Page 61 of Iron Heart

“Get off me, you bastard!”I scream and writhe in my binds, but it only seems to spur him on.He becomes more aggressive, more impatient.

Hands fall to my waist and slide down my front.

No.

Please, someone.

Anyone?

I scream again, but no one is coming.I start to cry as he begins to assault me with his fingers.

Nausea claws at my throat, but I push it down.Then, that moment of clarity hits, and I realize I’m not dead yet.I can still fight.

With a surge of adrenaline, I manage to kick out of my bound ankle, my foot connecting with something solid.I hear him jerk back, followed by laughter from the others in the room.Then the air moves, pain explodes across my cheek as a hand strikes me, and I fall to the floor.My head hits the cold floor, and a shiver runs over me.

The room spins, and my mind races.I’m trapped, but I’m not defeated.I have to find a way out.I have to escape this nightmare.

The fear is stronger than ever, but now it’s joined by anger, determination, and a will not to die today.Not at twenty-eight years old.Not with the world at my feet.

A phone rings just as I’m being pushed back upright.Its shrill tone, a dagger in my ears.A line of blood streaks my temple and runs down my cheek.I’m hurt, but it doesn’t register.

I think I hear an American accent through the phone, then the shouting of my captors.Panic erupts.They are afraid, and their fear feeds my own, twisting it into something new.Hope?No, not hope.Not yet.Just a tiny spark of something less dark, less all-consuming.

Then, chaos.Shouting, scuffling, doors slamming, my senses try and keep up with it all.I’m adrift in a sea of confusion.What’s happening?

My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else.They’re afraid.They’ve lost control.Could this be my chance?

I work at my bindings, my fingers clumsy and slow, but desperation drives me forward.

They’ve left.

The room is silent now, heavy with uncertainty.

I’m alone, bound but not broken.

“Victoria?”his voice snaps me back to the now.

I swallow down the sand in my throat.“After I was abducted, I woke up in an old, musty warehouse, my hands tied behind me.I was parched, sore, and bruised.My face felt swollen, as if I’d been hit, though I couldn’t recall the moment it happened.”Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I continue, “I heard foreign voices.There were two of them, taunting me.”I close my eyes and inhale sharply.“One was behind me while the other slid his hand down my front and touched me inappropriately.”My voice wavers, and tears fill my eyes as the memories resurface.

Kingsley’s expression hardens, and I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching.“What?He touched you?”

Shaking my head, I confess, “I felt so ashamed.”

“Victoria, this isn’t your fault,” he says emphatically.“Why didn’t you include the assault in your police report?”

“I was too embarrassed,” I admit.“Vincent and Julius were with me, and I feared what they might do if they found out.”

He looks at me dumbfounded.“You were trying to protect them, even after what you’d been through?Jesus Christ, do you know how incredibly strong you are, Victoria?You need to see that in yourself.”

I can see something change in Kingsley’s eyes—like a mixture of awe and deep respect, and maybe, just maybe, I think it too.He pulls me closer, and I tuck my head under his chin, feeling enveloped by his warmth.

The tension starts to drift away, replaced by a sense of safety and peace I’ve only ever felt in his arms.

“You need some rest,” he says softly.“Sleep, beautiful.”My eyes grow heavy, but before they completely shut, I feel his hand gently stroking my hair, and he pulls me close.

“I’m proud of you, Victoria.You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he says, his voice low but filled with emotion.

I let out a sleepy sigh, my guard down, my mind foggy with the onset of sleep.“Don’t leave me, Kingsley…” I murmur.

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