Breaker (Unmasked #3)

10. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Cora

I think I may have gone into auto-pilot again. White walls flash past. The marble railing along the massive staircase and the white figurines on stands along the wall are just a blur as we walk down the hall. The blue runner under my feet, nothing but a hazy mist of patterns as Rune takes me to my old room.

When we reach the door, he throws it open and shoves me through. My teeth gnash together when he closes the door, the quiet click of the latch catching crashing through the silence.

“How many of them did you let touch you?” Rune says, one hand still on the doorknob, another flattened to his red tie, hatred making his breathing ragged.

Fear slides like ice through my veins.

“How many of them did you let fuck you?”

I shake my head as I step back, aware of the fact he’s angry because I allowed them to touch me. I think he’s scared that I may have liked it a little too much. Enjoyed myself and their every touch. Rune knows I only spread my legs for him to stop him from hurting me. And here, I willingly slept with the men he hates.

Rune steps forward. I slide a step back. His strangled voice and barely contained rage makes fear and horror weave around my lungs like thorny vines. “You fucked those four men in my club like a fucking whore.”

The way the last word hisses out from him makes me wish the helicopter had fucking crashed.

“You’re so much like your mother.”

The words hurt more than they should. I hated my mother, but Rune hated her more. To the point he murdered her and my father. Yet for him to tell me I’m just like her, stings. He’s implied it. Let his hatred for her bleed into me, but he’s never said it. Not out loud.

His hatred for Caroline Julian, for the men, piled on top of all the things he’s done, are going to ruin me.

If I let them.

“Is that why you like me so much, Papa ?“ My voice turns to honey, but every word feels jagged, knowing they’re going to cut me in the end. “Did you fuck her traitorous cunt like you fuck mine?”

He reels back, hand drawing up into a fist, and I brace myself for it, yet it doesn’t come. The pain of his hit remains clenched in his fist as he lets his hand drop to his side.

“Is she ready?”

Over Rune’s shoulder I see Clyde slipping into the room, and then a familiar face in the doorway. I start, so confused that I shake my head.

“Dr. Morgan?” I ask, my heart picking up pace. “Why is my gynecologist here?”

Clyde steps next to me, placing his hand on my lower back. The touch hits me as harsh as a kick to my spine as the realization settles.

I turn to Rune. “You have got to be kidding me.”

His jaw pops, but he says nothing.

When I look back at Dr. Morgan, he at least has the decency to look ashamed.

Rune gestures to the bed behind me. “Lie down.”

I turn, gaze landing on the bed. Horror floods my veins. I shake my head, light trembling starting in my hands. “No.”

He’s going to have me examined on my childhood bed. How many nights have I spent in this bed with Delly laughing, telling secrets? How many nights did she climb under the covers with me, promising to keep me safe from the nightmares that kept me awake at night? From the demons in my head?

I turn back around, facing Clyde, my socks catching on the thick shag carpeting. “Tell him no.”

He looks away.

Fucking coward.

I turn back to Rune. Why? I have no clue. He doesn’t give a fuck about my protests. Only if my body is fit to use again. God forbid I got an STD, or worse, pregnant. That would take far longer than an antibiotic to resolve before he could fuck me again.

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice shakes. I take another step back. Rune grabs my arm so tight I wince.

“Lie down,” Rune says. “They had you for three fucking weeks. After they violated you in my fucking club.”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. I don’t need an exam. I’m fine.” I gesture to my dress, my body. “See? I’m not hurt.”

Clyde moves up next to me, and grips my hand, pulling me toward the bed. My sweater that I’ve been holding falls to the floor and he leans down to pick it up. He bends, pausing slightly, like he’s seeing it and me for the first time. As Clyde stands, he takes in my appearance. How tightly knit and warm the sweater and how I’m still slightly plump in all the wrong places. That I’m not cowering or covered in bruises or scars.

I wonder if he can see all the things that Rune clearly can.

“You’re telling me you didn’t fuck the four men who held you?” Rune asks, keeping his eyes locked on my mouth. I don’t know what my face does, but I know it must give me away because he makes a sound in his throat and points to the bed again.

A violent shiver moves through my body as I step forward. I know if I don’t do as I’m told, they’ll make me. That’s what Rune does. Forces. Takes.

My legs tremble as I sit on the edge. I wait for him to turn and leave, but Rune doesn’t move.

My brows knit. I glance at Clyde, whose eyes fall to the floor.

“You need to remove your underwear,” Morgan says. “Then lie back.”

My eyes fly back up to Rune at my feet, then over to Clyde on the other side of my room, gaze stormy but looking over my shoulder instead of at me.

They’re not planning on leaving. They’re going to watch. Rune’s going to make sure that the exam is done.

My chin quivers. Dr. Morgan shoots me an apologetic smile as he pulls the small wooden stool from my vanity and pats the bed behind me. I lie back, clutching the cold, stiff comforter, turning my face away so Rune doesn’t see the tear slip past.

I feel myself splintering, fading away. Someone, I think Dr Morgan says something, and then tells me to bend my legs. My dress is lifted, then a blanket is draped over my knees. An icy hand touches my hip, and my underwear slips down my thighs. I clench my jaw, biting back a scream, the flood of tears building behind my eyes, threatening to break loose.

My legs shake as his chilly hand slides up my inner thigh and he gently eases my legs apart.

I’ve been violated so much, in so many ways throughout my life, that any touch that isn’t completely welcome feels like an invasion of my soul. And right now, feeling Rune’s penetrating gaze on me as Morgan examines my body, feels like the worst violation yet.

The cold plastic of the instrument and then the pinch of pain makes me gasp. My mind blanks.

“Did they fuck her?” Rune asks.

I feel Morgan stop moving and sense more than see him turn to Rune at his side. “That’s not something I can tell. But there are no signs of trauma, if that’s what you mean.”

Rune makes a sound in his throat. Something like disgust, or maybe he’s filing the information away for later. Dr. Morgan asks me several questions about my cycle, Rune interrupting every few minutes to ask some invasive question, and again if they touched me. he tells me he’s going to take a blood sample as well, and I don’t fight it. There’s no point. When he’s done collecting samples, Morgan pats my leg and tells me to relax.

“Are you sure?” Morgan asks.

I take in a breath, trying to refocus, stretching my legs out as I adjust my dress and the blanket over my thighs, doing my best to ignore the hollowness between my legs.

“Yes,” Rune says.

“Can it wait?” I hear Clyde ask, and how his words leave him, all cracked and battered, makes me turn my head to look at him.

“It’s part of the deal.” Rune strides across the room, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

“What deal?” I ask, trying to sit up, but Morgan’s hand lands on my chest, pushing me down, less gentle this time.

“It will take about a week for her system to be regulated after it’s removed,” Morgan tells Rune. “But it’s still possible even as early as tomorrow.”

I wave my hand. “Hello. After what’s removed?”

Rune glances at Clyde. “Hold her down.”

Alarm bells sound in my head, my heart kicking in my chest. I open my mouth to ask them what the fuck he means when I see the scalpel in Morgan’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, but the question rings in the room like a high-pitched scream.

“The only way to remove it, is surgically,” Morgan says, and pulls my left arm out, placing my hand on his lap.

Understanding dawns on me.

“It’s only a year old.” Panic needles my cheeks, makes my skin flush and beads of sweat form. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, as Clyde grasps my wrist, his other hand holding my shoulder down, keeping my arm pinned to the bed.

This isn’t happening.

“You said it lasts years,” I shriek. “They couldn’t get me pregnant. It’s working just fine.”

“You said they didn’t touch you while you were there,” Rune says so coldly, my entire body goes still. His menacing stare returns to Morgan. “Take it out.”

My attempt to jerk my arm away is useless as Clyde pins my arm to the bed and shoves my shoulder harder into the mattress. Morgan pinches the thin rod under the skin of my inner arm, so it’s outlined under my flesh.

“But I don’t want it out.” I say, even as he presses the scalpel to my skin.

The wires in my head cross, malfunctioning. I am about to ask about a numbing injection, and why he’s not administering one, why they want the birth control implant removed, when pain shoots like molten fire through my arm, cutting off all thoughts.

Words.

I scream. My arm jerks. Feet thrash. Rune grips my ankles pinning it to the bed. Clyde’s dark eyes collide with mine. Remorse clouds them and he looks away as his grip tightens.

The blade cuts deeper, digging under the flesh. Angling. Searching.

“Almost,” Morgan says, but his voice sounds muffled, like I’m underwater.

I’m drowning in pain. Not just the scalpel digging under my flesh, but from the betrayal.

“Clyde.” My voice is a whimper.

The scalpel twists. “Hold still, it slipped. I have to make the incision longer.”

I buck, my hips leaving the bed.

“Got it.”

I don’t know what happens next. I can’t see past my tears. Past the pain. The knowledge that I have so little control over my life or my body.

And the fact they sent me back to this.

He promised. They promised, I say over and over as Morgan sticks the needle through my flesh, sewing the small wound closed.