Everything passed for Adelaide in a blur. She slipped in and out of consciousness, only faint glimpses of whatever else was around her sticking in her mind. Eventually, she came to in a strange room. Looking around the place, she saw that it was a well-appointed bedroom decorated with upscale, modern furniture. The window looked out onto a wide stretch of lawn. Even the bed was surprisingly soft.
There was only one problem: she was tied down to the posts.
Adelaide opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out but a muffled cry. Not only was she tied down, she'd been gagged. Fear gripped her, and she frantically tried to piece together the last events she remembered in order to figure out just what the hell was going on.
OK, she thought, attempting to calm herself. I remember the bar. I remember the girls getting way too drunk. I remember that gross asshole trying to hit on me. I remember…
The realization hit her hard.
Thorne.
The next hour of memories came back in pieces. She remembered walking toward her home, feeling like she was being followed. Adelaide recalled, with clarity, that strange smell, metal and flowers. The rest of the walk home was spotty, but she did remember the last thing she saw before she was knocked out: Thorne.
She struggled against her restraints, every instinct in her body telling her that she was in major danger, that she needed to do everything she could to get the hell out of this place where she was being held and get to the nearest police station. But whoever had tied her down did a hell of a job at it; she realized quickly that there was no way she'd be able to get herself free.
After a time, a heavy thud sounded from the door, and the knob twisted. The door opened slowly, and Adelaide watched with frightened eyes just who was about to enter.
Sure enough, it was Thorne. She struggled again against her restraints as Thorne entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her with a mildly annoyed expression, as though he were watching a kid throw a fit after not getting her way.
"Now," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "I can take that gag off your mouth but let me make something clear: we're in a massive house on an even bigger lot, miles away from anyone else. You can scream all you want, but it's not going to do any good. It'll just wear out your throat and annoy the shit out of me in the process. So, if I take that off, you're gonna have to promise me that you're not gonna shriek in my fucking ear when I do it. Got it?"
Her eyes wet with tears, Adelaide nodded slowly.
Thorne then approached her, reached down, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
Without any control on her part, Adelaide let out a scream of terror.
"Fuck!" shouted Thorne. "What the hell did I just say?"
But before Thorne could put the gag back on, Adelaide calmed herself and stopped screaming. Her chest rose and fell as she took breath after breath, and her eyes were fixed on Thorne. He stood still for a moment, as if making sure she wasn't going to make another noise.
"There," he said, nodding slowly. "Much better."
"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Adelaide. "And why am I here?"
She feared the worst, that she was being kidnapped by some psycho murderer who wanted to kill her and cut her into little pieces – after raping her, of course. But the more her mind raced with horrible possibilities, the more she felt that Thorne didn't mean her any harm. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't sense danger from him.
"You're here because I was paid to bring you here," said Thorne. "And that's all you need to know."
"All I need to know?" asked Adelaide. "You kidnap me and tie me up, and then you tell me that I don't need to know anything?"
"That's pretty much what I just said, isn't it?"
Adelaide scowled.
"Let me go. Now."
"Not gonna happen," said Thorne, crossing his arms over his chest. "My clients want you, and they're paying a huge fucking payout for me to bring you to them. So, that's what I'm going to do."
"What? What clients? Where?"
"New York," said Thorne. "Once things cool down here, that's where we're going."
Silence hung in the air as Adelaide attempted to process everything that was happening.
"Now," said Thorne. "I'm sure you want to get out of those restraints, but I'm not going to do it unless you promise to cooperate."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that you don't try any bullshit," said Thorne.
"Like escape?"
"Escape's not what I'm worried about," he said. "Like I said, we're out in the middle of nowhere, and I've got this place locked up like a fortress. Even if you did manage to sneak out, even if you did manage to get past the fence, you'd be stuck in the middle of miles of bayou. No way you'd manage to find your way to the nearest town.
"No," he continued, "what I'm talking about is you trying to sneak up on me with a knife or a frying pan or some shit. You seem like the type, so let me just say, it wouldn't work out well for you, and hope that's enough."
Attacking Thorne and getting the hell out of here was on Adelaide's mind, but she could sense that he wasn't screwing around. He was about twice her size, after all, and an overpowering muscle-bound man like him wasn't someone it looked like she'd have an easy time with.
"Now," said Thorne. "You ready to play nice, kiddo? Because one fuck-up and you're going right back in those restraints. Got it?"
Adelaide realized that she didn't have another option. She sighed then nodded. Thorne reached down and undid the restraints one by one, Adelaide rubbing the raw skin as soon it was exposed. Once all the restraints were undone, she scrambled to a sitting position at the headboard, tucking herself into a tight ball. Thorne still standing over her, Adelaide shivered with fear.
"Come on now," he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"How the hell do I know that?"
"Because I would've done it already. My job is to bring you to New York without a scratch on you, and I'm not about to fuck up my payday."
"Then you're, what, some kind of escort?"
"In this particular case I am," he said. "But I'm a mercenary. Clients pay me to do whatever they need. In this case, I'm something like a bodyguard, I guess."
He thought about it for a moment.
"And that's truer than you know; I had to fight off some other asshole when I snatched you up. And he didn't seem like the type who'd treat you all that nicely."
"What?" asked Adelaide. "Someone else?"
"We can talk about it in a minute," he said. "But let's get the fuck out of this bedroom. Too cramped for my tastes."
He extended his hand toward Adelaide and, with a moment of hesitation, she took it. Thorne effortlessly pulled her off the bed, and she took a moment to steady herself on her feet. Thorne had already left the bedroom by the time she finally felt right enough to walk, and she scrambled after him with all the grace of a newborn deer.
Stepping out into the hallway, Adelaide gasped. The house was one of those old mansions that dotted the Louisiana landscape, and a quick scan of the place gave her the impression that it was easily a hundred years old, if not older. The main entryway was a grand hall, a massive chandelier hanging from the rotunda ceiling. The décor was a strange mixture of modern and old, with oil-paintings of aristocrats hanging above modern furniture.
"This place is…pretty amazing," said Adelaide, following Thorne down the stately spiral staircase in the middle of the entrance hall.
"Sure is," said Thorne. "And it's just one of the many homes my clients own. Told me they hadn't used it in years, so I might as well put it to good use if I'm gonna be in the area."
Adelaide followed Thorne through the hallway, then through the elegant living room, finally ending up in a large kitchen full of modern, stainless steel appliances. The space was filled with natural light, and the large bay windows looked out over the massive, emerald grass of the backyard. Adelaide spotted a huge, rectangular pool in the back, the water as blue as sapphires.
"Just…who are these clients?" asked Adelaide. "And what do they want with me?"
"I told you, I get paid to do what my clients ask. And part of the reason why I get paid so much is that I don't ask questions that I don't need to know the answers to."
"So…" said Adelaide, worry creeping into her voice, "how do I know that these clients aren't going to, um…"
She didn't want to finish the sentence; it was too much for her to even say out loud.
"What, are you thinking that they're doing some kind of ‘hunting humans for sport' thing?"
A small smirk formed on Thorne's face.
"I don't know!" shouted Adelaide. "And this isn't funny! I've just been kidnapped by some asshole and now you're cracking jokes?"
"Chill out," said Thorne, placing a pair of white ceramic mugs under the spouts of a very fancy-looking coffee maker and pressing start. "We're gonna be spending at least the day with one another, and I don't feel like dealing with you freaking out."
"I think I have a right to be a little bit freaked out," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I have no idea what's going to happen to me."
"Well," said Thorne, crossing his arms as the coffee maker whirred to life, "I can tell you that this family ain't the type to go in for sadistic shit like that. Or if they were, they wouldn't go to all the trouble of paying some merc team big bucks to haul some college co-ed in all the way from fuckin' New Orleans."
The coffee maker finished, and Thorne placed a steaming cup in front of Adelaide.
"Wait, merc team?" she said, looking around. "There's more than one of you?"
"Yup," he said. "They're back in New York. You'll meet them before too long."
He then turned his attention to the coffee.
"Drink that," he said. "You're probably woozy after what I did to you?"
"What you did to me?"
"I put you to sleep," he said. "You were out for twelve hours."
"How did you do that?" asked Adelaide. "Chloroform or something?"
Thorne looked away for a brief moment.
"Just, ah, a trick of the trade."
Adelaide could tell right then that there was something that Thorne wasn't telling her. But she got the distinct impression that trying to get answers out of him would be like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. A totally pointless exercise.
And as much as she hated herself for thinking it, she couldn't take her eyes off Thorne. Her gaze was locked onto the ropy muscles of his forearms as he crossed them under his beefy chest. He wore a rugged denim button up, the sleeves rolled up, and the buttons undone just enough for her to have something to feast on with her eyes. She couldn't believe she was thinking such things in the midst of being kidnapped, but she couldn't help it –Thorne was about the hottest man she'd ever laid eyes on.
"Then what's next?" she said. "We go to New York and you just drop me off with my new…owners?"
"More or less," said Thorne. "I need to check in with the client; they're gonna want to get a good look at you. Then they'll let me know what the next move is. Hopefully, we can take off in the morning."
"How are we getting back? Plane?"
"Nope," said Thorne. "Too much heat at airports. And I don't trust you to not make a scene and get us both in some serious fucking trouble. We're gonna drive."
"Great," said Adelaide. "Twenty hours in a car with my kidnapper."
But as much as she hated to admit it, the thought thrilled her a little bit. Before she could give the matter too much consideration, however, a chime sounded through the house.
"What's that?" asked Adelaide, looking around. "Someone here?"
"No," said Thorne. "It's my clients; they're calling to check in on everything. They're going to want to take a look at you, and if you know what's good for you, you won't say a goddamn word. Got it?"
Adelaide could only nod.
Thorne took a sip of his coffee and gestured for Adelaide to follow him. He led her through the winding hallways of the home, the two of them eventually ending up in an office with dark décor, a massive TV hanging over a black marble fireplace. Thorne picked up a remote from the massive black desk in the middle of the room and flicked the TV on, the screen filling with the image of three people, an older man and a woman, and a younger man with a prim, snotty expression on his face. The three individuals all had the same elegant, aristocratic look, and all were stunningly gorgeous in their own way.
"Thorne," said the man, his voice rich and his accent old-fashioned, his eyes latching onto Adelaide, "I see that our money has thus far been well-spent."
"Mr. Abruzzi," said Thorne, his tone respectful, "good to see you. As you can see, I have the package."
Abruzzi? thought Adelaide. Is that who these people are? They seem so strange, like they're from another time.
Adelaide bristled at being referred to in such a way.
"I can see that," said the woman. "And she's looking just as fit and fine as we've been led to believe."
"That's her?" asked the younger man, who appeared to Adelaide to be about her age. "I think…she'll do nicely."
"Hush," said Mr. Abruzzi. "I didn't choose her so that you'd have someone to ogle over. You have plenty of…toys to entertain yourself with. This girl is about something more than that."
What the hell are they talking about? Adelaide thought to herself. What's this all about?
"I hear from your team that you encountered a bit of an issue last night when retrieving the package," said Mr. Abruzzi.
"Yes," said Thorne. "But nothing I wasn't able to handle."
"Good," said Mr. Abruzzi. "But this has given us reason for concern. It obviously means that we're not the only family with our eyes on this one."
Adelaide couldn't take it any longer. Being talked about like she was some piece of merchandise was more than she could stand. Bolting up from her seat, she cleared her throat and spoke.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Who the hell are you, and what you are doing with me?"
Silence fell on the room. Adelaide stood frozen for a moment, as if coming back to her senses after being possessed. Her eyes shot to Thorne, who was now glaring at her hard. The family on the TV, on the other hand, didn't seem to have been bothered in the slightest.
After a few moments, the patriarch spoke.
"I see this one has spunk," he said, his tone one of evaluation, as if he were buying a car and the salesman had just finished showing him what it could do.
"Indeed," said the woman. "Though I'm not sure if ‘spunk' is entirely what we're looking for, for what we have in mind for her."
The younger man's mouth twisted up into a pleased smile as he leaned forward.
"I like it," he said. "She already seems more interesting than the others."
They seemed to be speaking in a purposefully cagey language, and it drove Adelaide mad. It became clear to her that she wasn't going to be getting any answers. Thorne gestured for her to sit her butt back down right then and there. Adelaide realized that she had no other option but to comply.
"Are we still going to be keeping her in the dark?" asked Thorne. "Keeping both of us in the dark?"
"Need-to-know, Mr. Lewis," said Mr. Abruzzi. "Need-to-know. That lovely little specimen will have all the answers she desires once she arrives in New York. All you need to know, on the other hand, is that you'll be paid handsomely for this assignment, just as we agreed."
"Fine with me," said Thorne. "Just so long as you're not keeping anything from me. I had to fight off a fucking merc last night while I was picking this one up, after all."
"Yes," said Mr. Abruzzi. "That is a troubling development. But rest assured, we'll be giving the issue the attention that it deserves. Until then, we expect you to complete the assignment as requested. That is all."
With that, the screen turned black.
"What the fuck was that?" demanded Thorne, turning an angry glare toward Adelaide.
"I couldn't take it anymore," she said. "I couldn't stand them talking about me like that."
"Get fucking used to it," he said. "A family as powerful as they are talks to people like us however the hell they want. You're lucky they didn't seem to give a damn about you speaking out of turn like that."
"And you're just fine with all of this? Getting ordered around like some kind of attack dog?"
"It's what I'm good at," said Thorne. "What can I say?"
Adelaide harrumphed and crossed her arms under her breasts.
"I don't get how you can act like that," she said. "Just doing what other people pay you to do, not asking any questions."
"As long as the money's good, I don't give a good goddamn," said Thorne, getting up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the desk.
Adelaide wondered just what kinds of other jobs a mercenary like Thorne had performed. The effect of knowing that she was in the same room as a professional killer was strange to her. On the one hand, she was frightened. But on the other, she was a little thrilled.
"We've got the day to kill, so try to relax," said Thorne, preparing to leave.
"'Relax'?" asked Adelaide. "How the hell am I supposed to relax in a situation like this?”
Thorne shrugged.
"There's a pool out back; go sunbathe or something. Plenty of girl clothes in that bedroom you were in."
Adelaide wanted to scream. She couldn't believe Thorne was treating this like they were housesitting.
"And maybe if you're good, I'll make dinner," said Thorne with a sly smile.
And then he was gone.
Adelaide was left alone with her frustration. She was a prisoner scheduled to be sent to live with some strange family in New York the next day, and now she had nothing to do but roam around some massive house in the middle of nowhere. She wanted her phone, she wanted to talk to her friends, to tell them to come get her so she could put all this insanity behind her. But it was impossible.
She checked out the property, trying to find some avenue of escape. The more she looked, however, the more she realized that Thorne was right – there was no getting out of here. The windows and doors were all locked, the glass was made of some material too thick to break through, and even if she were able to leave, the gates surrounding the property were too tall to scale. Then there was the matter of being smack-dab in the middle of some forgotten bayou.
Might as well make the best of this, thought Adelaide.
Returning to the bedroom where she'd woken up, she went through the dressers and, sure enough, found some women's clothing. Taking a one-piece bathing suit, she grabbed a towel from the bathroom and headed outside to the pool. The door leading to the backyard was one of the few unlocked, and she was certain that Thorne was keeping a close eye on it through the house's security system.
Laying out her towel, she found a spot by the pool and stretched out on top of it. Time trickled by, and laying there in the warm sun, Adelaide managed to relax, if only a little bit.
The gruff voice of Thorne from behind her snapped her out of her reverie.
"We got steak, and more steak," he said.
Adelaide opened her eyes and saw that Thorne was standing over her, his huge, built body blocking out the last traces of the day's sun like some sort of monumental statue.
"You're serious about dinner?" asked Adelaide?
"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Thorne. "You haven't had a damn thing to eat all day."
"Guess I haven't really been in the mood for it, what with the ‘being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery' thing."
Thorne snorted.
"'Sex slavery'?" he asked. "Don't flatter yourself."
Then his mouth formed into a little smirk. Adelaide couldn't help but slap his leg as hard as she could.
"Calm down, kiddo," said Thorne. "Anyway, you need to eat something. Finish up out here, go take a shower, and be ready to eat."
Then he was gone.
Adelaide tried to imagine forcing down the anxiety boiling in her long enough to have something to eat. It was about the least appealing thing she could imagine, but she knew Thorne was right that she needed to get something in her. She laid poolside until the sun dipped a little further toward the horizon and a mild chill slipped into the air. Then, she headed back inside and took a quick shower, doing her best to relax and let the tension melt out of her body.
Once she was done, it was around early evening. Throwing on some clothes from the dresser and stepping out of her room, she smelled the scent of cooking meat on the air. Though she was still tight with nerves, she couldn't help but feel her mouth water a little bit at this. Adelaide stepped down the grand staircase, the smell growing with each stair she descended. The soft sounds of jazz filled the air from some faraway stereo system.
Entering the kitchen, she laid eyes on Thorne standing at the stove, his sleeves rolled up around his forearms as he flipped a couple of steaks on a massive stainless-steel pan.
"There she is," he said, dumping the two enormous pieces of sizzling meat onto a pair of plates, followed by some vegetables that had been cooking on another burner. "Hope you're ready for some grub."
"I suppose I am," said Adelaide, the whole scene striking her as a little strange.
"What?" said Thorne, apparently noticing how he was looking at her.
"Oh, nothing," she said. "Just didn't expect to come down here and see you making food while listening to jazz."
"Huh?" he said. "Oh, it helps me concentrate. Why – you surprised?"
"Maybe a little," she said, leaning forward on the counter. "You just don't strike me as the type. What with the tattoos and everything."
And the muscles, she thought to herself, but wisely choosing to keep that observation secret.
"And what did you expect a guy like me would do for dinner?" he said, placing the vegetables on the plates next to the meat.
"I don't know," said Adelaide. "You kind of strike me as more of a ‘fast food burrito with a beer with some heavy metal playing' type."
"Who's to say that isn't my jam?" he asked. "Maybe I'm trying to impress you."
Adelaide didn't need it explained to her that he was being about as smart-assey as it got.
"Anyway, it's ready," he said. "I got some of that fancy-ass wine they got in the cellar. Go grab a seat."
Adelaide went into the dining room where a couple of places had been set on the long, black table. She took a seat and reached for the bottle of wine on the table, noticing that the bottle looked ancient, as though it were as old as the house itself.
"I almost don't want to open this," she said as Thorne entered the dining room with the two plates in hand. "It looks like it should be in a museum or something."
"You can do whatever you want with that bottle," he said, setting the plates down. "I'm more interested in what's inside."
"Can't say I disagree with that," said Adelaide, handing the bottle over to Thorne.
Seconds later, he had it opened and was pouring two glasses of ruby-colored wine for the both of them. Then, he plopped into the chair across from her.
"What, you waiting to say grace? Dig in."
With that, Thorne set into the meat in front of him, ripping it apart effortlessly and shoving forkful after forkful into his mouth. Adelaide watched him eat for a time, noting that he was eating it like a ferocity that was almost animalistic. She poked at the meat on her plate, grease and thin blood seeping out of it. Though she still felt a little ill at ease, by now, she was too hungry to care. Adelaide first took a long sip of wine before cutting into the meat, feeling better as soon as the first sip and forkful was in her belly.
The more she ate, however, the more she felt something brew up inside of her. Her eyes flicked over to Thorne, who was happily chowing down on his meal, apparently not affected by a care in the world. She realized that she felt angry.
"What?" said Thorne, looking up at Adelaide as he wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I still can't believe this bullshit," she said, the words shooting out of her like little daggers. "Sitting here eating a nice meal, trying to forget that I'm getting shipped off to New York tomorrow to be sold like property."
"Technically, you're not getting sold," said Thorne, the hint of a shit-eating grin on his face. "If you're property, it's more like you're getting stolen."
"Fuck you," said Adelaide, throwing down her napkin on the table. "I know you're a heartless psycho and that this is just a job for you, but you've ripped me away from my life and now you're sitting there eating a steak like it's nothing."
"Bouncing around from major to major, job to job, your only friends being a couple of party girls who can't hold their booze – some life I was taking you away from."
"But I had a home, I had…things!" shouted Adelaide. "And now I'm going to be…what? What's going to happen to me once you drop me off? You don't know because you don't care. You're just in this to get paid, and you don't give a good goddamn about what happens to me or whatever other girl you do this to. You're…you're a sex trafficker for hire! That's all you are!"
Despite the venom dripping from Adelaide's words, Thorne didn't seem to be bothered by anything she had to say. Instead, he poured himself another glass of wine, raising the drink to his lips, and downed half of it with a single swig.
"This is actually my first time doing this," he said. "The ‘kidnapping a girl' thing. Mostly, I do escort work, bodyguard jobs – stuff like that. Assassinations, if I'm lucky."
"Assass-" said Adelaide, not believing what she was hearing, but stopping herself before she could ask. "Well, I guess now you can add human trafficking to your oh-so-impressive resume."
Thorne said nothing, and Adelaide got the impression he was waiting for her to tire out.
"What kind of person are you, anyway?" she asked. "You just take whatever job you get offered, no questions asked? Isn't there honor among thieves or something?"
"'Honor among thieves' means we don't screw each other over people in the same biz. But yeah, I take whatever job's offered to me, so long as the necessary backwork's been done and the client's ready to pay. Why should I care what jobs I have to do, just as long as the money's good?"
Adelaide realized that the odds of her getting through to Thorne were very, very slim. He continued to eat and drink, and Adelaide slumped into her chair, defeated. Her eyes flicked up to him as he dined, and she couldn't help but think about how goddamn good-looking he was. It was like insult to injury that the man putting her through this nightmare made her hornier than she'd ever remembered being. It struck her as some kind of a sick, cosmic joke.
Once Thorne was done, he polished off the rest of his wine and tossed his napkin onto his plate.
"Pretty damn good cook, if you ask me," he said.
Adelaide opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could come out, a noise ripped through the dining room. It was a terrible noise, like metal was being smashed and ground – almost like a building was collapsing.
"What the fuck?" said Thorne, shooting up from his chair and running to the back of the house toward the sound.
Adelaide's heart pounded in her chest. More noises boomed from behind the house, these sounding like massive footsteps from…something. She rushed to Thorne's side by the back windows of the house.
She couldn't believe what she laid eyes on.
At the far end of the backyard was a pair of enormous beasts that looked to Adelaide like dinosaurs. They were huge, easily at least twenty feet tall, with gray, scaled skin and fearsome faces. They'd smashed through the towering fence surrounding the property and were making their way toward the house, growing closer with each passing second.
Once the pair of beasts stopped at the edge of the swimming pool, stretching out a pair of mighty wings from their backs and letting out deafening roars, Adelaide realized just what these things were.
They were dragons.