And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men…

Memories were clashing inside her as she fought her way free from the depths of sleep. Strange and twisted flashes that surfaced and disappeared as fast as they appeared. Her father’s voice reading nursery rhymes from memory as he brushed her hair as a child. Small hands turning the colorful pages of the book. The twinge when one of her strands caught in the brush as a woman’s voice overwhelmed the story, crying and screaming just out of sight. His hand picking up the fallen book from the floor. Whispers. A door shutting. Another page turning as her father’s baritone washed over her…

They could never put Humpty Dumpty together again.

With a groan, Lianna tore herself from the haunting dream and turned over on the cold floor, opening her eyes to dim light. Still naked, but no longer bound. The chair was gone and the room was empty now. Well, empty except for a recessed corner that held a toilet and the kind of water faucet usually found outside. Her eyes wandered up — every one of the red dots in the ceiling were glowing.

Damn him.

He was watching her.

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest to hide her nakedness — not like it mattered — he’d seen every inch of her.

Tenderly, she touched the raw skin of her wrists, the flesh broken in places, already scabbing. Nothing to be done for them. Her ankles were reddened but otherwise okay, however the welts across her thighs and breasts were impossible to ignore. Angry and red and raised on her skin, a few spots darkened by growing bruises. She wanted to scream, to rant and rave, but there was no use. The only one who would answer was the one she didn’t want to.

Lianna wrapped her arms around her shins and curled up tight, rocking slightly as she tried to make her mind work. She was smarter than this. Smarter than this damsel in distress act. Assholes always underestimated her, never looking deep enough to figure out that she might actually know something. Might actually be smart and blonde. It had happened in school, it happened every damn day at Mercier Systems — but unlike all of that bullshit, in this case being underestimated might just save her life.

Think. Fucking think, Lianna. What information do you have?

She made herself remember the outline of him, the rough timbre of his voice, but she had no idea who he was. His voice wasn’t familiar, nothing about him drew on a memory, and he obviously knew too much about her already.

Not a good start.

He had said her father had ruined people, but what had he meant? As far as she knew, the company had never done a layoff, Mercier Systems had expanded too fast for that. In fact, the company was actively recruiting and acquiring other companies to expand reach internationally. And how the hell would a technology company ruin anyone? More bullshit. He was probably just insane. After all, sane people didn’t kidnap other people, or assault them, which wasn’t comforting at all.

Move on, Lianna.

She started to chew on her thumbnail, an old, nervous habit that let her focus as her eyes traced the room. The television was off and useless, especially behind the thick plastic case surrounding it. Near the door a small tray caught her eye, but she stared at the door first. Heavy, industrial, and likely locked. A guaranteed waste of time.

There had to be a way out of this. If he wanted money why didn’t he just say so? Her bank accounts probably held more than enough to satisfy whatever fucking demands he had. There had been no need to hurt her, to do the things he’d done. As her stomach twisted and her mind spun in circles, her eyes drifted back to the door.

You know it’s locked, her mind chided her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered under her breath.

Deciding it was better to know, she rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and stood. As she moved towards it, she kept one arm across her breasts, realizing the futility of the action even while she maintained what little modesty she could. Testing the handle gingerly, she sighed when it barely shifted. Not just locked, but impassable. The thing might as well be another part of the concrete.

Looking down, she wrinkled her nose at what she saw. The tray on the floor held a plastic cup of what looked like water, and a simple sandwich. Unidentifiable meat between white bread. She wanted to leave it, to be like one of those people who did hunger strikes to stand for something, but her throat was so fucking dry. The result of whatever he’d drugged her with along with all of the screaming.

Don’t think about that right now.

Sliding to the floor beside it, she watched the food for a while, debating inside as to whether she should risk it, as if the disgusting little sandwich might suddenly start talking so she wasn’t just going around in circles by herself. It could all be drugged, poisoned, but as terrible as he had been, he seemed to want her alive. Deciding to test it, she committed to a single taste of each, but the first sip of water undid her. As her stomach growled, she emptied the cup and hurried to refill it from the corner before she ate the sandwich in slow bites, hunkered down across the room from the door.

As the food settled, her head seemed clearer, the cobwebs fading away, but along with the clarity came the return of the panic. He had recorded what he’d done to her in the apartment, and in this room. He had made videos. Was the man really sending them to her father? Was he sending them to other people, or posting them across the internet? Had she really come underneath him as he’d forced her over the couch?

The soreness between her legs and the sudden wash of shame verified the last part, but only time would answer the first. A sickening twist of her stomach almost brought the sandwich back up. She couldn’t imagine her father seeing those videos, either one, and the worst part of it all was that she knew the man wasn’t done. If he were done, she’d be out of the damn room — or she’d be dead.

That was not something she was interested in waiting for.

She needed answers. Needed more information. Needed to figure out a way out. And there was only one way to do that.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked towards the ceiling, making eye contact with one of the red dots that floated near the recessed lights that were far out of reach. When no response came after a few minutes she felt a flash of anger. “Hey! Asshole! Why the fuck are you doing this to me?!”

The dull silence that echoed back at her was infuriating. She’d always gone out of her way to be kind, to know the names of the people who worked for her father. There was never a time she left out a please or a thank you, and she was proud of that. Hell, she called her father’s head of security Uncle Mike. She wasn’t like her stuck up friends, so caught up in their wealth they didn’t even bother to try. Yet, here she was — naked, bruised, violated, alone.

And you could have been on a yacht with Denise.

Rage prodded her and made her growl at the unfairness of it all.

“I don’t even know who you are!” Lianna stood and screamed at a different camera. “I haven’t done a fucking thing to you, so what do you want? Money? Just tell me how much you want!” Her voice was raw, the lingering ache in her throat from his rough chokeholds made her run out of steam faster than she wanted, but nothing happened. Tearing her fingers into her hair, she pulled at the roots like she could hold herself together if she could just keep her head from coming apart. Emotion roared through her as the situation settled over her. Kidnapped, assaulted, and apparently being used as a pawn against her father by a psychopath.

“Answer me, you son of a bitch!” Reaching down, she snagged the tray off the floor and threw it at one of the cameras — it missed — but the television flared to life showing a vibrant number five.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” She walked over to the television and slammed her hands against the plastic case that protected it. The number ticked down to four, and then continued dropping as she started talking. “Is this the deal, you’ll only talk to me when you have me pinned down or tied up? You know what? Fuck you! You’re a twisted, fucking—”

The screen showed a one, turned red, and then flicked off, just before the heavy metal door opened.

Lianna turned fast and forced herself to hold her ground. His dark outline in the doorframe made her stomach flip flop, but she swallowed down the sudden nausea. Adopting the voice she used during negotiations, she tried to meet his eyes. “I want answers.”

“No, princess, you don’t.” His voice was clear and threatening, but she stayed strong.

“What do you think my father did to you? Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t think anything, I know, and I’m sick of listening to you shouting. Shut the fuck up, or I’ll gag you.” He had one large, gloved hand on the door to hold it open, and she could see a plain looking cement hallway behind him. Nothing helpful.

“Then why not just fucking tell me? Just tell me why you’re doing this! Tell me what you want!”

“Don’t push me.”

“Why not? Are you going to kill me?” She wasn’t sure where the question had come from, but it was somewhere deep inside her, somewhere underneath all of the helpful logic she’d been nursing since she’d woken up. When he laughed, a low and sinister sound, Lianna took a step backwards.

“No.” His head tilted. “Not yet anyway. Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep your fucking mouth shut until I tell you to speak?”

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat, and then he stepped into the room. Backing away fast, she tried to circle him, to stay out of his reach, but her back collided with the wall when he suddenly lengthened his strides. With a quick movement he caught her, his large hand wrapped around her arm to throw her to the floor like a ragdoll. Landing hard on her side, she tried to scramble away, but he was on top of her too quickly. One hand gripped her throat and squeezed as he dropped a knee between her thighs, forcing her legs apart.

“Want to repeat that?” The menacing question was punctuated with a tighter grip that threatened her airway and made her cough as she grabbed onto his wrist. “Hmm?”

“Pl—” She tried to beg but was cut off with a choking sound as his thumb dug harder into the tender column of her neck.

“I don’t think you understand your place in this situation. You are nothing more than a conveniently useful tool in my plans. The fact that I can fuck you to torture your piece of shit father is just a bonus, but if you continue to piss me off I will start to really hurt you. Do you understand?” His low laugh returned from behind his featureless mask, those tawny eyes taunting her with his clear enjoyment of her suffering. “Nod for me, whore.”

She nodded, and his crushing grip released. Her first breath was a cough, and he ran one gloved finger over her cheek.

“Now, you’re going to keep your fucking mouth shut and not irritate me anymore. Isn’t that right?”

With a painful swallow, she nodded again, and a shiver ran over her as his eyes wandered down her naked body. Whether he had meant it to be an unspoken threat or not, she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do against his strength. If he wanted to hurt her, he would. If he wanted to fuck her again, he would. If he wanted to kill her—

“That’s a good slut. I’ll be back later. We’re just waiting to see what Daddy thought of your performances.” He stroked down her neck, brushing her breast before he pushed himself up, one foot planted between her legs as he towered above her. “You should pray that you were convincing.”

Lianna stayed on her back as he stepped over her and moved towards the door. He scooped the tray from the floor and then yanked the heavy metal open, and she waited to hear it shut and lock before she sat up slowly. Her throat was a circlet of pain as she pulled her legs tight to her chest. Wiping roughly at the tears slipping over her cheeks, she tried to stop the shaking to no avail.

Above her, the cameras winked back on one by one.

“I’m sorry, Dad…” she whispered into the emptiness, wondering if he would ever hear her apology, or if she had just made a terrible, mortal error.