Syrena

Hours pass before I hear another sound.

He must be awake.

I yawn and rub my face against my shoulder, forcing myself to wake up.

I barely closed my eyes last night. Even though the bed was comfy, I couldn’t sleep, preferring to sit on the floor. It made me feel grounded. Safe.

But it hasn’t done my brain any good. I’m so goddamn sleepy that my eyes are droopy, and it’s hard to stay awake … but I have to be alert when he comes in to the room.

When the door creaks again, my muscles go rigid.

I wait.

In he steps.

He closes the door behind him and makes his way toward me. I can smell milk and something else … something sweet.

“I brought you some cereal and a bagel,” he says with a soft voice that almost sounds kind.

I swallow back the saliva as he brings it up to my nose, and the scents drift into my nostrils.

“Go on … take a bite,” he says.

And I do. God, I’d fucking do whatever he wants me to if I could have it all. I haven’t had good food in such a long time; it makes me moan a little.

He snorts.

Shit.

I chew slower and try not to make a sound while swallowing. I’m embarrassed, though it was definitely worth it just to taste that bagel.

When it’s gone, he pushes a spoonful of milk and cereal against my mouth, and I gleefully take a bite.

“Like that?” he asks.

I nod slowly as I chew.

“Good. I wasn’t sure what kind of foods you’d like or if you had any allergies, so I just went with the regular stuff. But if you have a preference, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

I swallow it down. “Why?” The question slips out of my mouth.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

Why does he even care so much?

What happened to the man who chased me, and who is this?

Does he have two personalities?

“I don’t understand,” I mutter.

“I want you to be happy, I suppose,” he replies, shoving another spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

Is that why he’s feeding me?

But it makes no sense. He’s keeping me locked up in a room. That’s not making someone happy. I’m a prisoner in his home.

When he tries to push another spoon in, I pull away and frown. “You tried to kill me … didn’t you?”

He sighs, and I hear the spoon fall into the bowl.

“I can’t deny that.”

I suck in a breath.

“But I’m a changed man now.”

“Why? What did I ever do to you?” I ask.

“Nothing. That’s the exact reason I chose you.”

I don’t understand any of it.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll understand … someday,” he mumbles as if he’s overthinking things when it should be easy.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my knee. I stiffen while he caresses me softly. Not sexually … just … nice. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore. I promise.”

“How can I trust you?” I ask.

“I’m feeding you now. Isn’t that a sign of good faith?” he says, and his hand lifts from my knee. The spoon moves again.

“But …”

The spoon rests against my lips again. “Eat.”

Even though I hate it, I do because I’m hungry. I need the food to sustain myself.

Still, it doesn’t mean I can suddenly trust him.

It’ll take much more than that from a man who pushed a knife into my skin.

When the bowl is empty, he places it somewhere. Then he grabs my chin and turns my head toward him. “You have … beautiful eyes.”

“Th-thank you.” I don’t even know why I say thank you. Part of me wants to spit in his face right now, but that’ll put my well-being in jeopardy. I have to be smart.

That … and his voice when he said it made me blush.

“Do you want to go home?”

What?

The sudden question makes my heart skip a beat.

“I …” I don’t even know what I want. “Home … isn’t a place I know. I don’t have one.”

It takes him a few seconds to respond. “You don’t have a home to return to?”

I shake my head.

“Where did you sleep before Graham got to you?”

“Above Roy’s Strip Club.”

“Strip club?” His jaw clenches. I can hear it when he speaks.

“I worked there as a server and cleaned up after hours in exchange for a place to stay.”

“Oh.” It sounds as though he’s drifted off into his thoughts. “Was the owner … good to you?”

I shake my head and bite my lip. “He … put his hands on me sometimes.” I run my fingers over a scar on my shoulder. “I got this after he pushed me, and I fell into a glass table. Had to clean it up afterward too,” I say. “Sometimes, he’d make me dance in front of a crowd just so he could earn a bit more cash. Said I needed to earn my stay because I was useless.”

Chase growls. He actually growls, without saying a word.

Then everything goes quiet. For so long that I wonder if he’s still here.

“How did Graham treat you?” he asks suddenly.

I swallow away the lump in my throat. “He made me dance until my feet bled.”

“Damn …” he says through gritted teeth. When I wait, he adds, “Continue.”

“We had a tiny living space. No fresh air. Although we did have a shower and a bed, which was more than I had in the second cage. Still, I didn’t see the outside for months. And he didn’t feed us enough.”

“Us?” he mutters. “You weren’t alone in the cage?”

“I had … friends.” Just thinking about Cage and Ella makes me choke up.

I wonder how they’re doing.

“He made them do … things together.”

“I see …” he mumbles, but I can’t gage his feelings from his reaction, which is odd.

I’m almost always able to hear what someone feels just by listening to their voice.

But with Chase, it’s as if he’s concealing a part of himself.

“Do you miss them?” he asks.

I nod. “Very much. They … they don’t even know if I’m alive.” Tears well in my eyes again, but I push them away.

He takes a deep breath before replying. “Would you like to send them a message?”

“What?” My jaw drops.

I can’t believe what he just suggested. Is this real?

“Right now, I can’t get them out of there. But I can send Graham a picture of you and tell him to give it to them, so they’ll know you’re still alive. Just tell me what to write.”

“You’d … do that for me?” I’m completely stunned.

“Yeah. Just think about it for a while.” He caresses my cheek again and wipes away a tear that managed to escape. Damn. I didn’t want him to see me cry, but the thought of sending them something, anything, fills me with hope … which is something I haven’t felt in such a long time.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” he says, his voice dark but laced with regret. “Understand?”

I nod softly.

His fingers leave my face. “I’m bad, Syrena. You should know that.”

“But—”

Suddenly, he grabs my shoulders and says, “Call me a monster. Say it to my face.”

“What?” I mutter, surprised by the sudden change of his character.

“Say it!” he yells.

“You’re … a monster,” I say, confused as fuck.

The shaking stops, but his hands are still clutching my shoulders, his nails digging into me.

“You’re hurting me,” I say.

He immediately releases me.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he gets up from the floor. “I shouldn’t have.”

As he stomps off, I call out. “Wait!”

His footsteps stop.

“Will I ever … be allowed out?” I ask.

He sighs softly. “Maybe. If you promise you won’t escape.”

No matter how hard I try, my mouth doesn’t open. My lips refuse to utter the words.

So he walks out and closes the door behind him.

Shit.

* * *

Chase

Fuck.

I felt so bad for putting her through all that.

I had to get out of there before I succumbed. Before …

Fuck.

Every time I see her face, I just want to hug her. And those lips as she gulps down the food are … goddamn sinful.

I can’t stop thinking about prying them open with my tongue.

No.

That’s the last thing I should be thinking about right now.

She hates me, and she should. I did something horrible to her. She deserves better than this.

But fuck, I need her.

I need her more than she knows.

If I’d known she was in such a terrible place, that Graham was treating her so badly, I would’ve gotten her out much sooner.

I would’ve gone over to Graham’s and pulled her out without question. I don’t even care how much I’d need to pay just to have her … and her friends, for that matter.

Shit.

I run my fingers through my hair and pace up and down the hallway.

I knew he was fucked up for keeping them locked in cages, but I thought he was only selling them to others. I didn’t know he was using some of them for himself too. That changes the entire game.

Did he use Syrena too?

Did he touch her the way I can only dream of touching her?

“Fuck!”

The moment I pass the mirror, I stop in my tracks and stare myself down.

Fuck this man staring right back at me.

Fuck this man who doesn’t know wrong from right.

Fuck this man who did the unthinkable …

Just fuck.

In an instant, my fist slams into the mirror, smashing it to pieces.

Glass flies everywhere, littering the floor.

Some shards pierce my hand.

I stretch out my fingers and watch the blood run down my hand. Damn. That hurt. But it felt so good too.

Shaking the remnants of glass from my hand, I grab my cell phone and call Brandon.

“Hey. Have some new names on the list?” I hiss.

“Hi to you too. Yeah, I have some.”

“Just get me a name. Anything. I don’t care. I need to get my fix.”

“What? Already?”

“Yes, now,” I growl.

“Geez, all right, dude. Calm down,” he says.

“No, I’m not fucking calm,” I say, glaring at my bloody fingers. “I just broke a fucking mirror because she’s here.”

“Then get rid of her.”

“Stop fucking suggesting the impossible!” I yell. “You know I need her, and you know damn well why.”

“Guess it isn’t working as well as you hoped then. Also, I’m pretty sure she can hear you now.”

“I don’t fucking care! Get me a name. I’ll take care of it on my own.”

Sometimes, I really regret leaving the list to him. Maybe I should start keeping my own again.

Before he can throw me another witty remark, I hang up.

He knows just as well as I do how bad shit can get when I’m this agitated.

And he doesn’t want me on his bad side.

That, I’m sure of.