My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape

My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape by Marita A. Hansen Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape by Marita A. Hansen Read Free Book Online
Authors: Marita A. Hansen
Tags: thriller, Erótica, sex slaves, capture, fbi, italian mafia, kidnapped, agents, non consent, psychosexual
They won’t
give it to you.”
    “ They
will once they find out Frano’s not even a D’Angelo, and since he’s
being a prick, I don’t care if he finds out anymore.”
    “ What are you
talking about?”
    “ His father
was my mother’s lover.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “ My father’s
the one who told me. And now that prick’s dead, I’m claiming my
inheritance.”
    “ No!” Jagger
went for Alberto , a gunshot stopping him in his tracks. His eyes
shot to me, fear coloring his face.
    I touched my neck and looked
down at my hand. Blood smeared it, the bullet having grazed my
flesh.
    “ That was a
warning shot,” Alberto said, “the next one will hit the jugular.
So, get your ass downstairs. Now!”
    Jagger grabbed my arm and
yanked me along with him. With Alberto following us, we headed down
to the slave cells, walking right back into captivity. Alberto
smiled at us from the other side of the door, then pulled it shut,
locking us in.
    Jagger groaned. “From one
prison to another.”
    “ Frano will
help you,” I said, not confident in that, knowing he was walking into a
snake pit at the Donatelli.
    Jagger breathed out, his
expression sad, his eyes even sadder. “That’s if he’s even alive.”
He looked up
at the ceiling as though talking to God. “This can’t be happening,
I can’t take Alberto anymore.” He dropped his gaze, giving me a
pleading look. “Kill me.”
    I shook my
head.
    He screwed up his face.
“Please.”
    “ I can’t,” I
said, feeling uncomfortable, his expression so familiar, his eyes
... that pleading. It hurt and not just because I felt sorry for
him, no, I wanted to protect him, had always wanted to protect
him. Where
the hell did that come from? I thought.
    “ Then if you
won’t, I’ll make Alberto kill me,” he snapped, his face turning
angry. “I’ll push him so hard he loses his temper, because
anything’s better than existing like this.”
    “ Just
calm down,” I said, reaching for him.
    He hit my hands away. “Don’t
touch me!”
    I lowered my hands. “We escaped
from the Donatelli, we’ll escape from him too.”
    He shook his head. “I will never escape
him—other than through death. Like the Padre , he has ruined me.” He closed his eyes.
“Even when he’s not here, I can see him,” he ran a hand down his
stomach, “and feel him.”
    “ I
understand how you feel—”
    His eyes snapped
open . “You
can’t!”
    “ I do,
and you’ll get through this.”
    “ The priest
trying to drown you isn’t the same thing. I was eleven when he
first raped me. Eleven!”
    “ I was
sixteen when he raped me.” I froze, those words coming out of
nowhere.
    Jagger’s face dropped.
“What did you say?”
    I stared at him, confusion
taking over me as the memory flooded my mind. The priest was raping
me, pushing his cock inside of me, making me bleed, scream, and
cry. He was too big, the man laughing as he split me in two. I’d
fallen unconscious during it, then had woken up with my head being
pushed under water. A male voice had screamed at him to let me go,
that he would do anything if they just let me go. And the priest
had—literally, allowing my body to drift away on the lake. No, it
wasn’t a lake, it was a river, because the flow had taken a hold of
my body, battering it against rocks, until someone had pulled me
out. A mouth had touched mine, breathing air back into my body. I
had coughed out the water, then had opened my eyes and looked up at
a kind face: my foster father’s.
    Looking concerned,
he’ d brushed
my wet hair aside, the name that fell from his lips stunning
me.
    Jagger grabbed my arms,
snapping me out of the memory. “What did y ou say?” he asked, his face filled
with concern.
    I stared up at him, remembering
everything and not understanding any of it. He’d been a skinny boy
the last time I’d seen him. I’d gone to his room to give him his
sixteenth birthday present, but he’d wanted something else instead.
He’d kissed me,

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