Chapter 9: : Chapter 8

Bradshaw holds his assault rifle loosely as we stand watch. My eyes are already heavy but we’re only a few hours in. It’s darker with the cloud cover tonight. Even the forest creatures are quiet under the grimness of it.

He hasn’t said a word since our scuffle earlier. I shut my eyes for a moment. It’s better this way. I’d rather be detached in case something happens on a real mission. I tried to be friendly with him, but he wants nothing to do with me.

“I think I heard something,” Bradshaw whispers, the sound of his voice sends chills down my spine. My eyes snap open and I’m instantly alert, but I don’t hear anything.

“Where?” I say back in a hushed tone. He nods straight ahead and I take the lead, walking slowly and looking in every direction for any sign of danger. I stop once I get twenty feet from our post. “I don’t see anyone, it’s clear⁠—”

A foot plants squarely on the center of my back and I’m forced to the ground. I break the fall with my forearms but pain shoots through my body regardless. My thoughts whirl.

I look up and find Bradshaw standing above me, Jefferson and Pete to either side of him. Horror sinks deep into my chest. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl as I try to get up, giving them a chance to say this is a joke and not what I think it is.

The second I’m on my knees, Bradshaw shoves my shoulders back and I’m flat on the ground again, only this time he straddles me, pinning my torso and arms to the ground with his body weight.

I wriggle desperately beneath him. Fear threads through my bones, increasing my breaths, making them strangled and raspy. “Two assaults in one day? You’re a fucking productive psychopath,” I shout viciously before spitting in his face. My heart beats rapidly against my ribs and the only thing I can see are Bradshaw’s harrowing pale blue eyes. He ignores me but Jefferson and Pete share a mildly concerned look like they aren’t completely onboard with whatever he’s talked them into doing.

I try to focus on the anger. Fear makes you irrational, at least anger is a bit more grounding. I take a deep breath and calm myself. He hasn’t done anything yet. Maybe he won’t do anything. They’re just trying to scare me.

Bradshaw leans forward and draws his KA-BAR. A real one. It’s a black military-grade knife meant for plunging into other human beings’ chests.

The blood drains from my face.

“Are you going to quit?” Bradshaw asks with no remorse in his voice. It’s clear he isn’t playing a prank, but I don’t let my resolve falter.

Rage returns, fueling my words. At this point, it’s fucking personal. “No. Now get the fuck off of me,” I demand.

If he’s fazed by my words he doesn’t show it. Jefferson kneels beside my head and Pete holds my ankles down firmly.

Terror spills into my chest and I shriek, “What are you—” Jefferson’s hands come down over my mouth, muffling any sound from escaping my lips.

Adrenaline rushes through me and I thrash against them hard. I fight for my life, for my next breath. They’re going to kill me? All because I won’t quit? What the hell is wrong with them? My attempt to escape is useless; they have me pinned like a lamb for slaughter. Bradshaw brings his knife back up, sliding the flat side of it down over the softness of my stomach, searing the cold steel across my skin.

I try bucking him off and crying for help, kicking my feet desperately. Then cold air meets my sternum and it freezes every fighting limb I have—the very blood in my veins too.

My breath is rapid, feral. Tears spill down the sides of my face as Bradshaw unzips my vest. He drags the knife down my shirt, cutting through the fabric and my sports bra with ease, exposing my breasts to the chilly night air. My nipples harden and horror settles deep into my bones.

I attempt to bite into Jefferson’s hand but his other one keeps my jaw shut tight. A muffled scream grows in my throat and I try once more to thrash as hard as I can. All their eyes are on my bare nipples. Shame floods me and I want to beat each of them senseless.

Why are they doing this? This is worse than anything Riøt ever did.

Tears make my vision blurry and my energy fades quickly. My mind is shutting off and going into survival mode.

I lie still and let my body go limp. My labored breathing is the only sound that rolls through the dark.

Bradshaw stares down at me with empty eyes. He doesn’t care what he’s doing to me or the impact this will have on my mental state. I keep my eyes locked with his, refusing to let go of the one thing I have left, my death glare.

He chuckles, brows pinching together as if he pities me.

“Still fighting? Damn, you are a tough one.” Bradshaw brings the edge of his dagger to my right side, to the sensitive flesh just under my breast. He pushes the sharp tip in and I scream out against Jefferson’s sweaty palm. The pain is a rush to my system but more than the pain, I feel Bradshaw’s tender hand squeezing my ribs to steady himself. His crotch over mine is too hot and suddenly the fear that laced my blood has turned into arousal.

This is so fucked up.

My scream turns to a moan and Bradshaw’s eyes catch mine, not missing a single detail of how my body responds to him and the pain. God, I hope the other two are too aloof to notice. I shouldn’t be turned on by this, no, I’m not turned on by this. I bite my lower lip to quell the next rising moan.

Jefferson jolts and says, “Bones, you said we were just going to scare her. This is too far.” He looks uncertainly from Bradshaw to Pete.

Pete’s grip on my ankles falters. “You’re hurting her!” his voice sounds genuinely shocked and worried. Thank God for them not hearing the pleasure in my moans.

Bradshaw ignores them both, keeping his devilish eyes on me and glides the blade in a crescent motion agonizingly slow, following the shape of my breast. I writhe and buck my hips. The pain gives me a high while his lustful eyes, gripping hands, and swelling crotch set my nerves ablaze. He dips his head down, pulls his mask up only enough to bare his lips, and takes my nipple between his teeth before bringing his lips down on my flesh and pressing one lonesome kiss there.

He stops the incision at the tip of my sternum.

Tears fall down the sides of my temples from the pain and shame, but mostly from the cruelty of all three of them.

Hot blood warms my skin as it races down my side and pools in the dirt. Jefferson releases my mouth and shoves Bradshaw off me. “Goddammit,” Jefferson curses under his breath as he folds the vest back over my chest carefully to cover me up. His hands are trembling. He lifts me up quickly in his arms as if I weigh nothing and rushes me back to the base. As he carries my limp, tired body, I can only stare behind him at Bradshaw, who still watches me like an unfinished meal. I bet he’s smiling underneath that mask of his.

I bet he thinks he broke me.