27

Bella drifted in and out of consciousness. Her hands had gone numb, the metal cuffs cutting deeply into her wrists as her body shook from the cold and pain. The stench of burning flesh lingered in the air, infiltrating her nostrils and causing her stomach to turn. Since she hadn't had anything to eat or drink in who knows how long, nothing came out when she heaved.

The worst part, aside from the pain and humiliation Dwyer had already put her through, was imagining what he was doing to her mother. Renee was pure and innocent, a free spirit who lived for her art, creating beauty and grace in every piece she created. She didn't deserve to be beaten, raped, and tortured just because he knew it would hurt Bella.

She couldn't comprehend why Dwyer was obsessed with her. Was it really because she'd been the one to stop and arrest Marcus Henderson? How could he feel an allegiance to the man who had raped and tortured him as a small child? Was Dwyer suffering from Stockham Syndrome, too? Had Henderson brainwashed him?

Or was he just born evil?

Her head had dropped toward her chest when she heard the eerie grind of the door opening. Bella tried to look behind her, but the weight against her wrists was too much. A low, creepy chuckle sent shivers up her spine, and a moment later, Dwyer was before her. His chest was bare, but there were red, angry scratch marks on the top right, and lower right side and along his neck.

His jeans were unbuttoned, but the zipper was up. He was barefoot, his hair a mess, and his face red and sweaty.

God, she hated him, she thought. Hated every part of him.

"That took longer than I expected, my love. Your mother's a fighter, I will admit that. She did not make it easy on me. But then again, they never do."

Bella pressed her lips together, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words hurt her. He got off on her reactions and feelings, and she had to stay strong if she had any hope of getting out of here alive. Even though, at the moment, that seemed unlikely.

Dwyer smirked before he gripped her hips, pressing the front of his body against hers before he lifted her upward, removing her from the metal hook. Her arms dropped onto the top of his head. She tried to grip his hair, but her fingers were numb, and she couldn't get a good hold. She brought her knee up, hitting him in the gut, which turned out to be a stupid move because he threw her forcefully against the wall.

Bella screamed as her face slammed against the cement surface. She tried to scramble to her feet, but the pain shooting up her calves had her dropping to her knees. Dwyer grabbed the back of her hair, dragging her across the floor toward the disgusting, dry-blood-covered mattress. Bella threw her hands up, clawing at his arms as he flopped her down, backhanding her across the face. She cried out, tasting the blood filling her mouth. She spit it into his face, spattering the red crimson across his cheeks and nose.

"Fuck, I was hoping you weren't going to make it easy on me," he taunted, placing his foot over the brand mark on her stomach before he reached for the zipper on his pants.

Bella threaded her fingers together before she brought her hands and the cuffs down against his knee. He cursed as he fell backward, limping long enough for Bella to twist onto her hands and knees. She tried to reach the door, but Dwyer was on her before she could get more than a few feet. He wrapped his arm around her throat while the other encased her body, holding her arms against her front.

She screamed, but when he tightened his arm around her neck, the sound was muted. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he pulled her up and back, completely cutting off her air supply.

"I'm not done with you yet, whore," he whispered against her ear as her head flopped against him and her eyes started to close.

Just as she once again found herself losing consciousness, she felt him lay her against the mattress and saw his hand reaching for the front of his pants.

—

Bella groaned, her head tilting to the side as her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her stomach, her arms tucked under her. Though her entire body hurt, she managed to roll onto her back, pain searing through her as she shifted so she was sitting up, leaning against the wall. Bringing her hands up in front of her, she glanced around the bunker, releasing a sigh of relief, realizing she was alone. Dwyer had taken the cuffs off her wrists, but they'd cut deeply into her skin. So deep, she could see bone. She was naked and cold, and every part of her body that she could see was black and blue.

Even in her confused state, she realized that added to the moldy, dirt smell from before was a mixture of burning flesh and cigarette smoke. Her stomach coiled, and she struggled to keep from vomiting.

Tears sprinkled down her cheeks as she tried to bring her knees up to her chest to cover herself, but the pain from where he'd cut her Achilles Tendon made it impossible. She looked for her clothes, unsurprised to find them missing. Dwyer would have made sure she knew he was in control, and there was no denying that he was still playing his evil game.

Using the back of her hand, she tried to wipe the moisture from her skin, finding her palm covered in flaky blood, which did nothing to keep her from openly sobbing even harder. She felt helpless and weak — feelings she had never allowed herself to entertain before.

. . . Not even when Garrett was murdered.

Bella couldn't stop herself from thinking about what Dwyer had told her. How he'd claimed to have sexually assaulted him before putting the barrel of a gun against his forehead and pulling the trigger. She hadn't been strong enough to read his autopsy report herself, but her father had told her it was quick and painless; that he hadn't suffered. That's what he'd told her. But had Charlie Swan lied? Had he kept that information to himself?

Once more, the grinding noise she had come to hate had Bella tensing, and she watched Dwyer waltz in with an arrogance that made her sick to her stomach. He smiled as he closed the door, leaning against it for a moment before walking over to her.

Dwyer knelt by the edge of the mattress, his hands coming to rest on his knees. "I underestimated you, my love. I should have expected you to fight as hard as you did. That's my fault, and I take full responsibility for that, but I can assure you I won't make that mistake again."

Bella didn't reply.

Dwyer smiled. "Your mother wanted me to tell you something. Do you want to hear it?"

Tears filled her eyes once again.

"No? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway." He laughed. "She said you should have been stronger."

Bella's lips trembled. "No, she didn't."

"You don't believe me?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't think you would." Dwyer reached into his back pocket and slipped a small, silver-handheld recorder into his hand. He turned it toward her before pressing the play button.

For a moment, there was nothing but awkward silence, and then she heard her. Her screams and her pleas for him to stop. The sound of him striking her, or worse.

"Tell her," she heard Dwyer say. "Tell her how it's her fault you're here, whore."

"It's her fault," Renee cried. "It's all her fault!"

"And why is it her fault?"

"Because . . . because she ran away. Like a coward. She was supposed to be stronger, braver. I didn't raise her to give up on everyone like she did, but she left, and you had no choice but to hurt those girls. Their deaths — all their deaths — are her fault."

Dwyer pressed the stop button, tossing the recorder onto the floor. "I'd play you the rest, but I don't think you need to hear how she pleaded for her life. Begged me to spare her."

Bella's body rocked with emotions.

"Oh, my love, I made it quick. Well, quicker than it was for my other whores, at least. She . . . Well, there's a reason why I like my girls young and spry," he added with a wink. "Her body couldn't take as much as you, as any of them, and . . . Well, I'm sure your father will find her soon enough. Not you, though. No, he won't find you for a long, long time, my love."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Do you want to see the pictures? I mean, you know how much I love photography."

"You killed her?"

"No, no, of course not," he denied, shaking his head. "Her heart just gave out while we were . . . Well, making love. She went peacefully, my love."

"You're a monster."

Dwyer grinned. "Why, thank you, my love. You say the sweetest things," he snickered before reaching for her ankles.

His fingers dug into the cuts, and she clamped her lips together to keep from screaming as he dragged her toward him. She curled her fingers into a fist, and mustering as much strength as she had, she swung for him.

However, Dwyer was expecting it, and grabbed her fist, forcing her arm down against the mattress. He maneuvered his body over hers, pinning her against the filthy cushion. His eyes darkened as they roamed down her bare chest to the scorching wound on her abdomen.

"I've fantasized so many times what my mark would look like on your creamy skin. None of my whores compared to you, though I did enjoy the . . . um . . . shall we call it the release they gave me?"

"You brutalized them," Bella gritted through clenched teeth. "You tore apart their souls, their bodies, and when they had nothing left to fight for, you made sure their families would never, ever be able to move on."

Dwyer tilted his head to the side. "Their families? They should have protected them instead of leaving them vulnerable to men like me. You should have protected them by playing the game."

"Like your parents did?" she asked. "They didn't protect you from Marcus Henderson, did they? How long was he bringing you into this place and raping you until they realized why you peed the bed at night? Why you screamed from nightmares so real, so terrifying, you started to question what was real and what was inside your head?"

His playful demeanor changed in an instant. "He loves me. He fucking loves me!"

"He doesn't love anybody," she challenged. "He's incapable of love, and so are you. Face it, Dwyer, you're nothing but a worthless piece of shit who will die alone."

"Too bad you won't be alive long enough for me to prove otherwise." Dwyer leaned down, pressing his lips against her ear. "You'll be seeing your husband soon enough, my love. But first, I'm going to take what's mine."

And before she could stop him, his lips were covering hers. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, which was a huge mistake. She clamped her teeth down as hard as she could, causing him to cry out and yank himself away from her. His fist connected with her left jaw before she could prepare, and pain shot through her head.

He grabbed her face, turning her back to look at him. "You're going to learn to submit, whore. One way or another."

"Never!" she cried.

And mustering more power than she thought she had, she kicked her leg up, hitting him in the back of the head, sending him flying into the wall behind her. She scrambled onto her hands and knees and tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her foot and started pulling her back. She turned and kicked him in the face, causing him to release her. Though she knew the pain would be excruciating, she found her footing and started toward the door.

Dwyer tackled her from behind, rolling them until they hit the workbench. The metal truck, the Ping-Pong paddle, the football, and the pile of discarded clothes toppled on top of them, but Dwyer swatted them away before he punched her in the stomach, right on the spot where he had branded her.

Bella threw her fingers upward as she gasped for air, feeling them connect with his eyes. She shoved them as hard as she could before managing to wiggle from beneath him. But as he had before, he grabbed her hair and slung her toward the back of the bunker. She fell, rolling several feet before coming to a stop on her back. When she turned toward Dwyer, her eyes caught sight of something, and she knew she had to reach quickly.

She twisted onto her knees and threw herself on the object, grabbing it just as Dwyer once more wrapped his fingers around her foot. As she turned onto her back, she pulled the trigger and watched as the blue flame came in contact with his face, waving it from side to side to burn as much as she could.

The sounds of Dwyer's screams as he tried to cover his face, particularly his nose and eyes, echoed throughout the room. He fell backward, his body tense and rigid. She went at him with the torch once more, but his arm flew out, striking her across the face, and she fell, the left side of her head making contact with the corner of the workbench. The torch flew out of her hand, hitting the wall with a thud.

As Bella rolled from her side onto her back, she saw Dwyer scrambling to his feet, glaring down at her with red, oozing burns around his eyes, down his cheeks, and across his nose. His chest was heaving, his hands curled into tight fists.

He looked horrified and stood stark still as if he were stuck in quicksand. Bella couldn't move either; there was just too much pain. As he stalked toward her, the door to the bunker was thrown open, and Bella looked over, finding Edward rushing inside with his gun pointed directly at Phillp Dwyer.

Dwyer's lips warped into a smile just seconds before Edward pulled the trigger once, jerking him backward as the bullet entered his left shoulder. As the man crumbled to his knees, blood seeped down his bare chest from the bullet wound, and he looked at Bella before he fell forward, landing with a deafening thud.

Edward knelt next to Bella as her eyes closed, and she allowed the darkness to take over, unsure if she would ever wake again.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Big thank you to Sunflower Fran for being an awesome beta! If you haven't joined her group, It All Started with Twilight, on Facebook, do it now!