Page 47 of Vicious Luna
“This’ll show Knox that he’s not as untouchable as he thinks he is, eh?” Griff muses as he positions himself on top of me, pinning down the lower half of my body while his friend restrains my arms by twisting them painfully over my head.
Terror floods my veins, my throat tightening until I can hardly breathe. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what their next move will be, and I’d rather die than get raped by these psychopaths. I scream out in rage, in terror, in pain from the way Griff's knees are digging into my upper thighs. I thrash harder when he starts tearing at my clothes, shredding the fabric and groping my body.
“No!” I yell, voice cracking as panic swells in my chest. Then he unbuttons his pants and lowers his zipper, and that’s when I really fucking lose it. I can’t breathe, can’t think- I’m drowning in my own panic, and even though my wolf isn’t strong enough for a shift, she starts clawing at the inside of my chest, trying her damndest to break through to save me.
“The fuck is wrong with her eyes?” Griff grumbles as he reaches into his boxers.
My wolf strains to get free while I gasp for air, throat constricting as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, shoving them apart.
My heart pounds loudly in my ears as my vision starts to blacken.
Then suddenly, the weight on top of me is gone. It happens so fast that I can barely register what’s happening, but Cam’s in the cell, and he’s ripped both men off of me and flung them to the floor like ragdolls. I sit up and scurry to the corner of my cot, curling in on myself while Cam brandishes a handgun and stands over my assailants like the grim reaper come to collect a debt. Without even blinking, he pops off two shots in quick succession and they light up the cell like twin lightning strikes, my ears ringing from the reverb. Then...silence.
“Fuck,” Cam mutters under his breath, staring at the lifeless bodies on the floor as he shoves the pistol back into the waistband of his jeans. “I didn’t… they shouldn’t have…” his incoherent mumbling trails off as he slowly turns his head to look at me, gaze dropping to take in the tattered shreds of clothing hanging off my body before lifting to meet mine. “Are you okay?” he rasps, taking a step toward me. “Did they…?”
I flinch back on instinct and he freezes in his tracks, eyes rounding in concern. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him, and it punches me right in the gut.
“I’m fine,” I grit out, hugging my knees tighter to my chest.
I’m definitelynotfine, but those are the only words I canseem to muster. I mean, I was just attacked, almost raped, then witnessed a double murder. My brain’s not exactly functioning on all cylinders here.
Cam swings his gaze back toward the bodies on the floor, glaring down at the corpses of his comrades like he wishes he could kill them all over again. Sorta sweet, sorta psycho, but who am I to judge when the guy just saved me from being sexually assaulted? He’s no hero by any stretch of the imagination, but if he hadn’t shown up when he did… I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened.
“Fuck,” he growls again, scrubbing a hand down his face. Then he steps closer to the bodies and leans over, threading his arms underneath Griff’s lifeless ones and hauling him up to drag his corpse across the cell and out the door.
I don’t know where he takes it. I just sit there frozen, staring at the tops of my knees while he removes the dead bodies of my attackers, then returns with a mop and a bucket. The smell of bleach assaults my nostrils as he begins methodically cleaning the blood off the floor of my cell, and even though the door’s still standing open, I don’t make any move to run. The two men Cam just killed only prove that the monsters lurking beyond the basement door are far worse than the ones down here.
My panic starts to ebb, but my mind won’t stop spinning. Cam executed both of those men without batting an eye. He clearly has violent tendencies, but he’s never aimed them toward me. Notyetat least.
Has my honey trap been so effective that he’ll take out his own people in my defense? Or has he been playing me all along, working his own angle to endear me to him?
Will I be on the other end of his next bullet?
He carries the mop and bucket out of the cell once he’s done cleaning the blood off the floor, and I finally climb up from the cot to stand on shaky legs. Slowly, I tiptoe over to theopen doorway, pausing in the threshold to peer out into the hall.
Cam emerges from the darkness at the far end, his eyes blazing with intensity when they meet mine. Marching determinedly in my direction, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head, the defined muscles of his bare chest rippling as he stalks closer. The myriad of monochromatic tattoos almost look like they’re dancing on his bronze skin, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him shirtless.
He stops short in front of me, silently extending an arm and holding the shirt out in offering. I eye him warily as I reach out to take it, then back away, quickly discarding the remains of my old shirt to slip his on instead. It’s way too big, the hem brushing my mid-thigh. Still, it’s amazing how much better it makes me feel to be wearing something that actually covers me up. I’ve never had a problem with nudity, but after that attack, I feel disgustingly exposed.
Cam stands outside the cell door like a statue, staring at me as I sweep my hair out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Are you...?”
“I'm fine,” I blurt, cutting him off.
He snaps his mouth closed and gives me a single nod, reaching into the cell to grip the bars of the door and swing it closed. I flinch at the metallic clang, watching as he turns the key that’s still dangling from the lock before pulling it out and slipping it into his pocket. Then he turns around, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he sidesteps and sinks down to sit on the floor outside my cell, resting his bare back against the bars with a heavy sigh.
I just stand there in stunned silence, wringing my hands in front of me while my brain works overtime to reconcile the two sides of Cam I’ve come to know. The cold, detached hunter who has threatened my family and is keeping me locked up, versus the man who talked me down from a panicattack in the shower; the one who just killed two others to spare me from their assault.
Which one’s the real him?
Maybe both. I suppose it doesn’t really matter either way, since he’s on that side of the bars and I’m on this one. Whichever man he is, we’re still fundamentally at odds with one another.
“I’m surprised you didn’t join them,” I mutter bitterly, glaring at the back of his head.
He makes a scoffing sound in his throat. “I’m not a fucking rapist,” he grumbles.
“Just a warden, then?”
He doesn’t respond. Another heavy silence settles between us, but it lacks the tension of the first. It’s almost…peaceful. The calm after the storm.