Chapter 20

The bathroom was cleaner.

Renee tugged on the toilet paper, mildly pleased that it rolled. Before she had gone through, the roll had been sitting on top of the used one. Not a huge issue, but one she had corrected.

She'd been shooting users for hours. It had started as something to pass the time. Only a couple of bodies later, and she was enjoying it. She even forgotten about the presence of the other two.

She had laughed. Renee'd gunned her way through a maze of a building, lightning fast, and once the faction had swarmed upon her, she'd jumped through a window, into the next building over.

Into a stake-out.

Into a pit of enemies.

And she had survived.

She'd used up every special she'd been hoarding and was almost blown up by her own lousy grenades, but she had come out on top. She'd been able to take everything the group had stockpiled.

After she'd cackled to the victory, Renee had noticed the other two staring at her. She had excused herself and found haven in the bathroom.

She dropped the paper into the toilet.

Crack.

Zack entered the bathroom as if he burst in on girls pissing, all the time.

Renee instantly stood, but he closed the gap between them in two short steps, and shoved her back onto the plastic.

"Sauce left to get some some fucking thai," he said. "You are going to tell me whatever it is you're hiding. You're going to do it, now."

It wasn't a question.

She didn't say a word.

Zack gripped her shirt and slammed her against the wall. Without a water tank to get in the way, what could have been an extremely painful maneuver for her spine ended up doing little more than jar her shoulders.

His face filled her vision, and she couldn't even flinch away.

"How did Montague die?"

Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, trying to pull them down- or pull herself up. Just take away his control.

"H-he didn't, um- he didn't get enough oxygen into his brain," she managed. The urge to blurt out, 'I stabbed him. I made him die, ' slowly vanished.

It hadn't been a lie.

Zack rattled her again. "What caused he lack of oxygen to your former owner's brain?"

"I-I did."

Zack paused, glanced at the nails digging into his wrists, and frowned. "Drop your hands, Renee. Keep them to your side until I say different."

They flopped down.

"Now, tell me. Did Montague use you to suicide himself?"

" ... he commanded me to- to kill him." Indirectly, her mind admonished. Barely indirectly, at that.

Shut up.

"Okay, okay," said Zack. He beamed, as if her admission was the best news he had heard all day. "Why did he buy you, Renee?"

Alarms blared in her head. "He- he just wanted me."

"Did he want you for fucking?"

Renee dropped her eyes. The knowing smile, the casual leer- it lead to one thing, and one thing only.

"Yes," she mumbled through her teeth.

He pulled his face away just before she could headbutt him.

Zack eyed her, then glanced out the bathroom door.

"Yeah..." he murmured. "I thought so. Heh. My very own little slut." He pressed closer, so their bodies were only inches apart.

"Unzip my pants, Renee."

Her hands, treacherous things that they were, complied.

"Here." He grinned and guided her hand into the gap, against the bulge in his underwear.

She must have winced, or frowned- something, because the next thing she knew, he had shoved her hand away. He gripped both wrists in one fist and slammed them above her head.

Helpless.

"You fucking bitch," he murmured. "You're mine. You're not allowed to fight me." He released his erect dick with his free hand.

She tried kicking him. She tried locking her knees together. But the jeans, she realized. They may as well have been chains around he ankles, for all the good they did.

And the toilet forced her legs apart.

Zack was so close, she couldn't escape. She couldn't get her legs free.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it Stop it Stop it stop it stop [b]it[/b]-"

She felt him- felt it- against her stomach. Her face pressed against his rough shirt, tears she didn't notice soaked through the fabric.

His fingers twined through her hair. He gripped it tightly and forced her to look up- to look at him.

"please don't-" she managed, just before he jerked her hair so brutally she thought it would rip.

"No. Don't say anything, Renee. Don't cry. You'll enjoy this, my beautiful slut. I'll make you like it."

She could only hiccup.

He had to bend his knees and lift her up, his fingers digging into her ass, to position his member between her thighs. Her stupid jeans caught against the porcelain. She could rise any higher.