Chapter 2

Linnea's POV

Looking at his face right now, I feel sick.

A few hours ago he was in that study calling me disgusting, saying I was nothing but a bullet shield and something to pass the time with. Now he's sitting here holding my hand without a flicker of guilt, talking about having a baby together.

If I said yes, I give it five minutes before he's coughing up blood again.

I pull my hand back slowly. Eyes that once only ever softened for him now look straight through him.

No pleading. No hope. Just a calm that probably unnerves him more than anything else could.

"Does it hurt?" I ask quietly.

The warmth drains off his face instantly. His eyes go sharp. "What did you just say?"

"The injections," I say. "Every time you can't stand the thought of touching me, you shoot a nerve blocker into your vein. Does it hurt?"

The corner of my mouth curls up. "Damon Kingsley. You'd put your own body through hell just to keep yourself clean for Aurora. How noble of you. Too bad you needed me to take the blame for it. Made me the laughingstock of this whole family."

"You followed me?" He's on his feet, that soft mask gone, his face twisted with fury. "You were spying on me in my own study?"

"If you don't want people to find out," I say, keeping my voice flat, "don't do things worth hiding. Damon Kingsley, you make me sick."

The slap hits hard enough to knock me off my feet.

I hit the floor. I taste blood where my lip split. Strangely, I don't feel much.

He grabs me by the hair and hauls me up off the ground. "Who do you think you are, looking at me like that?" His eyes are ugly with rage. "Since you know everything, let me make something real clear. You don't come close to Aurora. Not even a little. You're a tool. Something I kept around. That's all you've ever been."

"Is that right?" The pain tearing through my scalp doesn't pull a single tear out of me. I actually laugh. "Then let's get divorced. Let me go. Go be with your dead brother's widow."

"Divorced?" He lets out a sound like I've said something insane, then throws me into the wall.

My back slams into it hard and the air leaves my lungs.

"Linnea Hayes, you think you can walk in and out of this family whenever you feel like it?" He signals his men, voice like ice. "In this family, you spy on the man in charge, that's a death sentence. Take Mrs. Kingsley down to the basement. Family justice."

His men are through the door in seconds, grabbing me by the arms and dragging me toward the basement.

The Kingsley basement smells like blood and cold stone, the kind that's been soaked into the walls for years. Instruments you don't want to think about line every surface.

They chain me to the rack. The iron bites into my wrists almost immediately.

Damon comes down the stairs slow, the barbed whip hanging loose in one hand. The thing's been soaked in saltwater. Every barb catches the light.

"I'll give you one last chance." He stands in front of me, looking at me like I'm nothing. "Get on your knees. Admit you were wrong. Swear you'll fall in line."

I spit blood onto the floor. "Not a chance."

"Fine. Have it your way."

The whip comes down. My nightgown tears open, and I feel it all at once, the burn, the split of skin, the warmth spreading fast.

I bite down on my lip and don't make a sound.

He doesn't stop. The blood smell fills the room. My body shakes against the chains, blood running down my legs and pooling on the floor beneath me.

"Beg!" He stares at my face, and whatever he sees there only makes him angrier. "Why won't you just beg?"

He wants to see me the way I used to be. Crying. Crawling. Broken at his feet. But there's nothing left in my eyes now. No fear. No pain. Just silence, and something close to contempt.

By the end I have nothing left. My head drops. Blood blurs my vision.

But just before I go under, I manage to get the words out.

"Damon Kingsley... you can't kill me like this... one day... you're going to regret every single thing you did to me..."

His hand stops. The whip drops to the floor.

He stands there looking at this woman covered in blood who still won't break, and something moves behind his eyes. Something that doesn't look like anger.

He shoves it down fast. Scoffs. Then turns and walks out of the basement without looking back.

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