Chapter 81 Hurt
RORY POV
Sitting here is like being trapped in a lion's den.
Alexander has some nerve leaving me with these people. The way they track my every move makes my skin crawl, I can feel their eyes digging into me, stripping me bare. It feels like they're just waiting for the signal to kill me.
Just how much did Alexander do to these monsters?
"Are you okay, Aurora?" the elderly one asked.
The way my name rolled out of his mouth made my stomach churn. It sounded like a threat-completely different from the dark, comforting chill I get when Alexander says it.
"I'm-I'm okay, thank you," I stuttered. I hated how my voice betrayed me. They know I’m scared of them — the fear in my voice gave it away. My eyes clashed with his, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
I genuinely understood why Alexander had brought all those weapons.
I couldn't do this. I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I ne-need to get a drink..." I stammered, the pressure of their presence suffocating me. I didn't wait for a response; I just walked away.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and downed it in one go. I almost cursed out loud with the way the alcohol burned my throat. I looked around the whole place, too many things going on in one night, the reality of this "party" finally hit me. It was a circus of depravity.
Some people were having sex in the open, not that it was any of my business. But at the corner there were some men sniffing cocaine from some women’s breasts. The men were clothed in expensive suits but the women were completely naked, lying on the tables like decorations while men sniffed lines off their breasts, stomachs, and even their pussies.
In another area, some men sat down like they were kings while naked women fed them with food from their hands.
They don’t have hands or what?
What sort of barbaric behavior is this?
I whipped my head around. I couldn’t stand it.
I continued walking but I barely made it two steps when a voice called behind me.
“Looks like it’s not your kind of party, Mrs Aurora.”
I turned around. It was the same man from earlier — the eldest one, Jarule.
Alexander's warning boomed in my head: Don't talk to anyone. Walk away.
I didn't answer. I just kept walking, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He grabbed my hand and yanked me back with force. “I’m talking to you, Anastasia.”
The change in his tone was deadly. My name was gone, replaced by a ghost's. I remained silent, looking him up and down, trying to maintain a mask of calm even as my insides turned to lead.
"Are you comfortable with our party?" he asked, leaning into my space.
I shook my head, my jaw tight.
"You seem uncomfortable. Aren't you just a whore? Alexander's whore."
I wanted to slap the life out of him. Sensing the disgust on my face, he motioned toward the girls on the table. "What, Alexander doesn't do that with you?"
Why in the hell would Alexander do that to anyone?
I didn’t answer him still. I started walking away and the bastard had the nerve to trail behind me.
"Looks like our new wife is not like Anastasia.
You won't even talk back. What a silent, dutiful wife. My bad for mistaking you for her... that woman was a fighter."
Something in that comparison snapped. A spark of hot, jagged rage ignited in me. I wanted to beat the crap out of this old man, even if it meant my death.
"I'm not a whore," | bit back, my voice was low and lethal. "If you call me that one more time, I'll make sure Alexander cuts off your fingers in the most agonizing way."
I bit back harshly. My brows furrowed when he started laughing like a maniac. This man is sick in the head.
"Looks like you might be more than I thought," he said, his face suddenly turning ice-cold.
I opened my mouth to retort, but suddenly a hand gripped mine and yanked me back so hard I nearly lost my footing.
"Stay away from my whore, Jarule. I don't share, no matter how low-quality the package might be.”
He said, dragging me away. I don’t know which one stung more, if it’s the arm that’s gripping me brutally or that he had called me his low-quality whore.
I tried yanking my hand back from him but he didn’t budge. When we got to the table we were sitting at earlier, he forced me onto my seat and sneered in my ear.
“You’ve got yourself in some trouble, Aurora.”
He pulled back and took his seat as if nothing had happened.
"I find your wife interesting, Miller. Do you love her?" Jarule asked, leaning forward with a shark-like grin.
Alexander scoffed, the sound cold and dismissive. "Why should I?"
Why should I?
The words felt like a physical blade through my heart.
"I mean, she could easily pass as your dead wife," Jarule said, tipping his glass.
"She's nothing but a warm pussy I bury my dick inside while I moan my wife's name,"
Alexander replied.
The pain was blinding. To be addressed like an object, degraded just to elevate the memory of a dead woman... I wanted to die right there.
The table erupted in laughter-men and women alike mocking me while my vision blurred with tears. One escaped, trailing down my cheek, and I couldn't stop it.
"He's still grieving... must be hard on the poor girl," Jarule said, his eyes feasting on my misery. "Looks like the little kitten was already catching feelings."
"She dares not," Alexander said, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. He turned toward me, his hand sliding under the table and onto my thigh. He pushed my dress up, his touch possessive and cold. "Right, Aurora?"
Jarule laughed again. "When you're done grieving Anastasia and you don't need this whore anymore, pass her to me. I could use a third wife."
The way he looked at me made me feel like I was already a corpse.
"Very well. You'll have her," Alexander assured him.
I couldn’t breathe.
His fingers pushed further under my dress and I shoved his hand away and stood up from the chair so fast the seat scraped back behind me.
He can go straight to hell.
“Aurora. Sit down.”
I didn't answer. I turned to run, but in a flash, Alexander was on me. I let out a yelp as he hoisted me up, carrying me back to the table.
With one brutal move, he cleared the plates and threw me on top of it. I gasped as my back hit the cold wood, and the sound of a leather belt unbuckling echoed through the silent room.