Remi POV
"How fast can you take this off?"
My breath hitched, and my body trembled even more.
"What?" I whispered, even though I had heard him clearly.
"How. Fast. Can you take it off?" he repeated slowly. I tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, painfully, on my ass.
"You know, I bet I can take it off in less than two seconds." He raised his other hand, extended his claws, and chuckled—admiring them under the light.
"I… I don't want to take it off… please, I want to go home. I'm sorry for trying to escape. Please…" I said, repeating the words while shaking my head desperately.
His gaze shifted back to me. He was still smiling, but the warmth in his eyes started to fade.
"That's not what I asked," he said. "Do you want me to tear it off myself, or will you be a good girl and do it for me?"
A shiver ran down my spine. There was practically nothing left to take off—clinging to it was the only thing keeping me sane. But I nodded anyway, even though it felt like a betrayal of myself.
His smile widened. He let go of me and took a step back.
I turned my back to him slowly. My shaky hands moved towards the straps, and I began pulling it down.
That's when I saw that the door was slightly open.
My instinct took over before I could think, and I sprinted towards it.
"Please! Somebody help me!" I screamed, bolting into the hallway, not even looking where I was going. I was just running.
But then I collided with a chest and was knocked backward.
It belonged to a man, one I hadn't seen before, with dark hair and eyes almost black. He wasn't dressed like the other guards or staff, so I assumed he was someone important.
"Please, you have to help me," I begged.
But he just stared at me. I was so stupid to believe he would be any different.
Seconds later, I heard that familiar growl followed by heavy footsteps.
Before I could pick myself back up, Damon's strong hand grabbed me, lifting me off the ground and throwing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
"Now I'm mad," he growled.
The next thing I knew, I was back in his bedroom. He tossed me roughly onto the bed and this time, he locked the door.
I tried to get back up, but he slapped me hard across the face, and I tasted blood in my mouth again. Tears streamed down my face as he gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"We do things differently around here. No one is going to save you. You hear me? No one! You belong to me. You are mine now!" The warmth in his eyes had completely vanished. Now he looked like a deranged psychopath.
Then he crashed his lips onto mine, kissing me aggressively and forcing his tongue into my mouth.
I kicked, I hit, I did anything to push him off me, but he was too strong. I bit down hard on his lip, enough to make him bleed.
He pulled back, stunned. Then he licked the blood and smiled. "Oh, now you've done it," he said lowly.
There was a glint in his eye, like I had unlocked a darker part of him. The part he enjoyed. In an instant, he ripped the lingerie off me.
"Seems like you like learning the hard way," he sneered, grabbing my leg and forcing it apart. "Lucky for you, I didn't plan on being gentle."
I screamed as he inserted a finger. My entire body stiffened, and my eyes widened in terror.
But then he paused.
"You are a virgin," he said. That wasn't a question.
He tilted his head slightly, watching me closely.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
My lips trembled, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to disappear. Trying to make myself small, invisible. Maybe he would stop.
But the silence gave me away.
His smile widened even more.
"Oh… that makes this even better," he whispered. Without warning, he thrust in another finger, deeper than before.
I screamed again, my back arching off the bed from the pain.
"Stop, please—please!" I cried, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.
"You know, I'm doing you a favor," he murmured darkly.
Then he pulled his fingers out slowly, and I watched, horrified, as he brought them to his lips and licked them clean like it was nothing.
Then he stood, undoing his pants and pulling them down.
My heart stopped.
My eyes widened in pure dread when he stroked himself twice, then moved between my legs.
"This'll hurt a little," he warned.
And then he pushed inside.
I cried out, the sudden fullness tearing through me like fire. My walls burned, stretched beyond what I thought was possible, and he didn't even give me time to breathe before he began thrusting—deep, relentless.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe more.
At some point, I stopped screaming.
I wasn't even there anymore. Not really. My body was, but my mind had checked out.
I focused on the ceiling. On the cracks in the paint. The sound of the wind outside. Anything but the brutal rhythm above me.
Just when I thought it was over, he flipped me onto my stomach, spreading me apart, and continued without a word.
When he was done, he pulled out and stood up.
"You made me act like this," he muttered, grabbing a cigarette from the nightstand. He lit it and inhaled deeply. "If you were just obedient and did as I asked… I would've been gentle. You wouldn't have even felt a thing."
He laughed. I curled into myself tighter, the thin sheet doing nothing to hide the blood between my thighs. Another tear slid down my cheek, soaking into an already drenched pillow.
"But," he said casually as smoke swirled around him. "I have to admit… it tasted even better this way."
"Do that again tomorrow," he added, tossing a shirt at me before turning and disappearing into the bathroom. The shower turned on seconds later.
I stared at the ceiling. Every breath felt like broken glass in my chest.
Then I moved slowly, aching in places I didn't even know could hurt, and somehow managed to slip into the oversized shirt.
My hands were shaking as I buttoned the last one. Immediately, the door opened, and two guards stepped in.
"Alpha," one called.
"Take her back to the cell," his voice echoed from behind the running water.
I was taken back to the cold cell. I remained crouched in a corner, just staring at nothing as my mind tried to process the fact that it had actually happened.
Minutes passed—maybe hours. The metal door opened again. This time, his wife stepped in.
I lowered my head, trying not to look at her, but she knelt in front of me. "Poor little thing," she whispered, tenderly brushing my hair back from my face.
She sighed, almost like she was disappointed, then she looked down at the shirt. "Must've been quite a night… He's rougher with the ones he enjoys."
The ones he enjoys. Does that mean there were others like me who had to endure this torture?
Her fingers gripped the collar of the shirt, and she began to slowly undo the top button, then the next. I tensed up, but she didn't stop.
Instead, she slid her hand inside and cupped one of my breasts, squeezing it gently.
"Hmm…" she said, letting out a shaky breath. "You are so soft. No wonder he couldn't stop himself."