The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10 Read Online Free Page B

until I framed him for assault—which wasn’t hard since he snuck into my bedroom almost nightly trying to cop a feel—and got myself out of there. I listened for a female voice as they probed and inspected me, praying someone would take mercy on me.  
    One man’s fingers dug into my upper arms, pinching the skin under my armpits. Hands trailed down the curve of my back, reaching around my pants, searching. My body vibrated with nervous energy as my throat closed. I clenched my muscles and hardened myself. I could barely get air into my lungs. Fingers poked into my pockets, lifted up my shirt, and explored every crevice. I never once felt like I had a chance of escape, their arms unrelenting.
    A man hauled me over his shoulder, my face hitting his muscular back, my ass in the air near his ear. I wanted to pull my shirt down to cover my midriff. I wanted to fix my pants that had slipped low enough to show my butt. It was stupid since those were probably the least of my worries, but I hated being vulnerable. Hated the dirty taste it left in my mouth. Before I had the chance to wiggle, my arms and ankles were zip-tied together.
    The man carrying me walked through my hallway. He acted as if he knew my home, each step confident. He pushed through my rickety, old screen door. It crashed shut behind us, and I heard another man’s feet catch and a bang from behind me.  
    “Fuck, Jim. You shut the damn door in my face.”
    “Oh, screw off. Hold your own damn door.”
    Suddenly, my captor, Jim, stumbled forward, and my head slammed against his back. His arms tightened around my waist. It made me squirm with disgust. I wished he’d just drop me to put me out of my misery. Even though without working arms and legs, I wouldn’t get far.  
    “Where do you want her?” Jim asked.
    “Put her in the middle of the back seat, and I’ll sit next to her.”
    A different man’s finger traced the outline of my hip and rose up to my face, pausing along the way at my breasts. He felt the curve of my waist. He squeezed my nipple through my shirt, and I screamed, my throat burning. I choked as tears rolled down my face. His other hand got lost in my hair and tugged my head backwards with a snap. I screamed again as loud as I could, but my voice turned scratchy, the first signs of losing it. Someone slapped me hard. My cheek ignited, a sharp fire where his palm connected.  
    “Let me go!” I struggled in Jim’s arms, yelling and kicking. I knew that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t be freed. I bucked my hips and thrust my shoulders forward, hoping to flip over and at least stand alone. Hope seemed like a distant memory.
    Jim pulled me down off his back and grabbed onto my shoulders. He squeezed them so hard I knew they would bruise, deep purple fingerprints in my skin. He tugged me against his body and lifted me, jerking me around whatever way he chose. I felt like a rag-doll, flailing around.
    My right ear pressed against his chest as he settled me, his heart thumping steadily like a drum. His arm snaked behind my head, holding around my shoulders a little too tight, and his other arm reached under my knees, lifting me in one quick thrust.
    “Just get in the car before you get yourself hurt,” Jim whispered, his voice hushed. His arms released me into a low-to-the-ground seat. I tried to twist my head so the blindfold would fall off, but it was pointless.  
    I ran my hands along the seat and felt a cold, firm leather. The car rumbled to life as one of the doors shut from the front. I became more aware of my lack of sight. I had no idea how many men were there, or what they looked like. The edges of the fabric bit into my temples.
    I tried to sit up, squirming and rolling, but it became impossible without my arms. A loud bang against the car jolted me, and I quieted my panting, trying to listen to what was going on. Nobody else had gotten into the car, and it didn’t feel like we were moving yet.
    “Get in the other car and