Chapter 4

The moment my eyes fluttered open, David was staring at me—calm, composed, with that same twisted glint in his eyes.

“Awake?” he asked casually, like this was just another normal morning.

My pulse spiked. I looked around the car, heart thudding, panic clawing at my chest.

“What... what are you going to do?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made my skin crawl.

“I told you—I’m taking you to meet my friends.”

Like this was some casual dinner party. Like I wasn’t dressed in a skintight dress that wasn’t mine, after waking up from being knocked out.

Rage surged through me. Without thinking, I lunged and sank my teeth into his neck—hard.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t fight back.

He just sat there, eyes boring into mine, silent as the metallic tang of his blood touched my lips. I bit down harder. He let me. Almost like he liked it.

Eventually, I pulled away, panting. Blood dripped down his neck.

David simply wiped the corner of my mouth, eyes glinting.

“Why are you acting like a feral kitten?” he said softly, as if he were amused.

I glared at him, fury radiating from every pore.

“Aren’t you afraid the Whitmoor family will make you pay for this?”

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

“Afraid of what? We’re engaged. What I do with you is just... a little lovers’ play. Who’s gonna interfere? Our families are too entangled now to tear apart.”

My stomach twisted.

Ten minutes later, I was dragged into a dimly lit private room at some exclusive club—thick with smoke, booze, and the stench of testosterone and cruelty.

And then I saw her.

Celia Davis.

She was curled elegantly on a velvet couch in a barely-there dress, looking like the queen of this disgusting circus. Her lips curled into a mocking smile the moment she saw me.

The room was packed with men. All of them looked at me like I was fresh meat tossed to hungry wolves.

One of them chuckled. “Damn, isn’t this the girl from those viral photos?”

Another whistled. “Looks even better in person. Soft skin, perfect curves… David’s really been holding out on us.”

A chorus of low, vulgar laughter followed. I stood frozen, my head still spinning, nausea bubbling up in my gut.

Then someone shoved me. Hard.

I stumbled and hit the ground with a dull thud, the room spinning around me. That only seemed to excite them more.

“Delicate,” someone sneered. “Falls so easily. Must be easy to bend in other ways too.”

“Slut,” another muttered. “Wonder who’ll get to taste her first.”

I lifted my head and shot a cold, deadly glare around the room. “All of you—get the hell out.”

More laughter. Like I was some kind of joke.

David yanked me to my feet with a rough jerk. “They’re my friends. They’re just joking. Don’t cause a scene.”

I looked at him, pale and shaking, but still furious. His idea of a joke was watching me humiliated.

Then Celia sauntered over, hips swaying like she was on a damn runway. She looped her arm around David’s like she owned him.

“Why are you so angry, sweetheart?” she purred. “We’re treating you like one of our own. You just don’t know how to take a joke.”

I turned to her, voice ice-cold.

“Oh? So do they call you a slut too? Do they grope you like a party favor?”

She froze. Her smile cracked.

Then—SLAP.

My head snapped to the side from the force of it.

I lunged forward, ready to claw her face off, but David grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. The breath left my lungs.

And then—pain. Searing, sharp, agonizing pain.

Celia had ground her stiletto heel into the back of my hand. Once. Twice. Again.

I screamed and tried to pull away, but more hands pinned me down. Cold, leering, disgusting hands.

Celia leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear, voice venomous.

“So what if you’re the Whitmoor family’s darling? If I want to destroy you, it’s child’s play.”

Then she stepped back and smiled at the room.

“Well? You all wanted a show. Strip her. Let’s see what the fuss is about.”

Cheers. Laughter. Movement.

I thrashed. Screamed. Begged.

I looked at David—he was standing in the corner, watching. No remorse. No hesitation.

“Please,” I sobbed, “don’t let them touch me. Please, I’ll do anything—just stop them.”

He walked over and crouched in front of me, gripping my chin between his fingers. His eyes were dark, cruel.

“What happened to all that fire, sweetheart? Didn’t you threaten me with the Whitmoor family just moments ago?”

“Let’s see how they react when they find out what happened to their perfect daughter.”

He smiled. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I can’t touch you… but I can let them. Maybe they’ll give you what I can’t.”

I couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t David anymore. This was a monster. A demon in expensive clothes.

I was trembling, sobbing, but my fear was turning into something else—something colder. Sharper.

Hatred.

I swore to myself—I would burn him to the ground if it was the last thing I did.

All around me were disgusting words, sickening hands. Celia’s shrill laughter echoed in my ears.

I closed my eyes. I thought it was over.

Then—BANG.

The door slammed open. Blinding lights flooded the room. Voices shouted. Footsteps thundered in.

And just like that, everything changed.