so much fake bravado for this boy that it physically pains me. “Hey, little man. What are you up to this morning?”

He beams up at me, not acknowledging my nudity or the myriad of new bruises and scratches now marking my skin.

The sight before him is normal. The brutality an everyday occurrence. This beautiful little boy, with his sleek black hair and his deep blue eyes, is immune to the horrors surrounding him.

“I finished the writing task you gave me.”

“Already?” I ruffle his hair. “That was fast.”

“I’ve been awake forever. Dad took me out last night to meet my brother and when we returned I couldn’t sleep.”

Unease slithers down my spine. “Your brother?”

“Half-brother,” he corrects. “His name is Cole. He’s big and scary-looking. He’s really old, too. Even older than you. But Dad says we have a lot in common.”

I fake a chuckle, the sound bubbling over the bile rising in my throat.

I knew Luther had an adult son. Some of the women I’ve met in here have told stories about him. The kind of Chinese whispers capable of making my skin crawl. They spoke of his reputation in Oregon. About him being a well-known criminal. Amurderer. And also the apple of his father’s eye.

I’ve just never known him to come to the Greek Islands. Not once in the lifetime I’ve been here.

“I’m notreallyold, Tobias.” But I amreallyworried. Luther’s son has to be the visitor. “And I’m sure your brother isn’t either.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about. I have to show you my assignment. It’s really good.”

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