I grin up at him, knowing no matter what, Roman simply just can’t resist me, just like his brothers. They’ve destroyed and claimed something inside me, just as I intend to do to them. “I’ve never been better.”
And with that, I drop down beside Levi, take his drink right out of his hands, and throw it back as I feel their warm cum slowly seeping out of me.
20
Nerves rattle my body as Marcus leads me through their creepy little underground playground. Out of all the things I thought I was going to do today, this wasn’t it. Before he came and demanded that I take a walk with him, my day was supposed to consist of nothing but nursing my wicked hangover. Apparently, at twenty-two, I’m supposed to just shrug that shit off.
Asshole.
Perhaps my night of reckless drinking wasn’t my brightest idea, but I’m not going to lie, that rooftop certainly had its perks. Perks that I’ll be demanding to see again. I mean, once a girl has experienced all three of the DeAngelis brothers at once, there’s no going back. Normal one-on-one missionary sex is officially ruined for me, but if I’m being honest, it was ruined the first time Marcus put his hands on me down in that fucked-up little cell.
Sensing my nerves, Marcus places his hand on my lower back and leads me through the underground playground. It’s creepy as hell, and after shooting my father in the knee only a week and a half ago, I’d hoped I’d never have to come down here again. It’s cold and filled with the most horrendous kind of fluorescent lights that showcase every drop of dried blood on the ground. Hell, even the echo of our feet on the cold concrete is enough to send chills sweeping through my body.
We pass multiple empty cells, but when we start passing cells that are covered in blood splatter and dangling bodies, my stomach sinks. The deeper we get, the fuller it becomes with bloodied and bruised men calling out at me; some demanding freedom, some looking for water, while others call out abuse and sexist slurs. “What’s going on down here?” I murmur, keeping my voice so low that Marcus would have to strain to hear it. “All these people weren’t down here last week.”
His lips pull into a hard line and he nods. “I know,” he mutters. “It seems my father has been using our playground a little more than we’d realized. At least it explains why all of his men had been down here that night. He must be up to something. I bet those assholes weren’t expecting to see Roman out there like that.”
I nod, remembering it all too clearly. “He practically tore them to shreds,” I tell him. “I don’t get how he’s still alive. That many guards against just one man. It’s not possible.”
“When you’ve got the kind of training that we have,” he says, his gaze shifting over the cells with a sick desire, “anything is possible.”
“Cut it out,” I tell him, drawing his focus back to me and not all the things he’d like to do to his father’s prisoners. “We’re here to teach me how to shoot, not so you can start dreaming about all the wicked things you’d like to do.”
Marcus grins, his gaze darkening with excitement. “I know,” he tells me. “But wouldn’t it be better to learn to shoot with a real target? After all, shooting a stationary target is very different from the courage you need to actually shoot a human being.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “How old were you when you first shot someone?”
His face scrunches in thought as we continue walking past the rowdy prisoners. “Umm, maybe seven or eight,” he muses, watching my face as it morphs into horror. He laughs and drops his arm over my shoulder as though this is the most casual conversation we’d ever had, though I guess in his line of work, it kind of is. “It’s not what you think. I had been practicing shooting with Levi. Roman already knew what he was doing with a gun so he didn’t have to put in all those hours like we did, and it just … kinda happened. I didn’t mean to shoot him in the ass. It was an accident.”
“Wait,” I say, slowing my pace to focus on his eyes. “Who’d you shoot in the ass?”
He cringes and glances down at me, looking as though he’s breaking some kind of pact just by discussing this with me. “Roman,” he finally admits as an amused grin pulls at his lips. “He still has the scar, but I was sworn to the grave to never speak of it again.”
I can’t help but laugh and immediately feel guilty about it as I remember the prisoners around me. “What happened?”