Dom

 

Nothing happened on the way to the basement.

 

But as soon as the doors opened there, I had to take a deep breath. I’d never been to Versailles, but this hall of mirrors certainly earned the descriptive title just as much, though in a much shadier perspective. The carpeting was a deep red, like blood. The ceiling was black, and the doors were painted cream. It could have been used as part of the set in The Shining. There were mirrors everywhere along the walls where there weren’t doors, with dimly lighted sconces interspersed, so it was impossible to tell how long the hallway was, nor how many doors and lights there were. It looked like it went on and on forever. It was like being in the madhouse at a fucking freak show.

 

What made my entry here a gazillion times worse were the sounds of life: an eerily keening voice, high-pitched. I didn’t think it was Sienna—I had never heard anything like it from her before. It was counterpointed with a man’s loud grunts, definitely of the powerful thrusting kind.

 

I was listening to a rape; there’s no way it could have been anything else.

 

The problem was that the sounds almost seemed to echo in the hallway, and there was a third voice—god, was that Sienna?—moaning as well, which seemed to be separate but somehow also in conjunction with the feminine sounds of Fielding’s current victim. It confused my comprehension somewhat, and my instinct to go to her first warred with my need to help the woman in obvious and immediate need.

 

My blood was pounding in my veins in rage and frustration, and adrenaline, too.

 

So I headed toward the first sounds I had identified, starting at an almost-run down that endless-seeming hallway from hell. It was disconcerting, the optical illusion with all the mirrors and sconces and doors, and with not knowing how far I needed to go.

 

I found that keeping my focus on the mirror facing me at the far end of the hallway was the best way to manage understanding the space visually. Then I relied on my ears alone to pinpoint the sounds. I slowed as they got closer, and it took me too many moments to finally zone in on one door in the middle of the hallway. Or, it appeared to be in the middle. Fuck, everything was in the middle.

 

Didn’t matter. I found the door, I was pretty sure.

 

I sent up a silent prayer that I was making the right choice, to help this woman before Sienna. Then I braced myself to power into the room.

 

I raised my gun to my shoulder, put my back to the wall by the door, and took a deep breath, ready to rain hell on Fielding, and hoping with all of my heart that the woman inside was not Sienna.

 

It flashed in my mind that it might have been Zoe. God, I hoped not. I wanted to find her, but not like this.

 

When I threw open the door, in a semicrouch with my gun in front of me with both hands, I found myself standing directly in front of another door made of bars of steel, and what I perceived to be a cage—the woman was strapped to a table inside the cage, so Fielding, too, was inside it. I stepped in far enough to give me a clear shot at him. I wasn’t worried that he’d have a gun ready to counter my own; he had obviously been otherwise occupied before my entrance.

 

I immediately targeted Fielding’s left side, which was facing me as he faced his victim, who was naked and trussed up on the table like a fucking turkey.

 

He was shirtless, and his pants were falling partway down his legs. And he was, indeed, raping her viciously.

 

“Get the fuck off of her, you motherfucker, now!” I heard myself roar.

 

Fielding’s head snapped in my direction at the intrusion to his sick scene, his eyes wide open in surprise and displeasure, and his body kind of slowly stopped pumping. He clearly had not anticipated a third-party entrance. My nostrils flared in satisfaction; I was at a distinct advantage here.

 

“I said, get off of her. Now!” I shifted the sights of my gun slightly to the right so I would hit the wall behind him and pulled the trigger. The bullet went past him and embedded in the wall. That got his attention, and he did as told.

 

Like a coward, he dove behind her and the table she was strapped to. Her keening had stopped upon my entrance, most likely out of shock, but her breath came back, and with it came sobs.

 

I didn’t want to look at her, but I was almost forced to, considering that he was using her body to mostly shield his own from the sights of my gun.

 

Fuck. It was Zoe. My jaw tightened, my eyes narrowed even more, and whatever patience I might have had snapped. “Get the fuck away from her. Stand up and move to the corner of the cage, right over here.” I indicated the way with a twitch of my head. “Put your hands up over your head and hold on to the bars, feet wide apart.”

 

He was not a stupid man. He had used the moments of hiding behind the table to return his pants to their proper position and do up his belt. He clearly trusted that I was not a homicidal maniac like he was, so he did as ordered, raising his hands in the air on his way to the indicated corner, where he turned his back to the bars and grabbed the ones above and behind his head.

 

It was likely that he thought this would give him some room in which to maneuver. We were roughly the same height, although I probably had him with about twenty-five more pounds of muscle, but our reaches would have been about the same.

 

I could see what he was thinking: hold on to the bars above and kick out at me, or some such thing. I was having none of it. This guy was sick, and I’d use whatever I had to take him down.

 

In true Indiana Jones style, I smirked. I had the gun.

 

I gave him fair warning. “Brace, man. You’d better hold on to those bars for your life, because if you fall, you might well lose it.”

 

I gave him a moment to comprehend what I had just said. I saw his hands tighten on the bars. Then, standing only a few feet away from him, I shot one knee and then the next in rapid succession. He screamed but did manage to hold himself up in between shots. As soon as the second knee went out, he lost his grip and went down hard on the floor, gasping and crying and shouting at once.

 

I didn’t give a fuck. He deserved every moment of pain, every drop of blood loss, and so much more. I let him cry it out. He was effectively hobbled, and that was all that mattered as far as I was concerned.

 

“You stay in that corner, you asswipe, and get your hands back up over your head and holding on to those bars, even if you have to do it on your ass. You stay down, but your hands stay up, you got me?”

 

He got me. His hands went up, and he lay there sniveling and bleeding with his legs splayed out at slightly odd angles. He’d be going nowhere fast on those.

 

Still, I kept my gun on him and him in my peripheral sights while I edged toward the table and to Zoe, whose sobs had finally stopped, probably due to shock from the gunshots and the sudden disappearance of the sick bastard from her line of sight.

 

I made sure I was staying closer to the cage door than Fielding could get and managed to locate the nearest knot above Zoe’s wrist. She was tied up in a way that screamed “sex slave.” I didn’t want to imagine what she had been going through, but I was damn glad to be able to get her out of here, finally. This girl needed out of here. And Clav needed his little girl back.

 

After what seemed like forever, and I was getting nowhere with that damned knot, I muttered, “Fuck it.” Her hand was free-ish, so I put my gun in it, pointed it in the direction of the slime writhing in the corner of the cage, and told her to keep it there and to shoot if he started moving in any direction.

 

That probably wasn’t the greatest plan.

 

She shouted, “Die, fucker! Die! Die! Die!” And she shot. And shot, and shot, and shot.

 

I slammed my body away from her and the gun, not wanting to be caught by a stray bullet. I went down out of instinct while she emptied the barrel on the asshole in the corner. Not all of her shots connected—in fact, I thought most of them didn’t—but I was pretty sure she nailed him a couple of times at least.

 

She was yelling and crying, he was yelling and crying, and I was just trying to get my bearings again. By the time it was clear she was done, he was still making noise, so it was obvious she hadn’t landed an immediate death blow. But if he’d had any plans to counterattack, he had certainly abandoned them by now. He was toast for the time being.

 

As quickly as I could, I took the gun back and set it on the floor, not near anyone’s reach. Then I went back to Zoe and tried to quiet her down while releasing her from her bonds with the help of my trusty switch blade.

 

“Shh, shh, Zoe, it’s okay. It’s all right. I’m here, it’s done, it’s over. Shh. It’s over.”

 

I don’t even know if she heard me. She was crying so hard, and once I got both her arms and legs free and finally cut the belt that had her around the middle, she just rolled over and would have fallen down straight to the floor if I hadn’t been there to catch her. As it was, she knocked me to the floor and ended up kind of curled in my lap. That was okay; if anyone needed a hug, it was this girl.

 

But I was aware she was naked, and she was aware, too. As fast as I could, I shucked my leather jacket and pulled it around her as gently as I could, having nothing else to offer her that might cover her better than that. She was small enough that it did the job. She pretty much swam in it.

 

Her breath was coming in deep gulps between sobs, and I knew it would be a while before she’d be able to calm down, but I was also getting really antsy to get up and get back out into that hallway and search for that other voice—god, I hoped it was Sienna’s—that I had heard. I couldn’t hear it anymore, not with Zoe’s gasping and sobbing and the sick bastard’s continuing whine.

 

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Zoe, honey, I have to get up. I think there’s somebody else down here. I have to go look.”

 

She paused in her weeping and nodded. “There is. There’s another one. She’s new. He was so…” Her voice was scratchy and weak, and she broke off. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me, but she either wasn’t able or wasn’t willing to find the words to convey her thoughts to me on the point.

 

“Okay. Okay, honey. Do you think you want to just sit here for a minute, maybe come out of the cage? We can shut him inside it. Or do you want to come with me? Can you stand up on your own? Do you need me to carry you?”

 

I maneuvered myself to my feet, letting my arms fall away from cradling her, and she let me go. While I retrieved my gun and holstered it, she crawled out of the cage as fast as she could in that big leather jacket of mine that fell almost to her knees. I followed her out. Then she indicated one of the switches by the door and said, “That one. Hit that one. The cage’ll lock him in.”

 

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise at the ease of it, the schematic use of modern technology in this man’s depravity. But I hit the switch, and sure enough the cage door hydraulically shut and locked with a loud steel clank. Fielding moaned, “No,” but he didn’t make much effort to move in any direction; he knew he was toast.

 

Zoe propped herself to sit up against the wall under the switches, and I told her with my eyes that I’d be back for her after I dealt with whatever came next. She seemed to get it; she nodded, and her eyes rested at half-mast on the slimebucket wheezing in the cage.

 

I slipped out and paused in the hall, not sure where to go, listening for that other voice.

 

Nothing.

 

“Hello? Is there anybody else down here? Where are you?” I called out.

 

“Dom? Dom?” It was Sienna. I almost cried to hear her; her voice was harsh and hoarse and held disbelief. And it was coming from the left. I immediately headed in that direction.

 

“Baby, keep talkin’ to me. I’m comin’ to you. Just keep sayin’ my name, okay?”

 

She put force into it. A lot. “Dom! Dom! Dom! Dom!” over and over again. My beautiful one had some lungs on her when she wanted to use ’em. My heart was pounding with pride and anticipation at seeing her, with fear of how she would be, with joy that she was alive.

 

I was close, then I passed it, so I backtracked to the appropriate door, yelling, “Get back from the door, baby, I’m comin’ in!” I flung open the door.

 

I guessed I needn’t have bothered to warn her; she, too, was caged up, so there was no way she could have been standing by the door to the cell. But she was on her feet, at least, not bound or gagged or anything.

 

Still, she looked weak. I’d never imagined Sienna could look so weak. She was practically wilting on her legs, her arms wrapped around the cage bars the only things keeping her vertical.

 

The tears I hadn’t been aware of behind my eyes tripped their way down my face at the sight of her. “Sienna, baby, I’m gonna flip the switch to open that door. You think you can move forward with it, or do you need a minute to skootch over to the side so I can come in and get you?”

 

She only nodded, breathing my name under her breath now, and not even making eye contact with me. I gave her a minute, but she made no move, so I flipped the switch and she shuffled her feet to keep up with the door as it swung open. It got her out of the cage, and I was right there to catch her as soon as I had access.

 

I had no idea what had happened to her, what she had been through in the hours we had been separated, but whatever it was, it was fierce. As soon as I had my arms around her, she collapsed. I tightened my hold on her torso with one arm and picked up her legs with the other, and she wrapped her arms around my head haphazardly, buried her face in my neck, and silently cried.

 

It was beautiful, and it was scary, and it was eerie, and it was maddening. I wanted to go back and kill Fielding immediately for whatever he did to cause this amazing woman to behave like…

 

I had never imagined Sienna behaving like this. I hated it. I loved that she trusted me so immediately and obviously, but I hated that she had been broken, that he had broken her.

 

I needed to know what he had done to her. I needed to help. I needed to fix her. I needed her to need me to. I needed to avenge her. I needed to never let her go.

 

I had no idea what to do.

 

“Baby, I’ve got you, now. Sienna, baby, I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve got you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

 

I realized quickly that she was shivering full body; she was cold. Without my jacket to offer, the only thing I had on was my T-shirt, which was hardly going to help much, but it might help a little. Anyway, it would give her some covering.

 

So I lifted my head and dragged it over myself, turned it around, and popped it on top of her. She slid her arms through and rewrapped herself around my torso, as if she was trying to bury herself in my skin. I wrapped myself around her as best I could, trying to give her as much body contact as possible, to give her my heat, to give her some comfort—to give myself comfort.

 

After several minutes, her rapid breathing calmed down some and she seemed less on the edge of panic. “I’ve got to get you out of here, baby. Upstairs, out of this place. And Zoe, too. She’s waiting down the hall. We gotta go, babe. You ready to go?” I had no idea if she knew who Zoe was, but she had obviously been aware of the presence of some other woman down in this hallway from hell; I knew that much from hearing them echoing each other’s pain. Damn, that seemed a lifetime ago already.

 

Sienna nodded and took a deep breath, bracing for the loss of my body heat, and probably also for the trek back upstairs. I stood us both up, steadying her with my hands on her waist until I was sure she could stand up on her own. She couldn’t. She was too unsteady, wobbly, weak.

 

Not knowing what her injuries were, and not knowing whether or not Zoe would be able to walk, either, I decided the first line of business was to make a phone call. I needed backup, stat.

 

“Dom, whatcha got?” Pres’s voice was warm and strong, a balm after this past hour of harrowing sounds only.

 

“I got your girl, Pres. I’ve got Zoe. You need to come here. She needs you, man.”

 

“Where?” His voice had suddenly lost its power; it was a whisper of hope.

 

I gave him the address and told him to bring backup. There was still Fielding to be dealt with. Both Pres and I were going to have our hands too full to handle that fucker appropriately.

 

It’d be a good half hour before they arrived, though, so I still had to figure out how to get the girls upstairs on my own. I was never so glad that I was addicted to my workouts. This would be an endeavor of pride for any man. I was ready to move; my adrenaline was kicking in again.

 

I squatted in front of Sienna and pulled her into my arms, then stood and finally brought her out into the hallway. It took me a minute to get my bearings, to remember which way I had to go.

 

I decided my best bet was to get Sienna to the elevator first, then return for Zoe on a separate trip. I was strong, but if I had to full-on carry Zoe, too, I’d just as soon do it without Sienna on me at the same time.

 

I’d successfully chosen the right direction to the elevator, and we arrived there in less than a minute. I carefully placed Sienna on the floor, making sure the tee was tucked under her sweet bum and that she’d be okay for the couple of minutes I’d be gone. She was shivering a lot less but still not meeting my eyes. That was a concern, but I didn’t have time in that moment to confront it.

 

Assuring her I’d be back quick as I could go, I pretty much ran down the hallway again, shouting out, “Zoe, I’m comin’ for you!”

 

Luckily, the door to her cell had remained open. I found her pretty easily, even though she hadn’t vocally responded to my heads-up. She was in the same exact position as when I’d left her; it was almost as though she had frozen there.

 

I noted that Fielding was still breathing—his chest was rising and falling—but it looked like he’d passed out from either pain or shock or loss of blood. I really didn’t give a shit. The cage door was still locked on him, and I knew he had nothing available in there with which to flip the switch to open it, should he regain enough consciousness and gumption to try. I did not see that happening, not with his known injuries. We were good to go.

 

I crouched in front of Zoe and gathered her up, torso in one arm, her knees under the other.

 

Zoe held my jacket over herself to shield her nakedness from me—not that I wanted to look; I did not. Poor thing probably had not been allowed to shield herself in any way, shape, or form since being taken, however many months ago that was. It was shocking that she was even allowing me to touch her, but she couldn’t have made it out of there on her own. So we both did what was necessary, and we did it with respect. At least, I hoped that was how she understood it. That’s what I was intending, anyway.

 

In quick time, I retraced my steps again and soon enough hit the elevator call button with two semi-comatose, traumatized angels at my feet.

 

I was almost overcome with emotion myself. I couldn’t believe my luck in finding both of them, alive, and in locking down Fielding well enough to get these women away from him and back to a safe zone. I knew they each had done some seriously heroic work as well, and I was proud to be there with them on that day. But more than anything else, I was just fucking grateful to have Sienna back, and to be able to return Zoe to her dad. I was just so fucking grateful.

 

We three rode the elevator back up to the first floor standing. I had one arm around each of their waists, and they leaned on me and did their best to support themselves on rubbery legs. And nobody said anything.

 

The doors soon slid open into the secret alcove behind the hydraulic bookcase, and I was looking down at the tops of their heads, in the middle of gently urging them forward baby step by baby step, when I heard an all-too-familiar nasal drawl. “Well, look at this. Not what I was expecting, but an interesting development, nevertheless. Hmm. What to do, what to do.”

 

My blood pumping again in almost immediate protective ferocity, I glared up at him under my brows, my head still tilted down to the ladies, and I might have growled.

 

Joey fucking Ronn had a gun trained on us and an evil smirk on his face. He was reclining in the armchair I had propped there to keep the damned bookcase open, and he looked like he’d been waiting there a while.

 

Fuck. My. Luck.