“One more jump to go.”
She swallowed as Fuller finally delivered it, pressing her palms into the sawdust-covered floor. The stuff was everywhere she looked. She could smell it, taste it, and its fragments seemed to be affecting her eyes. For once, she almost desired the ritualistic hosing down that likely awaited her after this ordeal.
Fuller moved forward toward the final obstacle, and Hannah glanced up at the thing. Her throat dried—no mean feat when she was already absolutely gasping for a drink. It might be the last fence she’d have to jump, as Fuller so eloquently put it, but it was enormous. It must surely be taller than Hannah, and the sides were nothing but sleek wood, meaning there was nothing for her to use as traction to get up and over.
How the hell was she going to get over this thing?
“Come on.” Fuller tugged at her leash attached to her collar impatiently. “Just one final effort, Hannah, and you can rest.”
She glared up in his direction, taking in the blue eyes which sparkled back at her. Like Lawes, Fuller was the type of guy she’d have once considered attractive. His striking features, strong jaw, and tall, strapping body would undeniably have turned her head, but as she looked at him now, all she saw was the enemy—an oppressor she needed to overcome in order to survive this whole ordeal.
In order to get away.
In order to remain the woman who had wandered innocuously into his trap that fateful day last week. Her breath caught at the thought. Had it really been just over a week she’d been held here? Christ, it seemed like forever. The things she’d experienced in the place would be burned into her soul for all time. Even if the plan worked—even if April could bring the house of cards tumbling down—there would be no walking away from the scars left by Lawes and Fuller.
Fuller lifted the crop into the air, and just the gesture had her moving again. He’d already littered her ass with five cruel stripes from that thing, and she had no desire for any more. She already had the feeling sitting would be painful in the short term.
“Better, but keep moving.”
The crop hovered in the air above her, still an imminent threat, but she had a pardon, for now, at least. The realization hung over Hannah as her nose approached the base of the final obstacle, and she gingerly craned her head to fully take in the sheer size of the thing. Shaking muscles screamed as she climbed to her feet, her tired arms reaching north to grasp the top of the fence. As she suspected, it was taller than she was, and with no discernible foot holds, it seemed an insurmountable challenge.
The swish of the crop sang through the air just seconds before the implement landed on her cheeks again. Hannah winced, drawing the air between her teeth as she pressed her body against the wood as though somehow, it was going to alleviate the pain.
“I said, move!” Fuller growled, taking a step toward her.
Tears sprung in Hannah’s eyes, but it wasn’t just the hurt that produced them. It was her weariness and frustration, too. This last fence wasn’t just difficult, it was impossible, and she was too fucking exhausted to play his game any longer.
“But how?” She spat the word in Fuller’s direction, the venom in her voice surprisingly satisfying to hear. Especially when she already knew what the consequence would be. “How am I supposed to get over it, sir?”
Fuller’s eyes widened at her tone, his voice dropping to a viscous snarl as he leaned over her.
“You will watch your tone, pet.” Acrimony burned in his gaze. “Remember what you are. Remember your place here.”
Hannah glanced away from him. Despite the shattered shell which stood before him, the spirit of the woman she once was surfaced from within. She wished she could spit in his face and tell him exactly who she was—to remind him how he and all the other men here had no right to command her, no rights over any of the women. At the top of the obstacle, her fingers grasped the wood tighter as the silent fury raged.
“For your insolence, you will receive ten additional swats with the crop, then you will get up over that fence, just like I told you.”
It was as she expected—her response had led to repercussions, even though she had bitten back on the outburst, which truly wanted to greet Fuller.
“Yes, sir,” she replied through gritted teeth, her head lowering as she rested her brow against the wood.
Beside her, Fuller sighed as if it was painful for him to have to inflict the strikes. Hannah closed her eyes at that notion. He, like all the others, got off on inflicting that pain, so his weary routine was not going to wash with her.
He leaned closer until his mouth was just a couple of inches from the side of her face. “Count them for me.”
Hannah’s eyes opened, meeting his gaze. “Yes. Sir.”
He moved away, a sufficient distance where the crop would do the most damage. She braced for the first strike, already knowing how much it would smart, yet not concerned. The resurging defiance in her bloodstream wouldn’t allow her to care. However much it stung, she would get through it. She had to. Just like April had to come up trumps upstairs. She had to find the anesthetic and use it as a weapon.
That was their way out of this hell.
That was their hope.
The noise of the thwack resonated before Hannah’s brain registered the pain. Drawing in a sharp breath when it dawned on her, she never made a sound until it was time to number the strike.
“One. Sir.”
She took her time, knowing the longer it took her to answer, the more time she had to prepare for not just the next swat.
Fuller took aim again, the hurt slicing through her bare behind just as fiercely as the first swat. Hannah arched her back, blowing out a breath.
“Two, sir.”
A third and fourth strike followed, and she bore them with quiet dignity, absorbing the pain and using it to buoy her in between numbering them. In her peripheral vision, she could see the way his brow knotted at her response and fought to maintain her composure. It wouldn’t do to smile. Patients at Fuller’s clinic were not supposed to enjoy their punishments, particularly these impromptu ones. It would not do for him to witness her joy. But it was there, swilling inside her as his obvious bewilderment and determination flickered on his face. Fuller was disappointed, frustrated she hadn’t called out and begged him to stop—thwarted by her stoicism.
He sent the crop crashing down against her skin again and again, and still, she was resolute. Yes, the agony was real. Hannah was conscious of each impact as it seared into her skin, but she was also aware of Fuller’s expression and his body language. The more uptight and irritated he became, the stronger she became. She flexed her back, drawing in a deep breath as she numbered the seventh time the crop had collided with her skin.
There were only three more to go.
She could take it, and once it was over, she was getting over this fucking piece of wood. Hannah had no clue how she‘d achieve that feat as she waited to receive the final three swats of the crop, but the certainty had cemented in her head.
She would achieve it.
She would rise up against it as she would soon ascend against Fuller and Lawes. They were not the boss of her, and neither was this obstacle. As the eighth strike landed, she realized that was all it was—an obstacle, a challenge to be overcome—and somehow, she would conquer it.
“Eight, sir.”
Hannah didn’t even have to grit her teeth as she spoke now, boldly lifting her chin to take in the scale of the wood again.
“Two more, Hannah.”
Fuller sounded weary, not beaten, but resigned to the way she was managing her penance. He could change the rules as they often did—make her endure more punishment or concoct something new and even more hideous—but Hannah didn’t think he would. She glanced quickly in his direction and took in the look on his face. His expression was vacant as though the training yard had lost its appeal, and whatever appetite he’d had for the crop had diminished.
“Yes, Mr. Fuller, sir.”
Her
voice was softer, any trace of insolence concealed as she whispered the words to him, and as though Fuller was responding to the tone instinctively, he leaned closer toward her.
“You’re doing well.”
What was this—encouragement? Hannah’s head rose at the notion. Why would he be trying to soothe her when it was so patently clear she would get through the ordeal?
“Very well, indeed.”
Hannah allowed her lips to curl, but only slightly—enough to lull him.
Enough to lure him.
“Thank you, sir.”
A flash of desire flickered in Fuller’s gaze, and she watched as his tongue glided over his white teeth.
“Keep this up, and maybe I’ll think of some way to reward you later.”
She swallowed at that, uncertain how she felt about the concept. Both of the dentists here had bestowed hot, torrid pleasure on her, but they were also the ones who had captured her, humbled her, put her through all of this… Her eyes fluttered closed as the myriad of dreadful scenarios she’d endured and witnessed flashed through her mind.
“Would you like that, Hannah?”
Her eyes opened at his prompt, and she forced herself to smile. She had to be strong—as strong as April—and she had to learn to play the game as well as April did. That was what occupied her mind as she fluttered her lashes at the man who still gripped her leash.
“I’d like that, sir.”
Fuller’s expression softened. “Good.” He paused, and for one moment, Hannah thought he was moving to kiss her, but evidently, he thought better of it. They still had the matter of her punishment to conclude.
He was still in charge.
“Two more, then you finish this.”
She nodded, glancing away from him. Never had truer words been spoken.
Twenty-Five
April
Adrenaline coursed through her veins so fast, April could barely think.
This was it.
This was the moment she’d been dreaming about, the one she’d been planning for days. Hour after hour of imagining the detail, even when she’d been gagged and unable to speak. Even when she’d been caged. Even when she’d been chained. It didn’t matter—the men here could control her body, but they couldn’t control her mind. Her thoughts remained her own, and they were defiant.
Sure, there had been moments April had faltered. Flashes in time when her body had been trapped in the ecstatic agony, and her ideas were suspended, but that was all it ever was—suspension. Lawes had never truly gotten inside her head.
He had never broken her will.
“You have five seconds, little pet.” Lawes shifted in the chair, his green gaze appearing as he turned.
April smiled. “Yes, master.”
The syringes were already primed and ready to use, hidden behind her back before he’d turned. There she was, naked, hands behind her back and eyes fluttering at him with seductive intent. To anyone else, it might have been a suspicious stance, but Lawes didn’t even blink. It was precisely how he expected to find the women he’d captured—their wrists always either bound or positioned in the small of their backs—and how he liked them. Normally, they would be forced to their knees, but after the way he’d just fucked her, April’s position didn’t rouse any concerns. She was just as she should be—nude, breasts jutting out, and vulnerable. There was nothing about the scene that evoked wariness.
He stretched back in the chair, his gaze following her compliance as she approached. “Perhaps I’ll have you polish my cock for me before we start the treatment,” he murmured as his eyes fluttered shut, no doubt imaging the sordid scene he described. “There’s something about you, April. Something which makes me insatiable.”
“Thank you, master.”
Lawes’ smile widened. “There always has been.”
She raised the syringe in her right hand, angling the needle toward him. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Lawes was relaxed and cocky, and with his eyes closed, he didn’t stand a chance. April plunged the syringe at his neck, and as the metal of the needle penetrated his skin and she pushed the drug into him, time seemed to stand still. Her heart was still beating, she was aware of that much. The organ was hammering so fast, she was surprised she hadn’t passed out, but beyond that, there was nothing but calm.
She’d done it.
She’d done it for her and for feisty young Hannah. Hell, she’d done it for every woman trapped in this twisted hellhole, and for everyone they planned to take in the future. She’d stabbed the bastard with whatever crap was in the syringe. Whatever happened now, she had given it her best shot.
“What the fuck?” Lawes jolted, knocking the syringe from her hand. “What have you done, you little bitch? What the fuck have you given me?”
April heard the sound of the syringe crashing to the polished floor, her heart still thundering as she swapped the remaining syringe into her right hand and leapt out of his reach.
“Just a little taste of your own medicine, master.”
She wasn’t out of the woods yet. Lawes was a huge guy, and she had no idea what she had just forced into his body or how much, let alone how long it would take to have any effect, but at that moment, April couldn’t think to care. Triumph mingled with her defiance, the combination potent, and as he lurched forward out of the chair, it wasn’t a rush of fear she experienced but exhilaration.
Lawes charged her, pinning her against the counter she’d backed into, his face contorted with rage. April’s arm was trapped against the side, but the remaining syringe was still safely in her hand.
“You’ll pay for this,” he seethed, yanking her head back with a fistful of her hair. “I’ll make you fucking pay.”
April swallowed. She’d expected this reaction, on some level, at least. A man like Lawes wasn’t going to go down without a fight, but neither was a woman like April. That was where he and Fuller had gone wrong. They’d underestimated the women they’d captured right from the start, assuming their male strength and ingenuity would be enough to keep them on top, but in the end, they were wrong. April was tenacious.
April Page belonged to no man.
“Oh, good.” She laughed, despite the fact her head was yanked back, about to be pulled out of her scalp. Gripping the second syringe, she waited for the chance to strike once more. “I was hoping it was time to pay.”
“What?” Lawes hissed the words, but his grip on her lessened, and he staggered right as though he’d had one too many to drink.
April smiled. The sedative—or whatever the hell she had given him—was starting to do its job. Lawes blinked down at her, and she could see the confusion in his eyes. A part of his brain had registered what happened. A part knew he’d let his guard down and had been drugged, but another part was struggling to recall the detail. She pressed forward, using her weight to push him backward. April remembered all too well how potent the sedatives they used were. She’d been given her first dose in the hot drink they’d given her when she’d first arrived, and a second shot when she’d fought back in the early days. She recalled with surprising clarity the way the drug had made her feel—the way the room had started to spin and how heavy her head had become.
“I don’t feel great.” His voice was raspy as puzzled green eyes searched the room. “Get Fuller. I need Fuller.”
He lunged in the direction of the door, and for a split second, panic bloomed in April’s chest. She couldn’t allow him to leave the treatment room and alert the others to what was going on. That would ruin the plan.
That would ruin everything.
“Mr. Fuller wanted you to take it easy.” She strode after him, spinning his disorientated body back in the direction of the dental chair. “Why don’t you take a seat, master?”
She flashed a smile at him, and his brows knitted.
“What? No, I—”
Lawes never completed his sentence. His knees gave way, and he fell forward onto all fours. April darted out of his way, o
nly just avoiding the bulk of the man as he cascaded to the floor.
“I-I need to get up.”
“No,” she assured him, readying the needle in her hand. “You need to rest, Mr. Lawes. Why don’t you stay down there?”
In a moment of brief lucidity, he twisted his head toward April, the weight of his green gaze piercing her. There was sweat on his brow, and his face was reddening.
“You did this!”
April lowered herself to one knee and offered him her sweetest smile.
“Yes, Mr. Lawes. It was me.”
Panting, his head lowered again as though it couldn’t comprehend his new reality, and that was all the chance April needed. Swooping, she impaled him with the fresh needle, thrusting the drug into the opposite side of his neck. Lawes screeched, the noise reverberating around the room for one long moment.
April glanced around hurriedly, trying to hear above the sound of her own racing heart—trying to decide if his cry had attracted attention. It took a few seconds to reassure herself it hadn’t. Everyone else was in the training yard, and there was no one here to assist Lawes. It was just the way he wanted it—and incredibly helpful to April. It would have been a lot more work, disabling two of them, but Lawes’ lust and greed had combined to remedy that problem.
She inched in his direction, taking in the man. He was far less impressive on his hands and knees, sweating—barely remarkable. Leaning down, April muttered the words she’d long to say.
“You were the one who took me, Lawes. Now, I take me back!”
His gaze flitted to her in recognition, one large palm rising to strike her, but she pushed it away, sending it crashing back down to the floor, along with the rest of the man who seemed to lose his balance with the force she’d used.
She inhaled. She really didn’t know how much of the drug she’d given him. Maybe she’d injected too much. Her lips curled at the thought. A sick part of her fucking hoped so, although there was still a side of April Page who wanted her day in court. She wanted to see Lawes there, as well as Fuller and the others. She needed to watch them squirm.
Countered: A Dark Suspenseful Gothic Romance (The Rule of Lawes Series Book 2) Page 15
