Pretty Painful Read online

  Pretty Painful (The Fallen Gods Book One)

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved: Written by K.A. Knight

  Edited by Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading & Kaila Duff

  Formatted by Kaila Duff

  Cover by Temptation Creations

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also By K.A Knight

  “It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure.” - Marquis de Sade

  “Team three in position,” I whisper into my mic.

  I hear my men moving into place behind me, the rustle of their tactical gear the only sound as we surround the old church. It’s supposed to be an easy job, get in, get the package, and get out. We are being paid handsomely for our time, not that we know who ordered this job, but it doesn’t matter. We need all the money we can get at the moment to keep our hunting going.

  “Team two in position,” Gio rumbles into my ear.

  “Team one in position. All clear, boss.”

  “Moving in. Team two, take the back. Team one, you’re on lookout. Team three, with me,” I order, hopping up from my prone position and into a crouch. Waving my hand, I watch the others cross the grassy, open area and wait on either side of the door. We don’t know what to expect in there, only that what we have come for is dangerous. I’m planning to take every precaution to ensure my team makes it home, and we deliver the package on time as requested.

  “Move in, take the door,” I hiss.

  They yank the door open and my team surges in, with me on their heels as they secure the inside of the church.

  “Clear!”

  “Clear!”

  I get shouts from around the room and I nod, switching on my light and swinging it around the space. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling and pillows running along each aisle of the church. Forgotten, wooden pews are tossed carelessly around the room, and the carpet under my feet crunches from lack of care. A big, stained glass window stands at the end of the church under an archway, and a table with a large, wooden cross takes up the middle section.

  It looks like nothing has even been stolen from here—gold and silver litter the area like forgotten relics. Why would no one steal it? The fact that it’s a church wouldn’t stop people…maybe it’s whatever we are hunting? I wave them forward, all of us on high alert. I don’t like this, something seems off. While everything is expanding and being built around it, this church stands forgotten in the middle of nowhere. An uneasy feeling takes root as I head for the table at the front of the church. I nod at my men, and they quickly shove it out of the way, revealing the hidden hatch our mysterious employer described.

  Pulling out my bolt cutters, I try to ignore the fact this thing has been secured from the outside. Whatever they wanted to keep in, they really never wanted it to get out again. The chain is old and rusted but still strong, and it takes three cuts before the chain gives way. Yanking on the hatch, I cough as dust and dirt flies into my face, like the air has finally been let into that room after hundreds of years. Taking a light from the man next to me, I throw it down into the darkness and wait. I hear it finally hit the floor, and when I look down, I can spot it, but it looks far away.

  “Rope,” I command, and as my men work on getting us a way down there, I crouch and take a closer look.

  Something moves in the dark, shooting across the light’s rays before the glow disappears altogether, sending the room into complete darkness.

  “Shh!” I hold up my hand, frowning at the sound of slithering and breathing coming from below…

  What the—

  Two golden lights flicker on, moving higher towards the opening quickly, until they burst from the hatch, taking the stone floor with them as my men yell and fire at the black shape that busts from the floor.

  Holy fuck, what is that thing?

  “Hold your fire! We need it alive!” I shout, trying to cut through the chaos of my men’s yells and panic.

  A scream sounds to my left, and I spin, only to watch as one of my men is picked up in the dark and thrown across the room.

  “What is that?” someone screams.

  I hear a gurgle before blood sprays us, and more screaming starts from somewhere in the room, our lights swinging wildly as we try to find the thing.

  I spot movement out of the corner of my eye and quickly spin there, aiming through my tranq gun. “Gotcha,” I whisper with a grin as I take aim and fire. When it hits its target, a roar like a lion cuts through the night, shaking the very foundation of the building. “Hit it with everything you got!” I order.

  The blur moves towards me and I keep shooting, with sweat dripping down my face and back as it gets closer and closer. At the last possible second, it falls from the air, dropping to the floor of the church and crushing the pews, a dark blob in the night.

  A monster.

  Dabria

  The last thing I remember was dancing with my friends at the new club that had opened across town. I’d had a long ass day at work. Editing historical manuscripts was not how I imagined my life would turn out, but it was a job after all. So, there we were, dancing our stress away. I was drunk and happy and grinding away, and the next thing…nothing. Complete blackness, like a dark spot in my memories. I can’t remember how me dancing turned into…this.

  How did I get here?

  Where is here?

  Who are they?

  What do they want?

  But most importantly…how do I get free?

  Time passes slowly behind the bars of a cage. Without windows, we have no way of knowing whether it’s night or day. The only thing that breaks up the monotony of being stuck in a cage next to twenty other women is their visits. The guards, the ones who are meant to keep us in line—their hands, mouths, and dicks using us in whatever way they see fit.

  I fought the first couple of times, but all I got for it was a broken jaw and ribs, and when I was passed out, they fucked me anyway…no, not fucked me. Raped me. Again and again until they realised I wouldn’t scream for them anymore, I wouldn’t fight them anymore. No, I was playing it smart. They wanted reactions, fed on the fear and tears, they loved it, but I refused. I became stoic, retreating into myself, and curling around that flame of hatred and complete, desperate hope to be free. I would do whatever it took to get out of here, even if that meant playing the good little slave.

  Eventually, they grew bored with me and turned their attentions onto the other women. Only coming inside now and again to beat me or rough me up, like they were waiting for something to happen. I was forced to watch the horrors inflicted upon the other girls, my heart breaking and my soul fracturing with the pain and utter hopeless destruction shown to them.

  One girl died early on, they said she killed herself.

  One girl went mad, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself about butterflies and hidden kingdoms.

  Another was taken away.

  Four were sold, like cattle, paraded around drugged and scared in front of the camera. Their legs were forced open and the camera moved to show their most intimate places, nothing was safe. They even had t
hem bend over and grab their ankles, showing their asses off to the cameras. I stayed strong through it all, never faltering with my plan…until her. That’s when everything changed.

  I don’t know if they knew, if they did it on purpose or if it was a happy accident, but when they dragged her—my sister—into the opposite cage, I broke. Like they wanted me to do since day one, I screamed, I begged, and I fought with everything in me. It didn’t make a difference. I stared at her tear-stricken face as we were both pressed up against the bars as close to each other as we could get, our hands extending through, searching for the other. The tips of our fingers almost touching, just out of reach. Always out of reach.

  I could feel the storm coming, their attention turning to us, and just like I knew would happen…they came again. They had seen my display, they knew she meant something to me, and they finally had a way to break me—to own and use me. They went straight to her cell, four of them—two outside, watching me, and two inside with her. She cowered into the corner, crying as she screamed my name.

  I thrashed, hitting the bars again and again, and I felt the bones crush in my hand, but I kept going with words pouring from my mouth. I begged them, I threatened them, yet it fell on deaf ears. They taunted me, they pulled her from the cell and pushed her face into my bars, we were so close I could touch her. I held onto her cheek, her eyes on mine, filled with tears and fear. She was so scared. Snot dripped from her nose and even though I was losing feeling in my hand, I held on, my other hand seeking hers and weaving our fingers together like we used to when we were kids. This time, I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t save her. This was no bully teasing her for her weight, this was no boy breaking her heart. I was helpless.

  My heart shattered all over again as they used her body, pressed against my cage, forcing me to watch as they violated her again and again. Grunting their releases like animals before laughing and pulling out. When they were done, they let her slide down the bars and curl into my cell. Her sobs long since cut off, her eyes raw and red, her clothes lost, and her body abused. Bruises were already marring her pale skin, leaving finger marks on her hips and even cuts on her back, which slowly dripped blood onto the cement floor.

  I held her through the bars for as long as I could, singing to her like I had when we were little and she woke up from a bad dream, but she was gone, she wasn’t there anymore. Her eyes were vacant, her soul forced from the husk in front of me. They didn’t kill her, no, they broke her.

  I heard my cell door clanging and not sparing them a look, I dropped a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, bug.”

  Forcing myself to stand, I waited in the middle of the cage as two of the men, their pants still unbuttoned, ducked inside with me. Fury like I had never felt before coursed through my veins as the worry and humanity that kept me locked into this life, forcing me to stay alive, fled, until I didn’t care if I lived or I died. All I cared about was taking them with me.

  That freedom, that lack of caring, unlocked something in me, and I raced forward, screaming it to them. Time seemed to slow, my body moving as if I was no longer in charge, and the edges of my vision started to blur, like I was in a dream. My hand lifted, but in slow motion I saw the guard in front of me reaching for his gun just as I swiped my hand across his throat. Blood spurted into my face, dripping into my eyes and mouth. I darted my tongue out, tasting the rich copper mixed with…sweetness. It tasted good.

  I turned to the other guard and darted out my hand, hitting him in the heart. His face froze, his eyes wide, and he dropped to the floor. I could hear it, his heart had stopped. Shouts came from outside my cell and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw Rach smiling at me with blood in her teeth, and her eyes slightly more alive. I moved through the open cage door and one of the other guards raced towards me. I let him come, I let him impale himself on my hand as it punched through his stomach like butter. He screamed, blood and the smell of shit permeating the air as I pulled back and he dropped to the floor.

  Holding my arm out in front of me, I saw the blood coating it, and I couldn’t help myself. I licked it, catching the drips with my tongue and curling it back into my mouth with a groan, my eyes flickering shut for a moment before a scream cut through the haze. Everything came back—the sounds, the smells—and sped up.

  I watched in horror as Rach was pulled to her knees with a gun held to her temple from the final guard as he faced me.

  “I should have known you would be one of them,” he sneered. “You killed my men. I can’t kill you, but…”

  I dropped my eyes to Rachel’s, terror racing through me as I stood frozen on the spot. Her eyes softened and she didn’t even fight the man’s hold, no, she smiled at me. A soft, reassuring one. “Love you, big sis,” she whispered, before a shot rang out and her body jerked out of his grip. Her lifeless eyes stared at me as she fell to the side in a broken heap.

  “Nooooo!” I screamed, dropping to my knees before her, lifeless, like a ragdoll. All that fury and power drained away, leaving me alone and cold as I gathered her body in my arms and rocked her, singing to her as tears clogged my throat and dripped from my eyes, landing on her still chest. Bending my head over her body, I held her close, unwilling to let her go.

  I heard the door open as more guards spilled into the room, no doubt brought by the gunfire, but I refused to acknowledge them, my whole world narrowed down to my broken baby sister in my arms. I faded out their commands and voices, instead brushing a piece of short brown hair away from her face, and closing each eyelid before leaning down and kissing her cooling forehead. “I love you, baby sis.”

  Hands pulled at me, trying to pry me away from her, but I screamed and held on tighter, refusing to let her go. I can’t leave her. I can’t, she needs me. I don’t know if I am talking to them or myself anymore, but when the butt of a gun hits the side of my head and I slump over her body, all I feel is numbness.

  Bone-deep cold, the likes of which will never be washed away.

  She’s dead, Rachel was dead.

  Dabria

  The first time I woke up, I found myself in a windowless room. I was stripped of what little clothing remained and there was a needle mark on the inside of my elbow with a bruise growing around it, meaning it wasn’t fresh. How long had I been out?

  Rachel.

  It all came rushing back and a sob racked my body as I curled up on the cold floor, screaming into my arm and biting it to stifle my cries. I wept my heart out, leaving it in little pieces on the floor. I wanted the numbness again. Anything was better than this…this…grief. This heartache. I stayed in that position until my tears dried up and my limbs started to ache, and then I slept again.

  Days, weeks, hours, I don’t know how much time passed as I curled up in the corner, reliving the terror of losing my sister, and trying to build myself back together again. It was a blur, an eternity dragging on and on until a bang had me jumping, bringing me out of my thoughts and memories, and back to the present.

  I climb to my feet, my legs unsteady and weak from lack of food and water, and the position I’d been locked in during my grief. My whole body protests the movements and I lean back against the brick wall. Shouldn’t I be cold?

  The door opens and I blink, how did I not realise there was a door there? It’s steel with a slat halfway down, and it slowly creaks open to reveal a man in a white lab coat. He doesn’t speak as he heads my way. I watch him from the wall, my eyes peeking through the fall of my long, blonde, tangled hair. I listlessly notice blood drying in it.

  He grabs my arm, producing a needle from his pocket, and stabs me, all without saying anything. I don’t even flinch. Let him do what he wants, I’m already dead. I know that, I’m not getting out of here alive.

  “Who are you?” I ask, my voice croaky.

  He turns and leaves without a word, the door banging shut, sending me into another flood of tears as I slide down the wall to the floor. I fall asleep again after that and when I wake up, I start to pace to stretch
out my muscles. I explore every corner of the room, noting the scratch marks and broken fingernails embedded into the concrete. I find myself tracing a claw mark down the wall before carrying on with my inspection.

  Nothing, nothing to help me. Disappointed, I sit next to the door, leaning my head on the cool metal while praying for it to open, but also praying for it to never open again. Will they leave me to starve? But now that I think about it, I don’t feel hungry. There’s a cottony taste in my mouth, but it’s not unpleasant.

  Time passes slowly as I stretch out against the door and close my eyes, but Rachel comes to mind straight away. I lose myself in our pasts until whispers outside the door interrupt my daydreams.

  “Well, tough shit, they can’t have her yet. I haven’t even run my tests. She has only been down here for a month,” a man hisses.

  “Do we need to remind you who pays for this little operation? No? Good. They want a woman, and she’s the only one you have at the moment. Bring her or I will be forced to remind you who pulls your strings,” a harsh voice threatens, as footsteps head my way, making me scramble back to the wall, crouching slightly. The door opens, revealing the man in the lab coat and another man.

  He’s dressed simply, black jeans and a black top. A skull is tattooed on the side of his neck and his eyes are dark and mean. He checks me over, almost clinically. “She will do. Drug her, I don’t want her awake until we get there,” he orders, turning away without another word and leaving the door frame.

  I push farther back, his words making me cower as the doctor sighs and pulls another syringe from his pocket. He heads my way, muttering to himself as he goes. “Fucking pricks, I had high hopes, but nooo, just do as I’m told.”