Queen of Shadows Read Online Free Page A

kidneys, and she cried out from the pain. One of the men dropped to his knees and hit her in the face, hissing at her to keep quiet or she was dead. She saw the flash of a knife, felt the blade held to her throat. Don’t scream, don’t move. Do as we say and you get to live.
    She knew better.
    They pushed her onto her back, and she stared up at the storm clouds she could barely see between the buildings. It was raining hard, but neither she nor her attackers noticed the downpour.
    The night was hot and humid, but she felt cold when her clothes were ripped aside—cold, always cold.
    This is the way the world ends . . . not with a bang but a whimper.
    Zippers. Laughter. Hands shoving her legs apart.
    Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, but she was still, just staring blankly with dead eyes up past the shoulder of the first man who forced himself into her body. The pain was a thousand miles away, as were their voices. All she could feel was cold, and all she heard was music, endless lines of melody filling her head until the world went dark at last.

    First was the smell. Garbage, engine exhaust. The sickening musty smell of sex and an undertone of blood.
    Then came sensations, one by one: pain first in her hands, then in her rib cage, then sharp and hot between her legs. Her face felt huge, her tongue swollen in her mouth.
    Sounds. Men speaking. The voices were familiar and sent a knife of fear through her belly.
    Someone nudged her back with a foot, but she didn’t move, didn’t betray her consciousness. She knew that if they saw she was awake, they would kill her. Why they hadn’t already, she didn’t know.
    She heard a grunt and felt something hot and wet hit the side of her face. Oh. That was why. Another zipper, this one going upward, and a chuckle. He was done.
    It wasn’t over. She was still alive and they weren’t leaving. Oh God. Oh God.
    The numbness that had overtaken her before no longer shielded her from the horror of what was happening—fear crawled over her body and she fought the panicked need to run away. She wouldn’t make it two steps, assuming she could even get to her feet. The pain told her quite well that she might be able to crawl, but that was it.
    Movement, and someone seized her by her hair and pulled her upward, exposing her throat. She couldn’t stop the scream from erupting.
    “Well, look at that,” the man with the knife against her jugular said, his breath fetid against her face. “Pretty little thing’s awake.”
    He stroked the blade along her jawline. “You know, baby, you’ve got just about the sweetest little pussy I’ve ever fucked. Doesn’t she, boys?”
    Grunts of agreement all around. She wanted desperately to struggle, to bring her knee up into his crotch, to do anything; but it was too late. She was too hurt, too weak. The time to fight was long past. She’d let it pass. She had given up her life instead of trying to survive, and this was the end of it.
    The end. Please, let this be the end. Let them just kill me . . . at least then it’ll be quiet . . . please . . .
    He was laughing, and withdrew the knife. She could feel his hips against hers, and to her disgust, he had an erection again. “Maybe we’re not finished yet,” he said. “I think I’ve got one left in me.”
    “Gordon, let’s do her and get out of here,” another of the men said anxiously. “Somebody’s gonna come by.”
    “Keep watch,” Gordon snapped. His free hand groped her breasts beneath her torn shirt, then dropped down to undo his pants.
    He wasn’t coordinated enough for the operation, though, and had to loosen his hold around her neck to force her back to the ground. For just a second, he lowered the knife.
    Some instinct she had never felt before surged up through her battered body. Rage, red-hot and fanged, boiled her from the inside and seized the opportunity that chance had granted it. A sound she’d never known she could make tore from her throat—half scream, half