“Wrong.” Master A’s hand whitened around the gun. “She’s mine, asshole. I won’t ask again.”

Mr. Prest didn’t budge. He just crossed his arms.

I tiptoed from behind him, wanting to be in position to either run or kneel—needing to do something to cease this tense situation.

Master A changed tactics. His blue eyes smiled cruelly as he swung the gun’s muzzle from the interloper to me.

I stiffened.

“You have something I want, Mr. Prest. Count yourself fucking lucky because if you didn’t, I would’ve shot you the moment you took my Pimlico. However, wanting something is your issue, too.”

I gasped as everything blackened with impending murder.

The sinister hole where a bullet would fire hypnotised me. I couldn’t look away.

If this were the most humane way it would end, so be it. I’d had my first proper kiss. I’d been treated well for the first time in years. If this was the epilogue on my awful, awful story, I was fine with that.

My muscles relaxed, ready to accept the tearing, lacerating, excruciating lead.

Please, let it be a clean shot.

“You want this whore.” Master A waggled the weapon. “You want her enough to keep her alive. I’ll gladly fucking kill her if it makes you obey our deal.”

Do it.

Get it over with.

Mr. Prest’s face turned monstrous. “You’d kill your own slave rather than give me a few more hours?”

“Absolutely.” His reply was instantaneous. “So, what’s it gonna be? Her or you. I’ve been tolerant enough. She needs a fucking shower to rid your filth and then a reminder who she belongs to.”

Just shoot me.

I didn’t want a reminder. I didn’t want anyone touching me ever again.

Mr. Prest glowered. “You’re a cunt.”

Master A bared his teeth. “What’s it gonna be?”

“You won’t do it.”

“I won’t?” His forehead furrowed with rage. “You want me to fucking prove it?”

He’ll do it.

Maybe, that was Mr. Prest’s plan? To have me shot so he could walk away, knowing I wouldn’t suffer anymore? He said he wouldn’t care about my treatment—that we all had personal demons to bear.

It was merciful to dispatch me this way.

Master A stomped toward me and fisted my hair, jerking me close. “Let’s see how much she bleeds, shall we?”

Mr. Prest took a step, forgetting himself as fury coated his features. “Get your hands off her.”

The cool threat of death lodged against my temple as Master A grunted, “My patience is done.” He stabbed me harder with the gun.

The tang of metal shot up my nose.

“Say goodbye to the whore. Keep your fucking yacht, I don’t—”

“Stop!” Mr. Prest dropped his arms, splaying his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill her.” His gaze locked on mine, full of livid acrimony and apology. “You’ve just made the worst mistake of your life, Alrik Åsbjörn.”

The gun twisted against my head. The round bruise numbed my skull where a bullet would ricochet and end me.

“Wrong, Elder. You did. Give me what I want—what I motherfucking paid for—and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

Mr. Prest laughed. The sound landed aggressively on the floor, smoking with icy mirth and arctic promises. “Fourth time you used my name.” Storming forward, he snapped, “You’ve just fucked me off, Alrik and that is not a good thing to fucking do.”

Swiping his blazer and t-shirt from the carpet, he gave me a look. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could watch you die. But I won’t. Your life is yours and I won’t meddle in it anymore.”

He shook his head. “So much for more firsts, Pim. I’m sorry.”

Master A’s red face flowed like lava as he harpooned the air with the gun. “Out!”

“You’ll regret this.” Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, watching him from murderous eyes. “I’ll make you curse everything that you are.” Pointing a finger at me, he snarled, “Don’t fucking hurt her. It’s my fault—not hers. Let me fix my own mistakes.” Throwing me one last unreadable look, he vanished out the door.

Wait, you can’t go!

The moment he’d disappeared, Master A smirked. “I guess I won that, huh? Shit, that makes me hard.” He kissed my cheek. “Get in the shower. I have something special planned for you.” With the threat lingering in the air, he pushed me away and followed his unwanted guest, leaving me alone with Tony.

Tony—the asshole who’d shared me too many times—blew me a heinous kiss. “Do what he says, sweetie. The games will begin as soon as that bastard is gone.” He turned to go, then paused. A loud cackle fell from his lips. Bending over, he scooped up the knife Mr. Prest had stolen from the garage.

My heart sank even further into quicksand.

Shit.

Tony whipped around, tapping the blade against the baseball bat he’d beaten the door with. “Hiding contraband now, sweetness?” His chuckle sickened me. “We’ll just add that to the tally of your bad behaviour and make sure you learn your lesson.”

He saluted me with the knife. “See you soon.”

He left.

His steps echoed as he skipped down the stairs, cracking the baseball bat on the banister.

A panic attack swooped in on killing wings, suffocating me instantly.