by Kim Faulks
He was the one in control, not her. He ground his body against her. “I'll take you into that room all right, and once you go in there, you won’t ever come out!”
“No!” Slade lunged. Digger used both huge fists to pummel him, one after the other in a faster flurry than Colton would’ve believed possible from a man so large. Digger screamed, curling his fists into Slade’s leather jacket, heaving the biker over his head in one clean jerk. Slade balanced on the huge man’s fists for one second before Digger slammed his body to the ground. Slade moved slowly, rolling to the left before he climbed unsteadily to his feet, creating distance between them. Colton knew the fight would come down to speed and skill.
Digger was built and trained like a machine. He moved with purpose. Slade leapt towards him, but Digger was ready. He leaned back, snapping his right leg up to connect under Slade's jaw. The biker flipped into the air, his back smashing the floor. The poor bastard was too in love or too stupid to know when he was beaten. He crawled toward the wall, grasping the worn boards in an attempt to drag himself upright. Digger was on top of him before he made it to his knees. He smashed his fists into Slade’s shoulders, his kidneys, his neck, his face, anything he could connect with, until Slade fell against the wall and stopped moving.
“No. Stop this. Please... Slade!” Morgan screamed and thrashed in Colton’s hands.
This moment had started and there was no going back. Colton jerked her upright as she started to fall, forcing her to look at the carnage. “Get up. Open your eyes and see what happens when you become weak.”
Morgan sobbed. Her body slumped to the ground and he let her go. She’d cause no more problems. She was broken.
Colton kneeled over her, taking in the image over her lying underneath him. He drove his hand in between her thighs, forcing them apart, reveling in her pain and torment when she thrashed and cried.
Slade shoved off the floor and charged Digger with brute strength. He jabbed Digger with punches that would've bought down any man. But Digger wasn’t any man. He was a soldier and he fought like one. Slade roared and threw his arms around the huge man, lifting Digger off his feet with a ferocity that stunned Colton. When the soldier came down, he bought his elbow crashing down on Slade's back. The crack was audible. Colton heard Morgan cry out as Slade crumbled to the ground and this time, he didn't move.
“Slade, get up! Get up, goddamn you!” Morgan screamed, pounding her fists into the floor.
Colton smiled. Was this it? He’d hoped the biker would’ve fought harder. He glanced at the victor. Digger lifted his gaze to meet Colton's. The soldier's chest heaved with exertion. His arm hung limp at his side. He might’ve ended the biker, but he'd badly injured himself in the process. That’s okay, Colton didn't need him for much longer anyway.
Movement caught Colton's attention. He turned to watch Slade push up from the floor. The biker slipped and shook, forcing his body to stand. His face was bloody. His eye was split and staring to swell. He stared at Morgan as she sobbed. Colton snarled and looked away, disgusted. He wanted this to be over. Nothing for him was ever easy.
He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Morgan's hair, wrenching the long strands until her kicking legs found purchase on the dirty floor. She staggered to her feet, howling. He stared at her, but his cold words were directed to Digger. “Finish it.”
Colton dragged Morgan toward the doorway. He’d been tested by this room, by these people, and by his own mind. In the end, he’d won. He was victorious. Now it was time to claim his prize. Morgan screamed and gripped the doorframe, unyielding even with pain, as he yanked her hair again and again.
He ground his teeth. His pulse sped and he dug his fingers into the inside of her biceps until she weakened. He'd had enough of her games.
Hatred radiated from her eyes, even though he could feel the bones grind inside her arm. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” She held on and cried through the pain, wrapping her legs around the frame. “You're going to have to kill me if you want to take me in there.”
“I can make that an option.” He snarled.
Her whimpers died. She glanced back into the room and to where Slade lay. Colton could hear the thump and then silence. Morgan dropped her gaze for a second and when she lifted them to meet his, they were filled with tears. “Do it. I'd rather die than go in there with you.”
He clenched his fist and struck her face. Her jaw crunched and her head impacted with the doorway. While she was stunned, he tore her from her hold. Like a two-year-old, she screamed and kicked, but he was able to overcome her easily enough. His muscles strained as he yanked and eventually, her legs came away. The room spun as Colton dragged her inside and fell on top of her, exhausted.
Echoes of the past were reflected in his movements. He blinked and saw Jade underneath him, and then in the next moment, she was Morgan. Both cried and screamed for him to stop, but he was far beyond their cries—he was in his own private world. He used his thighs to force her legs apart. He grabbed her wrists and pushed them along the floor until they stretched above her head.
“I've thought about this moment since the first time I saw you. At times, it was all I thought of.”
“That's because you're a sick fuck with a mommy complex.” Morgan spat. The illusion of her fear wavered and Jade laughed at him.
Jade’s voice taunted him. “What? She never breastfed you? Never held you? That's because she saw what you really were and she wanted nothing to do with you!”
He reared back and punched Morgan in the stomach. “Shut up!”
Morgan jerked and bent forward. Low moans reverberated in her throat and she paled. Maybe now she'll think twice before mouthing off. He brushed her hair from her shoulder, exposing the line of her neck. He let his hand trail lower. He crested her breast with languid movements, circling her nipple. Her body didn’t react. There was no puckering of her nipple, no widening of her eyes—there was nothing. He squeezed her breast harder, forcing her to react and if it wasn’t desire, then it was pain.
Desire flooded him. Power swept him away—the feel of a life held in the palm of his hands. He gripped her throat, tightening until her face reddened. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. How quick she could change, one minute ready to take on the world, and the next, she waited for the end. He relaxed his grip and her eyes flew open, but they weren't Morgan's eyes—they were his mother's. “All those women, Colton. Why?”
He stared at her, unable to find his voice. He shook his head until he’d swear his brain rattled inside his skull.
“Even now, at the end of it all, can you not face your secrets?” His mother’s body took Morgan’s place underneath him. Now his palm covered her breast. “Can you not ask forgiveness?”
He yanked his hand off the soft flesh and a dark cloud filled him. There was something not right here. He snarled. “Fucking bitch! You think you can trick me? You think I won't hurt you?”
This was just another of Morgan's games. She kept prodding him, inciting his anger in the hopes he’d become enraged and end her. She’d picked the wrong man to mess with. Colton clenched his fist around her throat and other tore her shirt with the other, yanking her bra until the fabric parted. He squeezed while he stared down at her pale skin, her breasts firm and soft. She kicked and hit him, struggling for air. But he was past caring about her feeble blows. He dropped his head, pushing his face in the hollow between her soft mounds. He drew the scent of her deep, a mixture of musk and sweetness.
“Do you smell him on me?”
Colton yanked his head up. Morgan smiled, her dark eyes sparkling. “Do you smell him all over me? Because, that's where he's been, you piece of shit.”
He didn't see the blow coming until it was too late. Morgan snapped her head forward, hitting his face with her forehead. The crunch of bones preceded blinding pain. Blood shot out of his nose, spattering her throat and breasts. He let her go and fell backward, grabbing his face. Colton screamed.
Through his tears, he saw the m
onster rise in front of him. “I told you what would happen if you hurt her.” The voice echoed.
Colton held his face and rolled off the bitch. Blood filled his hands and pain lashed his head in thunderous claps. The monster neared, and through the haze of his tears, Colton saw it wasn't the monster at all. Slade. The freight train bearing down on him was Slade.
Colton's voice came out as a whimpering mess. “How?”
A vice gripped him by the throat and yanked him into the air. He tried to fight, but it was useless, everything blurred. He kicked and thrashed anyway, but it wasn't Slade he fought—it was the dream. Colton stood in front of a row of women, some younger, some older, but he recognized each face.
He kicked and tried to turn around, but there was no going back. There was nothing to go back to. He cried out and tried to move away. “No.”
The dead stood there, silently waiting. Jade stood at the end of a long line. She looked just like she had when he first saw her in the bar. Her golden dress shimmered. Her long blond hair fell around her shoulders.
Maybe she’ll understand, maybe she can help me? He tried to smile and wave at her, but he couldn't move. Blood seeped from his nose to dribble over his lips. He wiped the trickle away, keeping his gaze firmly on Jade, until he felt the ground shift.
He jumped sideways as the ground shook. The floor cracked and broke apart underneath him.
Jesus... what’s that?
Red-hot fire licked from the crack in the floor. The flame lashed his leg and he screamed as searing pain spread from his ankle. He howled and crumpled to the ground, trying to cradle the seared flesh. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, though his retinas burned from staring into the fiery abyss as the crack widened. He couldn't move. The opening compelled his attention, even as the stench made him long to hide his face.
Screams erupted from the pit, and the gust of blistering air drove those demented shrieks into his ribs. The sounds caught there, in his bones, setting up a vibration that made his heart stagger and stutter and he realized this was his fate. He was going to burn in Hell. The floor trembled, opening wider.
“Wait....” He lifted his gaze to the row of women who stared at him silently. The floor moved, the crevice widening like a hungry mouth. Colton shuddered. He felt his footing slip. “I'm sorry?”
But it was too little, too late. His footing slipped and he fell head-first into the fiery pit. And as he descended into Hell, Colton finally understood what the room had been all along.
His last chance for redemption.
RACHEL CLUTCHED HER DAUGHTER CLOSE as the room fell silent. She'd done all she could when the biker fought back. Slade attacked Digger when his back was turned, throwing the soldier to the ground.
The biker used his fingers like weapons, stabbing... stabbing… stabbing. She’d never seen anything so brutal. The soldier screamed as though the monster had finally come for him and she screamed along with him. Rachel turned away when the biker cradled Digger’s head in the crook of his arm. She was no longer interested in the antics of men. She had enough to worry about. She had her girl.
She stumbled to where her beautiful daughter sat with Carmen. She’d been playing quietly with Dee for a while, until the older woman started screaming, which was rude. But then, what did Rachel expect from blasphemers and heretics?
Bethany was such a good girl. Rachel's memories whipped around in her head like a tornado and they all ended here in this horrible room. But she was so thankful, praise Jesus, for giving her daughter back. For a while, Rachel thought she'd lost any chance to hold or touch her child again. She smoothed Bethany's curls around her small shoulders. Her daughter glanced at Carmen and then to Rachel. Carmen wasn't talking anymore. Rachel's scanned the woman’s chest. The rolls of fat went on forever—red was not this woman's color.
“Looks like it's just you and me now, baby girl.” She took comfort in her child's embrace and watched the doorway.
The screaming inside the room had finally stopped, leaving only silence. Maybe they were all dead in there? That would be just fine. She'd wait for the monster to come and then she’d fight it alone. There was no way that beast would lay a hand on her girl… no way. Rachel shivered and pulled her child closer.
She felt something stab her in the side. Rachel flinched and stared at her stomach. Blood seeped through her top, sticking the fabric to her skin. She shoved her daughter away. “Bethany, are you hurt, baby? Tell Mommy. Are you okay?”
Her daughter grinned and held up her bloody fingers. “I'm fine, mommy. Look, your blood.”
Rachel's chest tightened and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She held her daughter tight. A fist of pain gripped her stomach. “I don't want to die here. I don't want to leave you.”
Her little voice wormed its way into her heart, warming her a little. “You don't get it do you? How many chances do you need? You could’ve gone on to Him, you could’ve found peace. But instead, you'll come with me, and I'm gonna take you down... down... down, but we'll be together forever.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean, I could’ve found peace?”
Her daughter looked at the walls and studied the beam of white light. “He waits for you, you know? He’s always waiting... He never gives up hope.”
Rachel licked her dry lips. She was so thirsty. “Do you promise? You won't leave me if I die?”
Her daughter pushed against her stomach and pain flared once more. “Silly, Mommy. You can't die….” Her daughter leaned in to whisper and her words slid like ice along Rachel’s skin. “Because you're already dead.”
“I... I.” Rachel tried to speak, but there were no words. The room around her changed and she was wrenched from the arms of her daughter to the grandeur of her childhood home once again.
“No, Mother. Leave me alone. I don't want to do it anymore.”
Rachel's grip slipped and she tightened automatically. She scowled at her daughter and hard, indignant eyes glared back. When Rachel looked at her, all she saw was him. “You'll do what you're told, Bethany. Now, into your grandfather's study. He’s waiting for you.”
Her daughter shook her head so hard, her blond curls bounced. She’d grown so fast, one minute Rachel held her to her breast, and now twelve years later, she was making her own decisions, wanting to be Miss Independent.
Where has the time gone? Rachel sighed. She was exhausted, tired of fighting with own daughter, tired of fighting herself. Had she fallen short as a mother? She had some failings, but surely, the good outweighed the bad. Didn’t it?
Rachel straightened her blouse and ran her hands down her slacks, leveling herself inside as well. “There will be no more discussion about this, Bethany. You are to do as you are told.”
Tears filled her daughter’s eyes. She watched as the drops hovered on the edges and then slid down her pretty cheeks. Bethany swallowed and looked up at her, and all the fight was gone. “Please, Mommy. Please don't make me go in there, don’t make me do that.”
Something moved inside Rachel’s heart, a trapped bird, which had once fought for release, just like her daughter was now doing. She’d assumed that bird was long since dead. She’d refused to acknowledge that part of herself, refused to give it life and yet here it was, fluttering inside her chest, reminding her how, just like her daughter, she wanted to be free.
If her own mother hadn't left, maybe things might’ve been different for her. But Mother had chosen herself over her own flesh and blood, leaving Rachel alone with her father. True to his word, he’d been good to her. He’d made her powerful and important and one of the most influential women in the nation’s capital. So, why today, did she feel tested? Why did she consider this a true moment of faith?
“Mommy?”
Rachel focused on that word and the child who spoke—her child. She whipped her hand across her body, striking Bethany on her face with the back of her hand. Her daughter stumbled sideways and clutched her cheek. A tiny trickle of blood slipped from between her daughter’s
small fingers to trail over her knuckle. There was no crying, no whimpering—there was nothing but deathly silence.
Rachel glanced at the bulging diamond ring on her finger. Jesus... what have I done? “Bethany... Bethany, I'm so sorry.”
Rachel reached for her, but her daughter flinched away. Her small body shook. The tremors caused her chiffon blouse to tremble. Her daughter refused to look at her. She refused to tell her it was okay. Instead, when she spoke, her little voice was hard and cold. “I hate you.”
Rachel felt her lip tremble. She rejected those words. She wouldn’t allow them to enter and take hold. “No. I refuse to believe that.”
Bethany lifted her head. Her blond curls fell away, allowing Rachel to see the damage she’d done. It wasn't just the jagged tear in the middle on her glowing cheek, but it was the marring of her daughter’s soul. Her little girl stared at her as though she were a monster. Echoes of the past reared their ugly head as Bethany replayed Rachel’s actions, all those years ago.
Rachel had no other choice. She couldn’t let her daughter go. “You have two choices here. You can pack your bags and leave. I will, of course, call the authorities and name you a runaway. You’ll be placed in a filthy home for wayward girls. There are many I oversee on the committee, and I'm sure I can find you a place in one. But it isn't like home. You’ll be abused on a constant basis until you reach eighteen. Six years... six years can feel like sixty in a place like that.”
Rachel let her voice grow cold. “Or, you can go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. And this time, when I come to get you, you won't make a fuss. You’ll see your grandfather when you’re asked to.”
