Desperate Lies Read online

  It makes me smile.

  Langston may be my enemy, and he may be the devil, but he’s slipped through my defenses to wiggle a tiny piece of himself into my heart. I can’t help but care a little about the bastard.

  Plus, holding onto any positive thoughts of Langston for as long as I can will help me. Or it will twist him deeper into my soul and make me hate him more…

  “You have five minutes to prepare,” the familiar voice announces.

  I don’t need five minutes, but it gives me time to be in control.

  I reach behind my head, and I remove my mask, lying it carefully on the table. I kick off my heels, too. Unfortunately, I’m going to need Beckett’s help for the next part.

  “Can you help me unzip my dress?” I ask him.

  He stands frozen, looking at me like he thinks he just imagined me speaking. He’s probably in shock from what is on his card.

  I sigh, poor man.

  I walk over to him and take his card.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Saving you for the next five minutes.”

  I crinkle his card into a ball and toss it on the floor. It makes a satisfying bounce as it slides away from us. Then I take Beckett’s hand.

  “Help me, and I’ll help you.”

  He frowns.

  I smile.

  “The only thing I need help with is unzipping my dress.”

  “Did your card say…?”

  I shake my head. “My card didn’t say that I couldn’t undress before it starts. If it isn’t clearly on the card, then it’s fair game. Now, are you going to help me?”

  He nods.

  I release his hand and turn around, lifting my black hair up. I hate the stupid wig, but it’s necessary.

  I feel his cold hand graze my back as he unzips my dress.

  I turn back around and face him. “Thank you.”

  Then I shimmy out of the dress.

  Beckett trains his eyes on my face as I stand naked in front of him, which makes me grin even wider at his adorableness.

  “If you can’t handle looking at my naked body, you should just say your safe word and get out now,” I say.

  He shakes his head as he removes his jacket and then starts unbuttoning his shirt. It’s impressive how he can tackle things I take for granted with one hand. Everything is harder for him, doing everything one-handed.

  Finally, he’s naked in front of me too.

  I, unlike him, let my eyes explore his body. I see the painful-looking scar where his arm was cut. I see the wounds on his torso that mix with the ripples of his abs and V. His long toned legs. I even look at his cock. In a matter of minutes, it could be inside me; it’s only fair that I get to look at it. It’s a good cock—thick, long, and veiny. But I don’t get a thrill in my stomach looking at it. There is only one cock that has ever done that.

  I’m sick.

  “Say your safe word before this starts, Beckett. I don’t need you to protect me. Neither does Langston. If you do this, trust me, there is no going back to the life you had before. This will be your life. Everything will bring you back to this.”

  He frowns, and then he leans in, so there is no possible way the cameras could pick up his next words. “I’ll say my safe word, but only after I ensure you’re safe first.”

  “Why are you protecting me?” I breathe.

  “Langston will hate me if I don’t.”

  It’s because Langston asked him to, not because Beckett considers me part of the family. That is reserved for Langston.

  “I’m warning you, Beckett. You saw what the game did to Langston. It will do the same to you.”

  He gives me a smug smile and then holds out the stub that is all that is left of his arm. “I survived this. I can survive anything.”

  I hope he’s right.

  “The challenge begins now,” the haunting voice says. A voice I’ve tried to rid my brain of so many times, but it’s permanently etched into my ears.

  I look at Beckett, and he looks at me.

  No one enters the room, so I know what is on Beckett’s card, what his first task is.

  I won’t hate him for it, but I won’t be able to go near him after he does this. He’ll set off my worst nightmares like no one else can.

  I should make this easy on Beckett, but my body literally can’t. I know the rules, and I can do anything—fight, try to escape, anything. I just have to survive.

  I don’t know how long I have in here. As long as it takes to break me once again, that’s how long.

  “Please,” I whisper as Beckett takes a step toward me.

  He stops at my word, like he wasn’t expecting me to make this hard for him. He thought I’d submit. I’d let him tie me up, take all my senses away.

  He doesn’t know me at all if he thinks I’ll just take that. I can’t.

  I have to fight.

  I made a promise to myself I’d never stop fighting. I’d always be in control. I chose this game. I chose to be here. This isn’t rape. And yet, I’ll fight while they tie me up. I’ll fight while they do unthinkable things to my body. It’s the only way I can make sense of everything in my mind.

  “Beckett, please.”

  My eyes water—they won’t spill tears, but they’ll get close.

  His hand balls into a fist, his legs remain planted, his eyes dart side to side, trying to make sense of what I’m not saying.

  But then he takes a step.

  One single step toward me.

  I run.

  I know the door is locked, that it’s a waste to try and break the door down. I learned that the last time. The only way I survive this is to run and outsmart Beckett.

  I start running, knowing the smoke will start soon, which might assist me in hiding from him.

  The smoke creeps in, but all it does is make me break out in nervous hives—memories flood my head.

  Out!

  I stay focused on my goal—run until I can’t run anymore. I hope to find a bed, some piece of furniture I can use either as a weapon or to hide under while I make my next move.

  I find nothing.

  It will be exactly the same as before.

  You are strong.

  You are powerful.

  You are in control.

  You can block out all evil with your mind.

  I feel Beckett’s hand grab onto my hair.

  I was so close to getting caught. Luckily, I’m still wearing the black wig, so all Beckett grabs is the wig, and I keep running.

  That was too close.

  My time is running out.

  Beckett is better than the last man who chased me. He’s faster, smarter.

  I should give up.

  I can’t give up.

  I run.

  Run.

  RUN.

  My hair falls from the bun—loose and free. Something I’ll never be.

  It will be my downfall—I know it before it happens.

  I feel the tug on the back of my head, my feet stop in their tracks, and my body slings back as Beckett pulls me tight to his body, still holding on by my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “Me too,” I say back. I’m already broken. Technically, I’ve been broken since Enzo’s dad raped me. But it didn’t have to be this way for Beckett.

  He starts dragging me by the hair. I grab onto his hand with mine and sink my nails into him.

  He hisses but doesn’t release me.

  “You know you can save us both. Just say your safe word, and I’ll say mine as well,” Beckett moans in my ear as I feel little droplets of his blood dripping from his hand.

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “I don’t know my safe word. I won’t read it until the final round.”

  He gasps. “Fuck.”

  I feel him loosen his grasp, and I try to scramble away. My hair starts to slip through his fingers, almost to the end before he tightens his grip again.

  Beckett’s decisio
n has been made. He’ll do this for as long as he can, until he’s pushed to a limit that Langston would kill him for crossing.

  We both look at each other through the smoke. It’s the last moment that we aren’t truly enemies. From this moment on, we will hate each other. We will never be able to look at each other the same.

  I’m done begging. And he’s done talking.

  He yanks me hard until I fall to my knees, and then he resumes dragging me. Once again, I try to dig my nails into his hand, but I end up just grabbing onto his wrist to keep him from ripping my hair out as he drags me.

  Suddenly, he stops.

  I know why.

  Fear builds inside me like a windstorm. If only I had magical powers that would allow me to release the storm inside me on this room. I could destroy everything so much easier that way.

  I know Beckett has to release my hair to grab my arms, my legs. So I wait patiently for my moment.

  He releases.

  I try to run. I scramble onto my feet and start to dive.

  But he’s smarter than me. He anticipates my move and kicks my feet out from under me. As I’m falling, he grabs one arm and twists it behind my back so forcefully that he’s about to pop my shoulder out of its socket.

  I can feel the tears welling, the pain radiating through my arm and down my spine.

  “Give me your other hand,” he growls.

  No. I won’t give in.

  “Break my arm if you have to, but I won’t ever submit to you.”

  My other hand reaches out, trying to find the chains I know he plans to tie me to. Maybe if I grab one, I can use it as a weapon against him?

  I find a chain.

  I sling it as hard as I can at Beckett’s head.

  I feel the weight hit him.

  But he’s like me. He must be used to the pain. He doesn’t even react.

  Instead, he once again kicks my feet out from underneath me. I reach out with the hand he isn’t holding to try and catch myself from hitting the ground.

  No.

  I feel the cold metal clamping around my other hand.

  He won.

  I can keep fighting, but there is nothing I can do now. I can’t break the chains holding me.

  With one arm encapsulated, he grabs my arm on the floor and yanks me up. I try to kick, to fight, I even spit to try and get him to stop. He’s relentless.

  My free hand goes into the next handcuff over my head, and finally, my arms are locked in a wide V over my head.

  I get in several vicious kicks as he slides down my body and moves to grab my ankles. But I’m weak compared to him. He attaches a chain with a metal cuff to each ankle until my legs are spread apart, and I can’t move.

  And then he’s standing in front of me looking solemn. I know what comes next, and it’s the worst. He still won’t look beyond my eyes to my naked body. I stripped myself of clothes rather than have someone else strip me, but that was the only control over the situation I have.

  “Please,” I say, one last time.

  I can hear him swallow, hear the pain in his throat, see the heartbreak on his face. But he won’t stop.

  We both know it.

  Then I feel the gag against my mouth. I open—I’m the one making this decision, not him. He ties it tightly around the back of my head.

  One more sense gone.

  I can’t move.

  I can’t talk.

  I try to turn off my hearing before he places the earplugs into my ears, cutting off all sound.

  I can’t move.

  I can’t talk.

  I can’t hear.

  There is one step left, and it’s the worst of them all.

  I close my eyes—trying to gain my composure before the blindfold goes around my eyes. Once it’s on, I open my eyes. I can’t see anything.

  I can’t move.

  I can’t talk.

  I can’t hear.

  I can’t see.

  The only sense left is smell, and I’m pretty sure they’d cut that sense off too if there were another way for me to breathe.

  He’s taken everything from me. I no longer have any control over my body. The only thing I could do is try to cry out a safe word. That would get my gag removed long enough to see if I was using my safe word or not.

  But that would only be a temporary solution. Once they removed my gag, and I didn’t call out my safe word, they’d resume.

  I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to gain any knowledge of who is in the room or what’s going to happen next. I don’t smell anything except smoke. I never got a good whiff of Beckett, so I don’t know what he smells like. I’ll have no idea if he’s the one touching me or someone else.

  Right now, no one is touching me.

  The not knowing, the waiting—that’s the worst part of this all.

  I try to meditate in my head, but I’ve never been very good at meditating. I can feel my pulse rushing, my body warming, sweat bubbling on my forehead and neck.

  And then it starts.

  Hands…

  So many hands touching my body that I can’t keep track.

  Being sensory deprived like this makes it impossible to tune out the touching, the feeling. It all becomes more intensified. A light brush of a hand feels like a million nerve endings bursting. A rough grasp feels like a bone breaking. A slap feels like a gale-force wind hitting my face.

  I can’t anticipate a touch or a slap.

  I can’t decipher if the feelings are enjoyable or perverted.

  I can’t fight back.

  I’m helpless.

  The one place I never thought I’d be.

  Hands start invading my body. Gripping my breasts. Spreading my legs. Dipping into my pussy, my asshole.

  Make it stop.

  Make it all go away.

  Langston. Think about Langston. Think about what you are doing to him, for him. Think about all that you’ve lost. Think about who you are doing this for.

  18

  Langston

  I’m dragged out of the room by my arms. I don’t know where I’m being taken, and I don’t care. My mind is on a loop of all things Liesel.

  My brain has decided for the moment that Liesel’s snarky comments are my favorite thing about her, replaying her highlights.

  “One touch and your cock is as hard as steel.”

  “One kiss and I’m all you can think about.”

  “This is war, killer.”

  I smile at the last one.

  A door opens in front of me, and the men turn us sideways so we can all fit through. Then, I’m being shoved into a tub. Warm water and bath salts sting my back, but I don’t even have the energy to hiss or protest.

  “Stay in the water for at least a half-hour. It will help. To your left, there is a tray of food for you to eat and a remote to turn off the TV if you prefer not to watch. The next challenge starts in five minutes,” one of the men says.

  And then they leave.

  I tilt my head up. I’m in a bathroom, soaking in a large tub filled with bath salts that have started to soothe the ache on my back.

  Why do I feel so weak? I don’t remember them doing anything that should make me feel this terrible.

  I inhale and get a whiff of a burger.

  I turn to my left, and I find a gourmet looking burger, a milkshake, fries, a pizza, a salad, and some cake looking thing. I want it all.

  I grab the milkshake first, knowing I’ll be able to get those calories in with the least amount of effort. Then I can move to what my stomach is really craving: that damn burger.

  I suck down the milkshake. Within seconds, my headache is gone, and my head clears.

  I feel like I’ve been drugged, and the drugs are just starting to leave my system.

  Maybe I was?

  The screen in front of me starts flashing, and then I see the room I was just in. I cringe looking at it. I can’t watch whoever goes next.

  I see Liesel walk in, followed by Beckett, and I know I
won’t be able to tear my eyes away.

  I watch them read the cards.

  Please, just get out. I want to scream at them that it’s not worth it.

  Beckett’s hand is on the back of her dress, and he’s unzipping it.

  Motherfucker.

  I told him not to touch her, not to fuck her.

  The next thing I know, they are both naked, and I’m terrified. Why did they willingly get undressed?

  Why?

  WHY?

  Then, the monster’s voice starts the challenge.

  Liesel runs.

  Why is she running?

  Beckett chases her.

  There is so much smoke initially; it makes it hard to see. My own eyes begin to water just thinking about how it feels to be in that room.

  Then the smoke lessens as Beckett catches her.

  She keeps fighting.

  My Liesel.

  I’m so sorry.

  You are mine to play with. Mine to torture. Mine to kill.

  You owe me penance, not him.

  And yet, she’ll pay the price all the same unless she mutters her safe word.

  Save yourself.

  Save me.

  This is torture watching her suffer. It might be worse than going through it myself.

  I should turn the screen off. I can’t help her, and this will just hurt me. But I can’t leave her alone.

  We may be enemies, but she’s my enemy—mine. No one else gets to touch her.

  And then my heart stops. I wouldn’t be shocked if I died from a stroke or heart attack watching Beckett restrain her.

  My chest rages with pain; my heart thumps hard then slow, fast and quiet. It doesn’t know what to do; it’s just yelling at me to get my ass out of the water and go save her.

  But I can’t save her. Only she can save herself.

  Beckett has her tied, her arms and legs spread in the center of the room.

  She can handle this. She’s strong.

  And then I see what comes next.

  A gag around her mouth.

  Earplugs.

  A blindfold.

  She must be going crazy inside being so sensory deprived.

  I’m going to lose it.

  My chest pounds for her. I don’t know what I feel for Liesel other than possessiveness, and anger at her fucking sins.

  But this…