Trap Me or Free Me

Throw Her in With the Dog

They pinned me to the ground, their grips unforgiving.

Luna's foot pressed hard against my face, grinding it with cruel force. "Stop yelling! You sound like a dying animal!"

She glanced at one of the men nearby. "What are you waiting for? Get it done!"

I looked at Quinn through the haze of pain, my eyes pleading. "That… it's all I have left from him. Please…"

Clint had been close to Quinn before his disappearance. It was only because he saved Quinn's life once that he had gotten into the syndicate under York's wing. Quinn knew everything about me and Clint; he even brought us to get our tattoos together.

I was hoping, praying, that Quinn would show some mercy for Clint's sake if anything else. Yet, he didn't even look at me.

"You never should have gotten mixed up with York. If you survive, one day, he's going to die because of you!"

Luna let out a wild laugh. "Look at you, a total wreck! And you still think you can charm your way out of this?"

With that, she grabbed the knife, her hands working with brutal precision.

The pain was beyond words, searing through my body like fire. However, her grip only tightened as if feeding off my agony.

When she finally carved out the tattoo, my arm felt hollow, the faint outline of bone showing beneath the ragged flesh.

I lost consciousness more than once.

Each time, they brought me back by dousing me in saltwater.

Regardless, Luna wasn't done. She had someone force my jaw open and poured boiling water straight down my throat.

The scalding heat tore through me, every nerve in my body screaming in silent agony.

I tried to cry out, but all that came out were choked, broken gasps.

Curled up on the floor, drenched in blood, I barely clung to what was left of my sanity.

Luna glanced impatiently at the door, the sound of dogs barking still echoing outside.

"Throw her in with the dog!" she ordered.

They lifted me off the ground, dragging me toward the door.

A thick trail of blood snaked across the once-pristine floor.

Quinn frowned slightly, stepping in front of me. "That's enough."

Luna smirked, pushing him aside with ease. "What's this? Feeling soft all of a sudden? Don't forget. You were the one who said we should deal with this wretch today. If you're gonna use my hands, then sit back and let me finish the job!"

With a swift kick, she knocked me over and began ripping off my clothes without a care.

I didn't resist. My body had lost its fight the moment I found out Clint had died.

I stared blankly at the locked cage in front of me and felt absolutely nothing.

The Cane Corso caught the scent of my blood, its eyes flaring with savage hunger. It lunged at me, sinking its teeth deep into my calf.

Luna grinned wildly, lifting her phone to snap a picture. "Weren't you just running that sharp little mouth of yours? Get up and talk! Let's see who's got the meaner bite—you or this dog!"

She laughed arrogantly, her voice ringing out in the room.

Quinn stood next to her, his expression cold and distant. I wondered if Clint ever regretted saving him. Probably not. He was never one to regret his choices.

I was sprawled against the ground as I clung to memories, trying to dull the pain that coursed through my body.

The Cane Corso tore another chunk of flesh from my leg, gnawing on it like a prize. I no longer fought back. Eventually, even Luna seemed to grow bored.

Just as the dog prepared to strike again, something changed. In the blink of an eye, it dropped to the floor, as meek as a lamb, frozen in place like it had seen a ghost.

My heart lurched.

Behind me, a commanding voice cut through the air, demanding, "Who gave you permission to come in here?"