Chapter 113 - ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

Chapter 113: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

ANGEL

"He sold me! He handed me over to the same dark underground hellhole you were supposed to rot in! It’s all because of you! You ruined me, you filthy little parasite! It is all your fault!" She was screaming now, flecks of spit flying from her lips, her eyes wild with complete lunacy.

She was unhinged, but those words didn’t scare me—they sank straight into my bones where I could taste and savor every delicious drop.

Vincenzo had sold her off. He had divorced her, stripped her of everything, and tossed her into a cage to be used and broken, the exact same way Damien had tried to possess me.

Because of me. I mattered to him. She was just trash he cleared out of my way.

A wave of pure, dark glee washed over me, so potent it felt almost dirty.

"Sounds like you got exactly what your pathetic ass deserved," I purred, flashing her a sweet smile through my messy hair. "Maybe if your pussy wasn’t so stale and useless, Daddy wouldn’t have needed to fuck mine so bad."

CRACK.

The slap came so fast I didn’t even see her hand move.

My head snapped violently to the side, pain exploding across my jawline as my teeth cut deep into the flesh of my inner lip. The copper taste of blood flooded my tongue instantly. Stars burst across my vision, and for a second I just hung in the tight restraints, my ears ringing, trying to remember how to breathe past the throbbing heat in my face.

Before I could recover, Jillian’s claw-like hand shot out and clamped around my chin, yanking my face back toward her so hard her nails dug deep into my skin, threatening to bruise the bone.

"You think this is funny, you little whore?" Her voice shook with a feral, murderous vibration. "Look at you, tied up like a dog! You think you can still talk to me like that?"

I gathered the hot blood pooling in my mouth, letting the thick, copper fluid build up on my tongue.

And spit it straight into her ugly face.

The glob of bloody saliva hit her cheek, running slowly down toward her jawline. Jillian’s whole body going dead still, her grip on my chin turning to ice-cold iron.

Then she hit me again—harder, a vicious backhand that made my vision flash completely white. My ears roared with static, but through the haze, the sound of my own taunting, bratty laugh echoed out into the room.

I laughed until my ribs ached, cackling straight into her face as my eyes cleared. "Is that all you’ve got, old woman?" I grinned at her, my teeth stained bright red with my own blood. "Vincenzo spanks my ass ten times harder than that just to wake me up in the morning."

"You rotten little bitch! You just don’t know how to close your fucking mouth, do you?!"

Her hand fisted violently into my hair, yanking my head back until my neck strained at an agonizing angle. I was forced to stare up at the cracked ceiling, completely helpless in her grip, but I’d die before I let this pathetic excuse for a mother see a single tear.

"What is so damn special about you?!" she raged, her breath sour and hot against my skin. "Why are they all so fucking unhinged over you? Why are they obsessed with a broken, dirty little girl? You are nothing! Just a spoiled, bratty whore who spreads her legs for any man who buys her a pretty dress."

"Maybe that’s exactly why," I laughed. "Maybe I’m just that fucking good, Mommy. Maybe my pussy is so sweet and tight that Daddy is going to burn this entire city to ash just to get his hands back on it."

Her grip tightened until hair was torn from my scalp, tears of pure pain pricking the corners of my eyes, but I kept going.

"And when he finds you— And he will find you, Jillian. He’s going to make you scream while he skins you alive."

Jillian shoved my head back brutally against the headboard. THUD.

"Shut up!"

"Make me, bitch."

We stared each other down, both of us breathing heavily, and I watched with wicked satisfaction as panic began to creep into her eyes.

"You actually think Vincenzo is coming to rescue you?" she asked, trying desperately to sound cool and composed again.

"I think you’re going to die begging on your knees," I said softly, my voice dead calm. "That’s what I know."

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of her throat. "Oh, don’t worry, darling... he’s definitely coming. I made sure of that." She paused, her eyes roaming over my tied-up, bloodied body with a dark, twisted delight. "And he isn’t coming alone. Damien got my little invitation, too. Both of your masters, racing across the city just to claim their favorite piece of trash."

Damien.

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking through my system and stealing my breath.

Damien was alive and he knew where I was.

He was coming too.

For the first time since Jillian began to speak, I felt panic.

"We’re going to play a game," Jillian continued, watching my expression with something like satisfaction. "One where you suffer. And they watch." She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, almost gently. "And when it’s over, there won’t be anything left of you worth fighting over."

I held her gaze without blinking.

"Vincenzo is going to kill you."

"Maybe." Her smile stretched wider. "But not before I break you first."

A sound at the door made my head turn—footsteps.

Another figure stepped into the room.

Jillian’s smile changed at the sight of them, something almost like warmth entering those dead eyes as she looked toward the doorway.

"Perfect timing."

The figure moved into the light, and my stomach dropped through the floor.

I knew that face. How?

How could this be?

"Hello, Angel." The voice was warm, friendly even. "It’s good to see you again."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​