Shackled (The Lord Series) by Amy T
Chatper 137
Olivia
I try to do as he asks and get onto my knees before forcing myself to stand, but I fall again, hitting my head against
the wall.
Jasper rushes inside the bathroom. “I said help her wash, not kill her,” he says as he steps inside the shower. “What the f**k!? This is freezing.”
Tyson shrugs. “I thought cold water was good for people with a fever.”
Jasper mutters something under his breath as he takes me out of the shower and has me sit on the toilet. My shirt is soaked and cold, and it clings to me like a second skin, and I wrap my arms around myself.
“She is going to die sooner or later; I don’t see the point in dragging out the inevitable,” says Tyson.
Me either.
Jasper goes to check the temperature of the water. “You already know why.”
“If you think that by f**king her and posting videos of her and her nasty p**sy all over social media, we will finally be able to take down Senator Deymar, you are delusional. That man doesn’t give a f**k about her. He will even deny she is his daughter.”
Tyson is not wrong about my father, although he might get a heart attack if his career as a politician is ruined.
“You think that didn’t cross my mind? We will have Cirro look into the evidence once he is done with that job for the
Elders,” says Jasper.
What evidence?
Except for my birth certificate, there is little proof of me living with my parents while growing up. There had been a handful of times when I was allowed to be part of the family photos, and I am sure my mother had thrown them out already as she always hated the color of my hair. ‘Red is for whores,’ she used to say, although my hair is auburn, it was the same thing for her. Guess she was right in the end, I am a wh ore.
“Whatever. Like I said last night, I don’t want any part in this sh it,” Tyson says and leaves.
Jasper lets out a loud sigh before returning to me. “Do you need to use the toilet?”
I shake my head. He removes his clothes, then mine.
“Don’t mind Tyson. He always gets like this when he is editing one of his books,” he says as he takes me to the shower.
The water is warm enough to stop me from shaking.
Jasper is gentle as he cleans my hair.
nice to me, but men don’t like it when women are noisy, so
Olivia
when I am forced to think or to feel, and I miss
and looks at my wrist. “No matter
to find some
are not into that sh it, and as I mentioned before, you are never going to
I whisper. “I
be clean and look healthy in the sex video we
letting him know I am willing to take part in their absurd plan of taking down my father. It’s not like I
“But you will still look like a living corpse. I don’t want the Dukes to think we are only
about how I look?
s*x s lave, and he would not ca re what happens to you, but once you are healthy and radiant, looking absolutely smitten
one wants me. I am damaged goods. A look at my scars and it is enough for
“Do you know what kintsugi is?” I shake my head. “It’s an old Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold.” Tracing a scar I have below my belly button, he adds, “Your scars, once healed,
of gold will fix
talking, “When we film you being railed by us, making you scream our names, those watching the videos will know you
your woman? You can always f**k
same.” Probably noticing I am still confused, he adds, “You
dried, Jasper takes me back to the room. Clean sheets and a new blanket
am sorry for getting it
of the bed, then goes to the closet and takes a t-shirt from inside. “I flipped the mattress upside down,” he
in my a ss, but I do as I am told. When he tries to restrain me again, I say, “Please, I will go absolutely in sane if I have to
214
Olivia
want to be free of drugs! Not that it matters what I want. It never does. “I will
not hungry,” I
Jasper says
close my eyes and try to sleep because I feel like I have been hit by a train. With a bit of luck, Jasper will forget about me. Besides, even
dry. Water would be nice but do I
minutes
chest hurts even
feels more like I am on a boat in
I close my eyes.
opens, and
pretend to be
voice reaches my ears. Why does he
Christmas. The last time I celebrated it was wi th Camila and her family. I miss her so much, each passing second is an agony without her. “Merry Christmas to you too,” I whisper, while I don’t feel ‘merry’ at all. In fact, I rarely feel anything anymore. It’s better this way, as
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