Sleep is something I haven’t done in days. I’m expected to rest, but how can I? How can I heal my broken body when my mind races with what-ifs? What if she’s not there? God forbid, what if he’s hurt her… or worse? I shake my head violently as I try to clear the lurid thoughts from my mind. I need to stay positive. I have to find her, or all of this will have been in vain.
Pacing back and forth, I clutch my phone in my hand, desperate for the damn thing to vibrate. I’m nervously pressing the home screen button, over and over, hoping and willing something to show on the screen. Today is the day. Today is the chance to get her home and exact my revenge. My need for revenge is deep rooted, down into my very soul. It can only be cured one way. By killing every single motherfucker involved in ripping my heart out and taking her away from me. I will be savage and unforgiving. No amount of pleas or crying will save anyone today. It’s time they met their maker in the coldest, cruelest ways possible.
But first, we need to get inside. I have to make sure that this time I’m ready. Ready and focused for anything that bastard tries to throw at us. I need to be quicker, harder. There’s no way I’m letting her down this time.
A loud buzzing sound snaps me from my racing thoughts. I make my way over to the screen, noticing the van parked outside the gates, Nate’s head hanging out from the driver’s side window. I press the button. “Hey, man,” I shout over the intercom.
“Let us in,” he chirps, his voice rattles the speaker.
“Sure,” I say, pressing the button to open the gates. He drives onto the driveway, and I watch him and his men jump down from the truck, making their way to the front door. Opening the door, I welcome him with open arms, patting his back and shaking the hands of the other Savages that have arrived with him.
“So, you ready?” he asks, walking into the living room and dropping down onto the couch. His feet rest lazily on the coffee table in front. I watch as his men follow in behind him.
“So fucking ready,” I reply. “My men should be here any minute now,” I say checking my phone again.
“It will be okay.” Her voice startles me, and I snap my head, looking at Tara standing in front of me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“She came with me,” Nate interjects, jumping up from the couch and standing beside her. My eyes look between them, a look of guilt written all over their faces.
“Is something going on here?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at both of them. Tara shuffles her feet against the wooden floor in an attempt to act normal. “You know what… I don’t want to fucking know. But you stay here, got it?”
“I’m coming with you guys. I'll stay in the truck, ready to drive away. I told you before I’d be the getaway girl.” She flashes me a smile, but it isn’t working.
“No fucking way,” I reply. “You are not coming with us. End of story.”
“But why, Brax?” she whines, her arms dropping by her side. “I’ve supported you through this whole thing, surely it’s only fair that I see it through to the end?”
“She’s right, man,” Nate says shrugging his shoulders.
“No,” I roar. “I’m not having you caught up in the middle of this fucking mess. What if we don’t make it out? What if they get you too? No, no fucking way. This isn’t a game, Tara. This is messed-up fucking shit…”
“I’m not a little girl, Brax. I can take care of myself.”
Cocking my head to the side, I glare at her menacingly, trying to get through to her. “Oh, really?” I muse. “I’m not so sure about that, Tara.”
“Fuck you, Brax. That was different and you know it.” She’s yelling at me and the other guys just watch on as she continues to lose her shit. “You know what, that’s a really fucking low blow, even for you,” she growls at me through her gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about this here, got it?” She widens her eyes at me and I know exactly why.
“You are staying here.”
“Fine,” she sighs, crossing her arms and looking through her lashes at Nate. He reaches out, grabbing her arm, pulling her closer. “It’ll be okay,” he says with a determined nod.
“There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t,” she mumbles, her eyes burning into his.
“Tell me later,” he replies, his voice low and a smile creeping across his face. I can’t help but roll my eyes, stepping away from love’s young dream.
“Where are they? They should be here by now,” I say, checking the time again.
“We should really get going. The light’s fading, so this is the perfect time.”
“You’re right,” I reply to the bald-headed guy in front of me. My eyes scan the rest of the gang in front of me. “I’m not sure we’ve met before,” I say, offering him my hand. He takes it, shaking his ring-covered hand in mine.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Nate shouts over. “Let me introduce you to the guys.” Resting his hand on my shoulder he points to each guy, letting me know their names.
“Gus, Duke, Zane, Silver, and Jarvis.”
They all nod a little as their names are read out. Usually, when shit like this goes down, the room fills with tension. Everyone knows their lives are on the line, but here, it feels completely different. They are so relaxed and that scares the living shit out of me. Either they have zero fear or no idea what we are walking into. My guess is the latter.
“Where the fuck are your men?” Nate asks with narrowed eyes. “We need to hammer down the details. Get a plan in place.”
I nod, my frustrations growing as I start to wonder whether the motherfuckers will ever show. I bring up a name on my phone, resting it between my ear and my shoulder, adjusting the gun inside my jeans. I slam my boot against the coffee table as I listen to the ring over and over. I make sure the knife is secured by the strap around my ankle. The ringing stops and is replaced by breathing.
“Tommy,” I speak hastily. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Brax, my old friend.” His voice drawls out my name and I’m soon gripping the knife in my hand as a sudden feeling of rage washes through me.
“Carter, what the fuck…”
“You thought you could use MY men and go on a one-man crusade, without consulting me? No fucking way, Brax. You want my men, you work with me.”
“Our men, pussy. Our fucking men.”
“MY men,” he roars. “Or are you forgetting you’d be nothing without me? I brought you into this world; I made you who you are. Those men work for me. Not you.” I’m just about to reply when the line goes dead. I draw the knife out of its holder, stabbing it straight into the wooden coffee table.
Tara gasps and the rest of the guys go silent. All eyes are on me as I slump over the table, my hand still resting on the handle of the knife.
“B… B… Brax,” she quietly stutters my name. “What’s happened?”
“Carter fucking happened, that’s what,” I roar, unable to calm the anger bubbling inside of me. He’d put a stop to me finding her, using fear to control the men I had working with me. “They ain’t coming, man,” I say with a sigh, pushing my hands through my hair.
“Fuck,” he replies, rubbing his thumb and finger together. “We can still do this, Brax,” he says with a little optimism. “We have seven men. Seven, really good men.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give him a nod. “What option do I have? I have to save her, or at least fucking try. But I won’t let this go. Carter will have to answer for what he’s done.”
Tara smiles warily at me, her eyes looking sad. “I’m sorry,” she says with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe I can try to talk to him? Make him see sense.”
“It won’t work,” I say, pulling my knife free from the table and placing it back in the holder. “There’s more to this than meets the eye. For years he has helped me search for Isabelle. Why turn his back on me now?”
“Sounds like a power struggle to me, man,” Nate adds.
“Nah, there has to be more. I just don’t know what… yet. But believe me, I’ll find out. I have to.”
I force down the last mouthful of food. My stomach has shrunk so small that a few mouthfuls make me feel full and bloated. In the back of my mind I know I have to eat as much as I can. There's no knowing when my next meal will be.
“Good girl,” he says with a smirk, his finger catching a few fallen strands, moving them out of the way. “You have such a beautiful face, Isabelle.”
“Thank you,” I say with the fakest smile I can muster.
“You know, it hasn’t been easy for me; this whole situation is not what I wanted. Seeing you suffer was never part of the plan.”
Liar. His sick fantasies all revolve around seeing me in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say pushing my hands between my thinner-than-usual thighs.
“I promise to take good care of you, but you have to do what I say. Got it?”
“Yes,” I say with a nod, my body starting to shake involuntarily. No matter how hard I try to fight the fear, I just can’t. My mind won’t let me forget what I’ve suffered through, just how bad the torture was.
“Show me,” he says, and my eyes shoot up to meet his. “I want you to show me how sorry you really are.” I swallow down the dread that has built in my throat. I knew he had allowed me to live for one reason, and one reason only. So he could abuse me. So I would fulfill his every fantasy.
“How?” I ask. My heart races and I almost cower as he closes the gap between us. I have to fight to stop myself retracting. I feel his breath on my cheek and instantly my body stills. I feel like the room is closing in on me. He leans closer and I allow my eyes to drift shut. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek and my body shudders, covering in goose bumps, but not in a good way. My stomach rolls, and I feel as though I’m going to heave.
“Take off the robe,” he instructs, his foul breath against my skin. I have no choice but to comply. I can’t risk fighting him and ending up back in that room. But I must be smart. I will get out of here, no matter what it takes.
I slide the soft material down each shoulder, allowing it to fall onto the back of the chair. I reach down, pulling on the sash, completely removing it.
“Stand,” he purrs. “It’s been too long, Isabelle.” His hungry eyes rake over my cold, naked body. An evil, humorless chuckle escapes him, and I know he’s not laughing because something is funny. It’s sinister, like I’m missing the point, like he has a plan. I slowly stand, pushing the chair back, turning to him.
“Jesus.” He exhales an unsteady breath. “You’re all skin and bones. We need to correct that. We need to get you back to the old Isabelle.” His face contorts, and it’s like he’s angry with me, his eyes burn into mine. I swallow the huge lump in my throat as I try to work out whether I should be apologizing. Nothing makes sense. He tortures me, but somehow the product of his torture is my fault.
“I will,” I blurt out. “I’ll look healthy again, I just need you to give me a chance.”
“You betrayed me, Isabelle. I want to believe you won’t do it again, but you are feisty, rebellious even. When I found out that your father had died and you escaped, well I was sure you’d be the willing victim. You were already so accustomed to isolation.”
What. The. Hell?
I ponder his words quickly. He knew about my father? He knew I had escaped?
“How?” my croaking voice asks.
“How what?” He smiles, shaking his head at me as I stand in front of him completely bare.
“You knew my father had me locked up? You knew I escaped and came to find me?”
“Yes,” he says with a tone of satisfaction.
“But… but… how?”
“Now isn’t the time.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, standing from his seat and closing the gap between us. I shudder as he gets closer, but can’t concentrate on his actions because his words swim around in my mind.
He knew? How? How could he possibly have known?
The questions buzz over and over in my fragile mind while his calloused hands graze down my arm, across my stomach. His warm body is close to mine and I shake as he touches me, my heart racing in time with my mind.
“I will get the doctor in again for your next contraceptive injection.”
I draw my eyebrows together, confused by what he means.
“Come on.” He lowers his face until it’s positioned right in front of my own. “You must have known.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Maybe you were too out of it,” he says with a shrug. “I only use drugs as a form of control when I really have to.” He reaches inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a fully loaded syringe. It has a small cap on the end of the needle, and I watch as he removes it, pressing the bottom until a small amount of the drug squirts out. “We won’t be needing this now, will we?”
I shake my head loosely from side to side and he replaces the plastic cap, pushing it back inside his jacket pocket.
“I want to make you scream out my name, Isabelle. You remember I promised to take you into the pool?”
I nod, remembering how he said he wanted to fuck me in there and worship my body. His words sting deep inside—the only man I want to touch me is Brax. But I have to do this. Complying is survival 101. “I remember,” I acknowledge with the faintest of smiles.
“I’m going to take you there now,” he informs me, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against his chest. “I will make you forget about that bastard who dared to take you from me. I will wash him clean from your body, reclaiming what was always mine.” His hand caresses the back of my damp hair, stroking over and over like a father comforting his child. My stomach rolls at the feel of him touching me and I internally recoil. I want to scream; I want to do something to satisfy the craving I have for revenge. To hurt him the way he has hurt me. So that he can never hurt another innocent girl.
I feel his hand snake inside mine and I have to do everything I can not to snap it away. I still my hand, holding it in his as he leads me out of the room and toward the corridor that leads to the pool. I turn my head sharply at the sound of footsteps, only to see Harlan following closely behind, a gun in his hand. He glares at me, and I force my eyes away, glancing up to the evil, twisted man who leads me into the room.
“You are in for a real treat, my Isabelle.” He pushes open the door and we slowly walk inside. The increased heat instantly hits me. It’s so warm. My almost tensed, cold body starts to relax. I scan the huge room. One Olympic-size pool fills the center of the room. In the corner is a walk-in shower and hot tub.
“What about him?” I whisper, jerking my head in Harlan’s direction.
“He stays.”
I look over to him. He stands tall, hands held together in front of him and his head lifted a little, a smirk dressing his lips. I glare at him, knowing the bastard is enjoying this.
“Please,” I beg, “I really don’t want him to watch. If he’s here for your protection, fine, I understand that. But watching?” I try to say my words softly, hoping not to fuel his annoyance. His eyes search mine as if he’s looking for something but can’t find it.
“Okay,” he says softly, catching me off guard as his hand cups my cheek. I jerk, a little scared at first, before making myself relax into his touch. “I frighten you, don’t I?”
“Yes.” I choke back the emotion as I try to fight back the tears.
“Good,” he barks at me. “You should be frightened.” He nods to Harlan, and I watch as he walks out of the room, standing on the other side of the door, his head just in sight through the glass pane.
For a moment I thought I saw sincerity in his eyes and his words. I almost kick myself for believing his bullshit.
He dips his head, angrily crashing his lips against mine. He forces his lips against my own, holding my head in place with his hands. I have no other choice but to kiss him back, opening my mouth allowing his foul tongue access. My nostrils flare as I fill with utter disgust, bile stinging the back of my throat. Clamping my eyes shut I remind myself this is just part of the plan. I need to survive to get out of here. Grasping a handful of my hair tightly, he forces me back against the tiled wall. He presses against me roughly, his straining erection digging into my stomach. I reach up, slipping the jacket down his arms and throwing it on the floor. I risk a glance as it lands just beside the pool.
“You fucking want this,” he murmurs against my lips. I don’t respond, I just let him continue to do what he wants, trying to blank it out. My mind wanders back to my time with Brax. The only time where I didn’t feel completely broken.
Reaching down, he unfastens himself and completely removes the rest of his clothes. The old, disgusting man stands in front of me completely naked. He takes his dick in his hand, stroking it, all while his eyes are fixed on me.
“On all fours,” he growls at me and I quickly comply. Dropping down on my knees, I quiver as I watch him circle me, anxiety growing as I wonder what his next move will be. Holding out his hand, he works it down my bare back, slapping my ass so hard I let out a cry.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Isabelle? Let me hear you beg for my cock.”
I die a little inside as I try to force out the words. “Touch my clit,” I stutter, knowing it’s what he wants to hear, but it’s the last thing I want.
“Really?” he replies with excitement in his voice. Dropping down behind me, his hand rushes over my hot, flushed skin, his fingers work over my ass and he works his finger through my folds, rubbing back and forth. This is not happening, I say over and over in my mind, but I know it won’t work. My body will betray me like it did before. The way it craves to be touched even if I despise the man doing the touching. I arch my back as I feel his fingers entering me repeatedly.
“Good girl,” he purrs, “come for me, Isabelle.” I’m embarrassed and broken, but wish my body to give in to his command. The sooner I come, the sooner this part of the torture is over.
He removes his fingers and I let out a huge breath only to gasp again at the feel of his tongue against me. He laps and licks at me from behind. My stomach contracts as I fight back the urge to heave. He knocks my legs apart wider to gain better access, my knees scrape on the cold, hard floor.
“Sweet, sweet fucking pussy.” His words send a chill down my spine, my eyes flicker toward the door. Harlan is still there, the back of his head rests against the glass. Then I notice a door next to the huge windows that line the entire length of the room. It overlooks the garden, the door leading out there.
“Touch me again,” I mewl. I have to get him to finish this. And quickly.
“Like this?” he asks, his finger flicking and working my clit.
“Yes,” I breathe, pressing back against him to heighten the contact. A few more strokes and I can feel myself tightening as I know I’m close. I relax my body back as my sex starts to pulsate.
Finally.
“Fuck, you are beautiful when you come. Now it’s my turn.” Standing, he grabs my hair, dragging me up from all fours. Positioning my head near his crotch, he tugs a little until my mouth is on his dick. “Make it good,” he growls. His hand relaxes but rests at the back of my head. I slip my mouth over the head of his cock, watching as he drops his head back, his eyes closed as I take him in, deeper and deeper. I look at him standing in front of me, his feet only inches away from the pool side, his jacket on the floor right beside me. I squeeze his dick tighter as I work both my hands and mouth up and down vigorously.
This is my chance. My heart gallops uncontrollably at the thought of what I’m about to do.
“Fuck, Isabelle,” he says breathlessly. I use my free hand to grab the jacket as quickly as possible. I locate the inside pocket, pulling out the needle. I flick the cap off the end and in one sharp movement, I raise back my hand and stab it into the side of his leg, pressing down the plunger. His head snaps down, anger flaring in his eyes, but I don’t give him a chance to say anything. I part from him, stepping back and rear up my leg. Kicking out my foot, I watch as it connects with his hip. It’s as if everything is happening so fast, yet I’m seeing it in slow motion. He stumbles sideways, the force enough for him to lose his balance. He grumbles incoherently, and it looks like the drug has taken an immediate effect. He falls back, a huge splash covers me in droplets of water, a groan escaping him as I watch his head connect with the side of the pool. My hand shakes as I drop the syringe to the floor, the clattering sound causes me to jerk out of my shock-like state. I gasp loudly, looking over to the door checking for Harlan. I see the back of his head and I know now is the time.
I have to get out.
I have to escape.
Only if I don’t, I know I’m sentenced to death.
I look at Alvrez’s lifeless body in the water, the water surrounding him now a pale shade of pink. I’m not sure whether he’s just unconscious or whether he’s actually dead. Either way, I have to get out. Picking up his jacket from the floor, I push my arms into the sleeves as I run over to the door I noticed earlier. I race over, my eyes scanning the door as I look for a way to open it. I don’t see any fingerprint recognition, just a sign that says fire escape and a huge metal handle. Depressing it, I close my eyes as I use every last bit of energy I can summon to attempt to open it. An alarm starts to ring out as the door flies open, and I can hardly believe it. I race out, my feet pounding against the wet grass beneath my feet. The daylight has faded and the only light is coming from the house. The cool night air feels freezing against my bare body. I don’t have time to take in my surroundings, all I know is that I’m charging forward making my way out of the grounds. I race, my heart hammering in my chest, my weak body not moving as fast as I’d like.
“Isabelle, stop,” the voice calls to me, but I don’t stop.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
I keep running, darting through the thick woodland that surrounds his house in the middle of nowhere. Shit. I’m in the middle of nowhere and he’s chasing after me.
“I said stop,” he roars. I turn my head quickly, checking to see how close he is to me. He’s gaining on me. I have to move faster. The adrenaline thuds through me so fast, it’s the only thing still keeping me moving. I hear the sound of his footsteps as he closes me down. The thump of his feet against the grass. The fury inside tells me not to stop. I can’t let this bastard catch me. I swerve through the trees again, taking a different direction. Charging forward I find the road. No longer shaded by the trees, the rain falls down on me, soaking me and slowing my speed.
“Last chance, bitch, or I shoot.”
I whip my head, looking behind me to see Harlan standing a few feet behind, pointing his gun at me. I shake my head as I slow my speed, realizing that I’d made a mistake by leaving the woods, the trees would have given me some protection from his ammunition. A surge of pain rips through me at the realization that there’s no way I can escape.