Chapter 8
The steel door slammed behind her as Summer was shoved into the cell.
Her leg, hastily bandaged, was already soaked in blood.
She limped forward, pale and trembling, trying to find somewhere to sit.
Just as she placed her hand on the wall for support, a heavy basin smashed into her face from above.
A group of women laughed as they approached.
One of them kicked her wounded leg, hard.
“Ugh-!” Summer collapsed to her knees.
Another yanked her hair violently, pain shooting across her scalp like fire–but she bit it back.
“Well, look at that. Queen Summer’s not so high and mighty anymore,
huh?”
“Bet you haven’t heard the good news–Mr. Wilder said we could earn our freedom if we just ‘teach
you some manners.‘
Her brain went completely blank.
Wilder really did it.
For Grace Caldwell, he sent people to discipline her.
But the pain on her scalp couldn’t compare to what she felt in her chest.
When she didn’t respond, they shoved a towel into her mouth, then yanked hard on her hair-
tearing a whole chunk of scalp free.
Two of them pinned her down as the rest kicked her in the stomach and between her legs.
Seeing blood trail down her leg, they dragged her limp body to the iron bars, pulled her arms apart -and crack–wrenched them viciously.
Veins bulged across her forehead. The pain was so sharp she nearly smashed her own head into the wall just to make it stop.
Before she could move, they slammed her skull into the concrete floor again and again.
The torture lasted three days.
When they finally dragged her out, they tossed her outside like a piece of roadkill.
Chapter B
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One of the guards nudged her body with a boot.
“Mr. Wilder said Miss Caldwell hasn’t slept in three days because of you. He wants you to apologize to her tomorrow. Got it?”
And just like that, she walked off.
Summer couldn’t even form words anymore.
Every inch of her body screamed with pain, and tears spilled down her face without permission.
While she suffered like hell for three days, Wilder was busy comforting Grace for her insomnia.
The sun beat down on her broken body–she couldn’t even stand.
Ben arrived seconds later, rushing toward her in disbelief.
“Summer! Who the hell did this to you?!”
He loaded his gun, ready to storm the building.
But Summer reached out and grabbed his shirt with the last of her strength.
Her voice, ruined by boiling water and blood, rasped like metal scraping bone.
“Take me… Take me to this address…”
Ben didn’t hesitate.
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at a private airfield.
A crew was already waiting. They rushed to take Summer from Ben’s arms.
“You should come with us too,” one of them said.
Ben clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
He shook his head.
For twelve years, he’d watched Summer stand by Wilder’s side, shield him, bleed for him, survive hell for him.
And this was the price she paid.
“Just get her out of here,” Ben said through gritted teeth. “And never let her come back to this goddamn place.”
