"On the ground," Ace instructs, his voice steady and low. I gawk at him, my eyes bugging from their sockets.
"You're kidd-"
"Do as he says," Viper mutters into his glass. I catch a couple of glances from men across the table, their gazes assessing...
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Wren
Once I gather myself and finish dinner, I plate everyone's food and set them on the table, my eyes avoiding Ace at all costs. After I finish setting the last plate down, Ace seems to have a power complex and grabs me, sitting me down forcefully and cuffing me to the table's leg as if I wasn't just walking around without restraints moments prior. He places the plate I made for myself in front of me with no fork, causing me to look up at him with confusion. He doesn't move, his eyes locked on me with a hint of humor.
"Sorry, we ran out of forks. Good thing you have hands." My eyes widen, and I stare back down at my plate, the laughs of the men around me pulling me deeper into the pit of humiliation I feel.
Asshole.
Heat crawls up my cheeks as I take a deep breath and bite back colorful insults. Without a choice, I dig my hands into the noodles and feed myself as messily as possible.
Spaghetti sauce smears across my chin and neck, but I don't give a fuck. If he wants to humiliate me, he will have to try harder. I've been beaten, chained up, spit at, and berated—this spaghetti is no match for me. He watches me from across the table, his eyes twinkling with delight. I know he has a smirk on his lips under that mask, and I wish I could see it so I could smack it from his face, leaving spaghetti sauce in my wake.
If the surrounding men care about the mess I'm making, they don't show it. Instead, they dig into their meals with greed. Why would they care? I'm the one who has to clean it.
I finish my meal in record time and sit back, pushing my plate away from me and toward Ace. I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe my face, exposing my flat stomach and the swell of the underside of my tits. His eyes flick down and flare with an emotion I can't read, and I smile.
Two can play this game, buddy.
"Delicious, right guys?" I say, looking between them. I wipe my hands across my shorts, wholly covered with spaghetti sauce. Ace sits back in his chair, his head cocking as he observes me. I challenge him, my eyes not leaving him.
"I think it's time you shower." He stands quickly and rounds the table, his boots thudding on the ground, making my heart jump. He unfastens the handcuffs and lifts me forcefully to my feet. I try to fight off his hands, but it's no use. I make a mess of his forearms, spreading sauce all over his shirt and chest as I attempt to push him away. It's a lost cause, and I should realize by now that once this man has me in his hold, there's no escaping it. He snatches the bag full of toiletries from the counter before he drags me down the hall while the men laugh from behind me as if they're thinking exactly what I am.
I feel a weight of dread fill the pit of my stomach like rocks as he opens the bathroom door and shoves me inside, causing me to stumble into the cabinet. I look up to see the bathroom window nailed shut and for good reason.
