Chapter 2: No Use For A Broken Woman

~AURORA~

“Have you suddenly gone dumb?!” Kevin spat and I flinched. “Answer me dammit!”

I stood there, frightened and unable to speak. I just… bowed my head to the ground, hoping for it to open up and swallow me whole.

Kevin smashed his whiskey glass onto the floor suddenly, startling me. He stood up almost immediately and strode toward me with fury in his eyes.

“I asked you a fucking question!” He roared.

“I… I was just—”

The first blow came before I could finish. His fist connected with my cheek, sending me crashing to the floor. My bags scattered across the room, my belongings spilling everywhere.

“You ungrateful bitch!” he snarled, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me up. “After everything I’ve done for you!”

“Kevin, please—” I gasped, but another punch silenced me. This one hit my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs.

“You were going to run?!” He kicked me in the stomach, and I curled into a ball, sobbing. “You were going to leave me to die?!”

“I’m sorry… please…” I wheezed, tasting blood in my mouth.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” He kicked me again, this time in the back. Pain exploded through my spine. “Do you know what Marcel would do to me if I didn’t deliver you?!”

I couldn’t respond. Each breath felt like knives in my chest. My vision blurred with tears and darkness crept at the edges.

“You’re nothing without me, Rory. Nothing!” He grabbed my throat, slamming my head against the floor. Once. Twice. “I should’ve sold you years ago.”

I tried to speak, tried to beg him to stop, but no words came out. Just a pathetic choking sound that seemed to fuel his rage even more.

“You know what your problem is?” He yanked me up by my hair again, forcing me to look at him through my swelling eyes. “You think you’re better than me. You think you deserve more than this shithole, more than the life I’ve given you.”

“N-no—” I managed to croak out.

“Yes!” He slapped me hard across the face. “I see it in your eyes every fucking day. That judgment. That disappointment. Like you’re some kind of princess trapped in the wrong life.”

He threw me back down, and my head cracked against the floor again. Stars burst across my vision.

“You were nothing when my parents took you in,” he continued, his voice venomous. “A nobody. An orphan that nobody wanted. And this is how you repay us? By trying to run? By abandoning me when I need you most?”

His boot connected with my side again, and something inside me cracked. I cried out, the sound weak and broken.

“Shut up!” He kicked me again. “You don’t get to cry! You did this to yourself!”

The world was fading. I could barely feel the pain anymore, just a distant ache spreading through my entire body. Blood pooled beneath my head where it had hit the floor. I could taste copper on my tongue, feel it dripping from my nose.

Kevin was still ranting, still kicking, but his voice sounded far away now, like I was underwater.

“Worthless… should have gotten rid of you years ago… burden…”

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard something. A knock. Loud and authoritative.

Kevin froze, still gripping my hair.

The knock came again, harder this time. More insistent.

“Shit,” Kevin muttered, releasing me. My head hit the floor with a thud.

I could hear him scrambling, his footsteps quick and panicked as he moved toward the door. “Who—who is it?” he called out, his voice suddenly uncertain.

No answer. Just another knock. This one so hard the door frame rattled.

“Just a minute! I’m coming!” Kevin’s voice was higher now, afraid.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking around wildly at the mess—at me, bleeding on the floor, at my scattered belongings, at the broken glass and overturned furniture.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He didn’t even make it to the door before it burst open with a deafening crash.

The door flew off its hinges, slamming against the wall. Splinters of wood scattered across the floor.

A man walked in. My vision was blurry and I could barely see him, but I could tell that he was tall, imposing and dressed in an expensive black suit that screamed power and danger. Behind him, two men in tactical gear flanked the entrance, their hands resting on visible weapons.

But it was the man in the center who held all the attention. He moved with the confidence of someone who owned everything he looked at. In his right hand, he held a gun—sleek, black, deadly.

Even through my fading consciousness, I could feel the shift in the air. The temperature seemed to drop. The very atmosphere became heavy with menace.

Kevin stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Marcel—” His voice cracked. “I can explain—”

“Explain?” Marcel’s voice was smooth, almost bored. “Explain what? That you thought you could run? That you’re two hours late delivering what you owe me?”

“No, no, I wasn’t running! I was waiting for you!” Kevin raised his hands, stumbling backward. “She was trying to run! I stopped her!”

Through my half-closed eyes, I watched as Kevin pointed at me, his hand shaking.

Marcel took a slow step forward, his expensive shoes crunching on the broken glass. He surveyed the room with cold, calculating eyes—taking in every detail, every sign of violence, every drop of blood.

“Two hours,” Marcel repeated, his voice still eerily calm. “I gave you until eight o’clock. It’s now past ten.”

“I know, I know, but I had to stop her from running! She tried to leave, to abandon the deal—”

“The deal,” Marcel interrupted, “was that you would have her ready. Not half-dead on the floor.”

I lay there on the floor, barely conscious, watching through half-closed eyes as my brother groveled.

Marcel’s gaze shifted to me for the first time. His dark eyes swept over my broken form, taking in the blood, the bruises, the way I could barely move.

For a moment—just a brief moment—something flickered across his face. But it was gone before I could identify it.

His expression didn’t change. Cold. Calculating.

He crouched down, still several feet away from me, his gun hanging loosely in his hand. He tilted his head, studying me like I was an interesting specimen under a microscope.

“Can she even walk?” he asked, not looking at Kevin.

“Yes! Yes, she can walk. She’s fine, just a bit bruised—”

“A bit bruised,” Marcel repeated flatly. He stood up, turning to face Kevin fully now. “She’s barely conscious.”

“She’ll heal! She’s young, she heals fast—”

“Where is my money, Sinclair?” Marcel asked, his tone still conversational but with an edge of steel underneath.

The use of Kevin’s last name made my brother flinch.

“I… I don’t have it but… it’s her! Yes, that’s Aurora. She’s yours. Take her. Please, just take her and we’re square, right?” Kevin was practically on his knees now, his hands clasped together in supplication.

Marcel’s eyes returned to Kevin. He cocked the gun, the click echoing through the silent room.

The two men behind him shifted slightly, hands moving to their own weapons. Ready. Waiting.

“I have no use for a broken woman,” Marcel said coldly.

“No, no, no, please!” Kevin’s voice reached a hysterical pitch. Tears were streaming down his face now, snot running from his nose. He looked pathetic, desperate. “She’s not broken! Just a little roughed up. She’ll heal! She’s young, healthy, a virgin even! You can do whatever you want with her. Please, Marcel. I’m begging you. Don’t kill me. Take her. She’s worth twenty billion, I swear. More even! She’ll serve you well. She’s obedient, she won’t cause trouble—”

“You’re pathetic,” Marcel interrupted, pressing the barrel harder against Kevin’s forehead.

Kevin’s legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees, still holding his hands up in a pleading gesture. “I know! I know I am! But please, give me this chance. Take her. If she doesn’t satisfy you, you can kill us both. But please… please don’t kill me now. I’ll do anything. Anything! I’ll work for you, I’ll—”

“I don’t need men who can’t honor their debts,” Marcel said.

“Then take her! She’s worth more than the money anyway! She’s untouched, trained to be obedient, she’ll do whatever you want without complaint. I’ve made sure of that over the years.” Kevin was babbling now, words spilling out faster and faster. “She cooks, she cleans, she’s educated—my parents made sure of that before they died. She can read, write, speak properly. She’d be perfect for whatever you need. Entertainment, service, whatever! Please, Marcel. I’m begging you on my life. Take her and we’re even. I’ll never bother you again. I’ll disappear. You’ll never have to see my face—”

“That much is certain,” Marcel murmured.

Kevin went pale. “Wait, no—”

The silence stretched. I could feel myself slipping away, the darkness pulling me under. Each breath was becoming harder to take. The pain was fading now, replaced by a cold numbness that spread from my extremities inward.

‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ I thought hazily. ‘Maybe dying is better than whatever comes next.’

Marcel’s jaw tightened. His finger moved on the trigger, just slightly.

Then, slowly, he lowered the gun.

Kevin let out a sob of relief.

“Fine,” Marcel said, his voice devoid of emotion. “But if she’s more trouble than she’s worth, I’m coming back for you. And next time, I won’t be so generous.”

“Thank you, thank you—”

“Shut up.” Marcel turned to one of his men without even looking at Kevin anymore. “Get her. Carefully. She’s damaged enough already.”

“Yes, sir.” The man moved toward me immediately.

“And bag her things,” Marcel added, gesturing to my scattered belongings. “All of it.”

As the man approached me, I tried to speak, tried to protest, but nothing came out. My voice was gone. My strength was gone.

I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do anything but let this happen.

But my body wouldn’t respond. I could only lie there, limp and broken, as he lifted me off the floor.

The movement sent fresh waves of agony through my body, and I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped my lips.

The second guard was quickly gathering my things, shoving my clothes and few belongings back into my bags with efficient movements.

“Sir, all secured,” he reported.

Marcel nodded once. Then he turned to Kevin, who was still kneeling on the floor, now crying openly.

“You have twenty-four hours to disappear,” Marcel said. “I don’t care where you go, but I don’t want to see you in my territory again. If I do…” He paused. “Well. There won’t be any more second chances.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, Marcel. Thank you so much. I swear you won’t regret this—”

“I already regret it,” Marcel said flatly. He looked at Kevin with pure contempt. “You disgust me, Sinclair. Selling your own family to save your worthless life. If she dies because of what you’ve done to her tonight, I will find you. And I will make your death last days.”

Kevin’s face went white. He nodded frantically, unable to form words anymore.

Marcel turned away, dismissing him entirely. “Let’s go.”

The man carrying me moved toward the door. The other followed with my bags.

The last thing I saw through my blurry vision was Kevin’s relieved face, watching as I was carried away. He was still on his knees, still crying, but there was relief in his eyes. Relief that he was alive. Relief that I was gone.

He didn’t look sorry. He didn’t look guilty.

He just looked relieved.