Chapter 140

[ 519 words ]

Chapter 140:

A loud, sharp ripping sound cut through the quiet bedroom. The cotton fabric shredded along its front seam, the stitching giving way under the brutal force of his single hand. Three small plastic buttons snapped off the thread and bounced across the carpet. His right arm never moved from its rigid position at his side.

The freezing air of the bedroom instantly hit Caroline’s exposed chest and stomach.

She gasped loudly. The sudden, violent destruction of the clothing triggered her plan.

While Jarrod’s broad shoulders completely blocked the overhead light, creating a visual blind spot, Caroline slid her right hand down to her thigh.

𝖲𝗁𝘢𝗋𝘦 𝘺𝗼𝘂𝘳 𝘁𝗁𝗈𝘶𝗀h𝗍s о𝗇 gа𝗹𝗇𝗈𝘃еlѕ.𝘤𝗼𝘮

Her conscious mind went blank, but a forgotten part of her, a voice from a life she was forced to forget, screamed a single, desperate command. Her body moved on its own, a puppet pulled by the strings of brutal training. She found the cluster of sensitive nerves on her inner thigh. Using an interrogation resistance technique designed to override pain, she reversed the application. She pinched the soft flesh with brutal, merciless force.

A blinding flash of pure, physiological agony shot straight into her brain.

The pain immediately forced thick, hot tears into her eyes.

Caroline let out a high, broken whimper. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated terror.

Heavy tears spilled over her eyelashes. They tracked rapidly down her cheeks and soaked directly into the dark gray pillowcase beneath her head.

She pulled her knees up to her chest. Her hands flew up, her fingers gripping the torn edges of the blue shirt in a death grip. She forced her shoulders to shake violently, mimicking a severe post-traumatic stress reaction.

Jarrod froze.

He felt the hot, wet drop of her tear hit his cheek. His entire body went completely rigid.

He snapped his head up.

His pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks. He stared at her pale, tear-stained face. He saw the absolute, raw panic in her wide gray eyes. He saw her trembling hands clutching the ruined shirt against her chest.

The dark, consuming lust in his eyes died in a fraction of a second.

It was replaced by a wave of absolute, paralyzing shock.

Jarrod pushed off the mattress as if the silk sheets had suddenly caught fire. He threw his weight backward, stumbling until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed frame.

His chest heaved. His breathing was harsh and ragged in the quiet room. He stared at his own left hand, then back at her trembling form. A look of pure, suffocating self-loathing crashed over his sharp features.

Jarrod stood frozen at the edge of the bed. His large hands shot up and gripped the sides of his head. His fingers dug deeply into his dark hair.

His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow jerks. He looked like a man waking up inside a nightmare.

He stared at Caroline. She was curled into a tight ball in the center of the massive bed, her shoulders still shaking violently.

Jarrod swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

He took a half-step forward.

“Caroline,” Jarrod croaked. His voice was completely shredded. It sounded like he was swallowing broken glass. “I am sorry.”

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