AN: There WILL be rape themes and a general description in this chapter. If you don't like it, don't read anything beyond thepage breaktowards the end of the chap.

Thank you.


She sat at the bar on a stool, twirling around slowly. No one was really talking to her. Why would they? She wasn't drinking, and she wouldn't buy anyone else a drink. She was just a space filler. Only now she didn't even have the sense to at least observe, make the most of not being noticed.

A girl, Roxie, one of the girls that Jack had met through Hope, staggered over to her and plopped down on a stool beside her.

Roxie was raging drunk, and looked depressed to boot. For a long moment she simply stared at the surface of the bar, her long, blonde, messy hair falling into her face in frazzled clumps.

Finally she looked up, eyeing Jack through the veil of her mussed hair, almost glaring at her. "You know, what I can't figure out, is why you're letting her use you. I thought if anyone could see through Hope it would be you. I thought you were smarter than that, Jack," she hiccupped loudly, then quickly brought her voice down, as though she were afraid someone would overhear her.

Jack merely raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean? Hope and I are friends, she's really nice to me..."

"Oh bull-fucking-shit, Jack! Hope's using you! She's using you to run her drug money in envelopes between kids during school, so if anyone gets caught she won't have to take the heat. She can just dump it all on you. And in case you didn't notice, this entire bar is filled with people from our class, if they're eighteen or not. Hope rented it out and paid off the staff all because tonight is Shane Connell's big 'welcome home' bash. He just got back from wherever his rich ass parents sent him, and anyone who's anyone in the senior class is here tonight. I'll be absolutely amazed if there isn't at least one suicide reported in the paper tomorrow morning because some girl didn't get invited and she was just sure that meant her life was over."

Jack only shook her head, taking a drink of Hydrite. "I still don't get it, what's all that have to do with me? I was practically shoved out of my house tonight. I didn't care if I went to this party or not."

Roxie rocked slightly on her stool, and for a moment Jack was sure she was going to fall off it backwards. Grabbing the edge of the bar at the last second, she steadied herself, hiccupping again. "The point is, Jack, that Shane is Hope's ex. They were a hot item from Freshman year until last spring, when he left her for Abigail Moore. You know Abby, don't you? Hope hangs out with her all the time, almost to the point of being her lapdog. Whenever she does anything with Abby she takes you along with her; so you should know her."

Jack nodded, still absently turning herself back and forth in her chair. She knew Abby. Not well, necessarily. But well enough to know that she was a nice girl. "So Hope sucks up to the new girlfriend. I still don't see how she's setting me up."

Roxie leaned in closer, at last lowering her voice so that no one else would be able to hear what she said but Jack. "Listen, honey. If I were you right now, I'd get the hell out of this place as fast as I could. Because by the end of the night, Hope's going to tell Shane that while he was off nearly pissing himself in his grandma's fruit cellar, you and Abby were getting extremely hot and heavy. She's going to make it out to be like you two were involved with each other to spite him, and that you both spend all of your time laughing at how 'inadequate' he was. And since she's best friends with both of you, who's to say she's lying? Especially when most of her little brat pack backs up the story, swearing on whatever's handy that everything Hope says is as true as the day is long.

"You should already know that Shane isn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, he'll believe anything if enough people tell him it's true. It isn't exactly his brain that Hope's after. She wants him because he's rich. He gave her everything she ever desired while they were together, and she got to be the brains behind every little scam and illegal activity he and his gang ever pulled off. You starting to catch on now? She's going to set you up, you're going to take the fall so she can get him back."

Something constricted in Jack's chest, but her mind refused to be moved by this turn of events, refused to be brought back to sharpness from the comfortable haze it had fallen into. Instead of sharpening up and casually looking around to check out the exits, her eyes simply glazed over a little bit more. "Hope wouldn't do that, Roxie. She's my friend. Besides, why would you warn me?" she asked, desperate to rationalize what she was hearing.

Roxie only rolled her eyes. "You sure you haven't been smoking some of Hope's weed? I'm doing this because when Hope tells Shane how macho you've been about stealing his girlfriend away from him, just like you were when you publicly humiliated him the first day of school, he's going to use it as an excuse to kill you. You're going to be wearing a gigantic red target on your back before this party is over, and this time the end result won't be some little fist fight. They'll probably murder you, drag you to an alley, and then blame it on The Flame Stalker. They'll say that you were being initiated into their gang and the Vipers had you killed. Things like that have happened before around here, Jack, believe me. If your parents have enough money, you can get away with anything around here. And I mean anything. Get out of here, Jackie, get out right now. Go home."

Roxie had been more than a little tipsy, and upon finishing her confession she had to jump up from her stool and run for the bathroom. Jack just sat there, watching her go, and wondered just briefly if she should pay heed to her warning.

It's crazy, there's no way. Just forget it, Jack, she's only trying to scare you off. She's probably just jealous that you're better friends with Hope than she is.

Her reasoning made far more sense than the nutty story she'd just been presented with, and Jack decided that she wouldn't be made into a victim. She would stay, and then Hope or one of her other new friends would give her a ride home before it got too late. Or even better, perhaps one of them would have a slumber party for the whole group of them. For now, she could just sit back, relax, and wonder why the guy next to her was staring at her like she was a choice piece of meat...

Jack turned a little more, taking note of the dark man she'd finally noticed was sitting on the opposite side of her stool than Roxie had been. How long had he been there?

"Excuse me, do I know you?" she asked, squinting at him. He looked familiar, but maybe it was just a trick of the dim lighting and the disco ball on the dance floor.

He smirked at her lack of memory. "Yeah, you know me, babe. I felt you up in a closet about a month and a half ago, and believe me, I never forget a pair of breasts."

Jack closed her eyes, nodding, remembering that incredibly embarrassing moment. Hadn't she felt good thinking back on that at some point? "Right, Dom. I remember you now," she said, absently tapping her temple with her index finger. "Sorry, the memory's a little fuzzy right now."

Inside Dom growled, pissed that he'd lost his inside contact. She'd gotten so close to completely trusting him, then she'd dropped off the radar. For a while he'd thought maybe he'd rushed it, scared her off once she'd gotten a chance to think about it. But he'd been following her for weeks, and now he knew it was even worse than that. It looked like somehow Shella had managed to dig her claws into the girl as well, just like she had done to Riddick.

He'd have to start all over again with her.

Should've known something like this might happen, Conte. First Riddick, now Jack. Wicked witch has some strong mojo she's setting loose. Better figure out what the fuck it is, and quick.

Of course, on the outside, his demeanor was still as cool and pleasant as ever. Sometimes he even amazed himself with his patience. He was going to need it after the work he'd put in on converting this girl into his little helper only to lose her totally and completely. "Yeah, don't worry about it, Jackie girl. This just means we can get to know each other all over again. Come on, let's go get a burger or something, hang out for a little while. I'll take you home later. Unless you'd rather stay..."

Even while he was suggesting the plan his eyes were scanning the room behind her. He quickly located the leader of the Flames, Shane Connell, who had just arrived and was already hanging on his girlfriend. Jack's friend, Hope, was looking like a young woman on the outs the way she was standing alone off in a corner by the emergency exit, staring daggers at anyone who came near. He paused his scan of the room momentarily, resting his attention on her.

Looks like someone's going to be experiencing a woman's scorn tonight. Just make sure it isn't Jack, and that's an order. His beast growled its indifference. For once it wasn't going to give him any problems while he was working. Just as long as it got what it wanted.

"Sorry, Dom isn't it? I don't eat meat anymore, and even if I did, I really don't know you that well and I'm not allowed to go off alone with strange men. Maybe we could go to the park or something tomorrow afternoon, would that be okay with you?" Jack asked, not particularly wanting to hurt this poor guy's feelings, but at the same time feeling an obligation to at least give him a little hope that he had a chance. Even if he didn't.

It took all of Dom's inner strength to not turn an annoyed gaze in her direction. It wasn't like the odds were very good she would've seen it even if he did. He was wearing his shades, as usual. But still, it was the principle of the thing. His control of his exterior had to be perfect at all times.

His interior, well...that was another story...

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! She wasn't even THIS bad when you first fucking met her! If I ever get done with this psychofuck job, that bitch is going to die in so many horrible ways for all she's done to fuck me up!

At last the beast began to growl inside him, just about fed up with being restrained. Dom wasn't exactly in the mood to keep it under wraps anymore that particular evening. By that time, he was all for the idea of throwing open the cage door and sitting back to see what happened.

He smiled at Jack, his sheep's clothing still successfully hiding the wolf clawing to get out. "You sure you don't wanna come with me, Jack? It'd probably be a lot more fun than sticking around with the junior badass team of the burbs." His eyes shifted once again, this time following the deft movements of the barkeep as he picked up Jack's drink and wiped underneath it, then set it back down. She didn't notice, but Dom noticed everything. Including the little white pill that had almost instantly dissolved in the crimson liquid.

Wonder who ordered that? Connell? Some other teenaged player wannabe trying to get laid tonight?

"Really?" she asked rhetorically, cocking an eyebrow. "The junior badass team of the burbs? And I suppose that you're the real deal, huh? Do you think you're bad, Dom?"

"To the bone," he half-growled, never taking his eyes off her drugged sports drink, until he slowly turned his gaze back to the spot where Hope was standing.

If Jack had been paying attention, she would've recognized the look of a predator when he's just spotted prey.

"Pfft." She rolled her eyes. "And just how many women has that cliché worked on for you?"

Conte completely ignored her comment. "Watch your drink," he warned shortly as he got up and stalked off stiffly in Hope Anderson's direction.
He was too busy, too distracted by the incredible, undeniable demands of the demon within him to worry about the job right then. He needed it hard, fast, and right fucking now. Taking care of Jack was secondary. It wouldn't be primary until he got back. He'd check on her later, when he could handle being around her while she was acting so fucking nutty.

Besides, he thought, wrapping one large paw tightly around Hope's thin neck and shoving her out the back door before she had the opportunity or the air to protest and attract any unwanted attention. Even if you lose the girl, it's not like it would be the end of the world. You'd find some other way to complete the mission.

You always do.


"Who are you?" the girl choked when he let her go, after he'd slammed her hard against the brick wall of the bar in the back alley, just restraining himself so he wouldn't knock her unconscious should her head crack on the hard surface.

Dom snarled inhumanly as he ripped her blouse open, baring her chest to the light of the planet's twin moons. A short backhand to the side of her head stopped any more attempts on her part to run, speak, or struggle. For the first time in her life, Hope had come up against a man capable of putting her in her place. A man who would totally and completely dominate her, if she wanted him to or not.

He leaned down when she quit squirming and resigned to merely cringe before him, barely touching any part of her as he inhaled her scent.

She didn't know who he was, or how he'd picked her...but when he took her hard without wanting or needing her consent she decided she liked him. She liked it that he didn't care if he hurt her, or if she thought he was good. She was at his fucking mercy, and if she had a problem with that it was her fucking problem.

Everywhere he touched her he left bruises. When she screamed in pain he reengaged his hold on her already damaged throat, squeezing until even her quietest whimpers ceased. And then he sqeezed even harder, until some part of her neck gave, popping loudly in protest.

It was strange, how so many people had called her a whore, even to her face, yet before that night she hadn't ever been treated like one. He didn't kiss her, didn't try to tell her he loved her when it was over. He just let her sag down to the pavement, her back still leaning against the wall, her eyes focused on nothing but him. She felt too tired and abused to move. It wasn't until then that she realized her clothes were as torn up as her insides. She wouldn't have been able to go back to the party even if she'd been able to crawl. It was the first time she'd ever bled like that.

Upon release most guys were sorry if they thought they'd been rough. But the business-like way in which he rearranged his clothes afterwards, and then stalked off without a second glance made it clear that he didn't play by the regular rules. He was neither sorry nor afraid of being caught. His confidence was complete. She doubted he cared about leaving her there, even if he knew he might be leaving her there to die. To be picked off by some other stalker in the night. He hadn't done it because he'd wanted her, hadn't done it to spite her, he'd done it because she was there. He'd done it because he could. In his eyes she wasn't popular, she wasn't a conquest or a trophy; she was a warm body to fuck and nothing more.

She fell into unconsciousness, still just thinking about that. And strangely enough, in the fevered dreams she had, he did it again. The strange part being that, to Hope, it wasn't a nightmare.