Page 22 of Capo

“No. I can’t. I’d be killed.” She suddenly puts her lips to mine, in the lightest of kisses. “What’s your name?”

“Chloe.”

Rose nods. “Chloe, I’ll pray for you.” She collects more soap. “Spread your legs.”

I fight the tears as I obey. It’s almost as if I’m already conditioned to follow orders, as if my body isn’t my own anymore. She lathers along my belly and then dips in between my legs, her eyes dart to mine as her fingers slide along my slit.

“You’re wet. Oh my God. I’m so sorry. That whole fucking show was for you, to fuck with you.” She removes her hand and carefully lays her arms around me, hugging me, pressing her naked breasts to mine. It’s both sensual and friendly at the same time.

“I can’t do this,” I choke out, burying my face in her nape. “I can’t be here.”

“I need to go,” she says and abruptly takes a step back. “I won’t forget you, Chloe.” She turns on her heels, rips a towel off a hanger and disappears out the door as she wraps it around herself.

The door falls closed, and I’m left in the warm stream, with my bruises, my now useless cast, aching, and with invisible chains tightening around my chest. I gulp down a sob, but the next one tears loose from my throat and I can’t keep the panic at bay any longer. I fall to my knees and wail, gasping for air in between the barely human sounds that erupt from the depths of my soul, mourning my lost life.

I never heard the door open and flinch hard when I suddenly look at a pair of legs. Glancing up at the man before me, my eyes meet with the impassive gaze of Ivan, the giant door guard.

“Come,” he says.