Chapter 9

The next hour was a blur of violence and shame. They didn’t care that she was a virgin; if anything, it made them louder, their laughter echoing off the damp stone walls as they took turns. Every time Lydia tried to fight, a fist to the stomach or a backhand to the face silenced her.

“She’s untouched!” the one with the dagger crowed, his voice thick with twisted glee. “Cindy didn’t tell us she was a prize like this. She really did us a favour.”

“A real gift,” the scarred man agreed, his breath hot against her neck. “We should thank her.”

Lydia’s world narrowed down to the ceiling and the agonizing weight of them. Her body felt like it wasn’t hers anymore, just something they were breaking. Through the haze of pain, she heard the sound of a glass vial clinking.

“Wait, wait,”

“We can’t have her healing too fast,” the scarred man said, pulling a small syringe from his pocket. His eyes glinted with a cruel excitement. “Wolfsbane. Just enough to keep her weak, keep her from fighting back.”

“Do it,” the one with the dagger urged, leaning over her. “I want her completely pliable.”

Lydia’s eyes widened as she saw the needle. “No—don’t you dare—”

The man didn’t listen. He pressed the needle into her shoulder, and as the liquid entered her bloodstream, a cold fire spread through her veins. Her muscles, already trembling from the assault, suddenly went slack. The strength she had been gathering to fight them drained away like water through sand.

“There she goes,” the man holding her legs muttered, feeling her resistance fade. “Look at her eyes. Going all glassy.”

“Beautiful,”

the scarred man whispered, his face hovering inches from hers. He reached out and stroked her cheek with a dirty thumb, his touch sickeningly gentle compared to the violence of moments before. “See? Now you’re going to be real cooperative for us.”

Lydia tried to spit at him, but her jaw wouldn’t obey. Her tongue felt heavy, like a piece of lead in her mouth. The wolfsbane was working fast, a numbing cold spreading from her shoulder through her entire body, turning her limbs into useless weights. She could feel her heart thudding irregularly against her ribs, but she couldn’t even muster the strength to sob.

“She’s barely even fighting now,” the one with the dagger remarked, sounding almost disappointed. He leaned down and gripped her chin, forcing her head back against the stone. “Hey, princess. You still in there?”

“She’s in there,”

the scarred man said, his grin widening. “And she’s gonna stay in there just long enough to feel every bit of this.”

He leaned down, his mouth pressing against her neck in a way that made Lydia want to scream, but all that came out was a weak, broken whimper. The wolfsbane made her body feel like it was sinking into the stone floor, heavy and unresponsive. Every sensation—the rough hands, the smell of them, the cold air on her exposed skin—felt amplified and distorted.

“Look at her,” the third man said, standing over them all. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back further. “She’s trembling. You like that, princess?”

Lydia’s vision swam. The lantern light above her flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced across the ceiling like monsters.

“She’s more than trembling,” the man with the dagger said, his hand sliding down her side. “She’s practically begging for it now.”

“Is she?” The scarred man laughed, his grip on her hair tightening. He yanked her head back just a little further, exposing her throat. “I think she’s just enjoying the attention.”

Lydia tried to pull away, but her neck felt like it was made of water. The wolfsbane was a heavy blanket over her brain, making every thought sluggish and thick. She could see their faces—distorted, grinning, ugly—and they felt miles away even though they were right there.

“Your turn, Jax,” the one holding her legs said, releasing his grip. “Don’t let her get too comfortable.”

Jax stepped forward, his eyes dark with anticipation. He knelt over her, his hands pinning her wrists to the floor above her head.

“You’re a real prize, Lydia,” Jax muttered, his weight settling over her. “Cindy did us a favour, really did.”

Lydia’s eyes flared, the last remnants of her defiance sparking even as her body betrayed her. “I’ll... I’ll kill you,” she managed, the words coming out thick and slurred thanks to the wolfsbane.

“With what? Your tongue?” Jax laughed, pressing his chest down against hers. “You can’t even lift your arms.”

He leaned down, his mouth harsh against her skin, while the scarred man watched with a grin, leaning against the pillar. The other two stood close, their presence a suffocating wall of heat and shadow.

“Take your time with her,” the scarred man encouraged, his voice low. “We’ve got all night, and she isn’t going anywhere.”