Page 98 of Buried in Blood

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White-hot pain explodes throughout my body—then cold—then nothing.

He holds it there for seconds that stretch into eternity.

I shake beneath the brand as my body goes into shock.This is a nightmare. It has to be. He would never do this to me.It’s real. He’s a monster who cannot be stopped.

When he pulls back, steam curls from my side. I sob against the gag, chest heaving, throat raw.

He doesn’t speak. He just… watches. Watches like he’s looking at a masterpiece.

“I’m not done.”

No.

No, no, no.

His hands go to my thighs. He unstraps one, just enough. Then spreads my legs. Terror crawls up my spine like insects beneath the skin.

My hips buck. He takes his arm and slams my hips back down.

“This one’s special,” he whispers, crouching between my legs.

A new tray. I didn’t see him bring it in. Needles. Ink. Black. Permanent.A tattoo.

He doesn’t warn me.

He just starts.

The pain is sharper now. More precise. It cuts in waves, over and over. My vision swims. The gag tastes like blood. I scream. I thrash. I beg with my eyes—tears slipping sideways, dripping into my hair.

He hums a lullaby I don’t recognize. A melody of ruin. My ruin.

And when he’s finished, he leans over me, sweat on his brow, fingers smeared with ink. His lips graze my ear.

“Now everyone will know.”

He runs a hand along the tattoo he just carved into my inner thigh.

“Mine.” He says as a promise. No—a threat.

The straps remain in place for another hour.

He leaves me there, gagged, branded, bleeding. Alone with the echo of pain.

And a name I didn’t choose, etched where no one will ever be able to look without knowing—what he took.

* * *

The drive back to the main house is silent. No one speaks. No music. No commands.

Just the steady hum of tires rolling over gravel, and the faint smell of antiseptic clinging to my skin like a second violation.

I’m not gagged anymore. But I don’t speak. Not because I can’t.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

Reese doesn’t meet my eyes when he opens the door.

I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t look at me either.