Page 97 of Brutal Knight

“At least you can make up for what you did.”

My heart sinks. I don’t know what he has in mind, but my imagination is conjuring up the worst possibilities.

I keep my mouth shut and keep pulling at my wrists. I want to get out more than anything else, but I know my chances are slim.

Still, I have to try.

“I’ve promised you to a new man, as a business deal. As payment.”

My stomach twists, bile rising up my throat. Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away, not wanting to let him see them.

“All this trouble,” he sneers. “You could have married my second. I would have had the Ravens. But you couldn’t even do that right. It’s lucky our arms dealer is interested. He’s been looking for something to use for his…appetite.”

My heart sinks right down to my stomach. I know what he’s trying to say. It makes me feel sick, worse than whatever head wound I have.

I don’t want to know anything else, but my father doesn’t care. Maybe he knows and wants me to suffer.

“I’ve never understood men that keep sex slaves,” he muses. “But it’s none of my business. The money is.”

I swallow hard. Whoever this man is, I know he’ll abuse me worse than Dmitri. I’ll probably never see the light of day once he has me, and I doubt I’ll live long.

“It’s one last bit of usefulness I can get from you,” my father says. “After all the trouble you’ve caused me. You’ll get me a good deal on some weapons.”

I would laugh if I wasn’t so fucking terrified.

I’m being sold as a sex slave just so my father can get a discount on a handgun.

I didn’t know there was a crumb of some feeling left in me for my father. I know logically that he’s a monster, that he never cared about me. But there must have been some crazy part of me that always wished for some kind of drastic event, something that would prove he’d choose me in the end over something or someone else.

That crumb of hope is gone.

Fear floods me, burning through my veins. I can feel hope slipping away and terror taking over. The reality of what’s going to happen is starting to sink in.

I shove the fear and panic down as far as I can. Terror isn’t going to get my anywhere. It’ll lock me in my head and leave me weak and helpless to what’s coming. I can’t do that.

Connor always told me I was stronger.

You’re stronger than this. You can do this. You will do this.

He never had a doubt. Why should I?

If I close my eyes, I can vividly recall those moments after he was shot, the way he lay so still on the ground. He’s the man I love more than anything, the only good part of my life. He’s become everything to me, and he was bleeding at my feet.

All the fear locked in my chest starts to boil over into rage.

How dare my father? How fucking dare he do this to me? He’s nothing. He’s a washed-up crime boss, a man so cruel no one ever wants to work with him. His carelessness drives people away. He’s full of himself, petty, and vile.

He’s nothing.

I won’t bend to nothing.

I won’t be broken by him.

My father doesn’t seem to sense the change in me or the fury building inside me. He bends down, looking smug and confident as he undoes the ties at my wrists and ankles. He clearly expects me to stay slumped in the chair, to be as weak and afraid as I ever was.

What he’s not expecting is for me to leap up from the chair, my fist lashing out toward his face.

It connects hard, the impact vibrating through my arm. I don’t hesitate after I hit him. I just start running.

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