Property

by Renard, Loki

  “Are you enjoying your drink?” I gesture toward the tumbler he has in his hand.

  “It’s the good stuff,” he nods.

  “Same blend my father liked.” I smile coldly.

  He splutters and spits the alcohol out a second after he catches my threat. For them to eat and drink in front of me after having my father poisoned is arrogance of the highest order. I haven’t poisoned the food and drink, but I wish I had.

  “What? Something wrong? Worried about the catering?” I speak harshly, unable to hide my hatred.

  “That’s enough,” Darko says, his eyes glinting at me with a sharp look of warning. “The drink is fine and so is the food.”

  All around the room, drinks are surreptitiously put down.

  Nobody touches the sandwiches either. Or the cakes. A dozen hands return what was snatched up from the trays, a few with bites already taken. I enjoy the sick looks on their faces, the nervousness written in their eyes.

  I smirk to myself as Darko shoots me displeased glares. What did he expect? For me to sit and make polite conversation with these people?

  “Oh, I’m sorry, is the murder not as tasty when you’re the one on the receiving end?” I lift my voice and the moment becomes... awkward.

  One of them clears his throat. He’s a tall man with a mustache and a beard and an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. I can barely look at these men. Each and every one of them is less than human in my eyes.

  “Your father’s passing was a pity,” he begins.

  “It was a murder,” I retort.

  “It was necessary.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” I say those three words with pure ice and venom. If I could kill every one of these men I would. Right here. Right now. If I could find a gun, or some poison, hell, a heavy rock would do. But Darko won’t let me kill them. He’s been abundantly clear that a blood feud with these people isn’t something he wants. He wants me to let their evil slide, to simply go along with their plans, become another pretty thing they own.

  “I can’t say I’m impressed, Darko,” someone else chimes in. “She’s worse than the old man was before her. At least he knew to talk behind our backs.”

  “Maybe. But we couldn’t do this to him.”

  Darko swoops across the room and grabs me up from the chair. I tumble through the air and land across his thighs. I scream curse words as his palm finds my ass. He thrashes me mercilessly. Twelve hard slaps land, only twelve, but they are enough to utterly decimate me.

  I scream and curse and the worst part of it isn’t the pain, it’s the laughter. From the moment the first slaps land, the men start to laugh, their calls like jackals. They think I’m an amusement. He has humiliated me, made me small. He has taken my dignity and my fight, and now there is nothing left.

  I go limp across his lap. I let the slaps fall. I surrender to defeat.

  It stops. He lifts me up and he carries me from the room without a word to me, or to the men who laugh at my pain.

  “Shhh,” he says softly, pulling me against his hard body.

  He has never comforted me before. He has never bothered to make me feel better. He’s only ever tried to make me feel worse. Now I can’t possibly feel any less. Grief, rage, they course through me together and leave me weak.

  “I had to do that,” he murmurs. “I had to break you down. I had to show them that you are controllable, so they would leave you alone.”

  My tears are flowing so fast I can’t stop them. He pulls me onto his knee and he brushes the tears away, his arms wrapped around me in what feels like affection. It is too late. It is far too little.

  * * *

  Darko

  She is a prideful woman, and I have taken it from her. Her tears break something inside me. She has never cried, not once in this ordeal, not when she was taken, not when she was punished or caged. She cries now because I have removed every defense she had, in front of the worst people in the world.

  “I hate you,” she sobs, and I feel the truth of it. She hates me, and I can’t blame her. I hate myself for doing this to her. She deserves protection, real love. All she’s going to get from me is basic protection and necessary manipulation.

  The men in the next room represent seventy-six percent of the world’s combined wealth. It would be more, but one or two of the boys are overseeing a convenient civil war. When these men decide they want something, there is no resisting them. They can kill anyone anywhere on the planet at any time, and that is merely the beginning of their reach—our reach.

  We pick governments. We sway elections. We choose currencies, trade land, people, futures. We spark war, famine, even disease. Not a man here deserves the power he wields and not one of them will give it up before he dies.

  Most people would consider an heiress like Chloe to be powerful, but in our company, she is as vulnerable as it is possible to be. To these men, Chloe is as helpless as a street kid, and just as likely to be used and discarded.

  “Leave me alone,” she sniffs, pushing away from me. “Just let me be.”

  I give her space. There is nothing I can say to improve matters and I have to ensure that the Order is suitably impressed and ready to forget about Chloe.

  * * *

  “Satisfied, gentlemen?”

  A glass of whiskey is pushed into my hand. “Poor thing doesn’t stand a chance with you, does she?”

  She doesn’t. Now that I’ve broken her, it should be easier from here on out. I’ll make sure she’s well trained, have my fun, and find her a suitable mate. There are plenty of men who would be happy to marry someone like Chloe. She can have the family she no doubt desires. She can live a happy, if simpler life.

  The thought gives me an unpleasant pang, but I know I can’t keep her. Not having seen how she reacted to the world that I am a part of. I live a dark life. Rescuing her might be the one good thing I ever do. Setting her free might earn me some grace.

  With the point of the gathering made, my guests begin to make noises about leaving. I have no qualms about that. These men might be my allies, but they are not my friends. Each of them own islands, many of them much more palatial and tropical. This place is usually a private sanctuary. I chose its bleak shores for good reason. This is not a location for wild parties and women bought and paid for.

  The first choppers depart and within the hour I say the last goodbyes.

  With my guests departed, I check on Chloe. I expect to find her miserable, perhaps asleep, perhaps rebellious. I want to comfort her and reassure her that the worst is over. From here on out, her life can begin again.

  “Chloe?”

  It’s dark. She’s turned the light off. Maybe she’s sleeping. If so, I’ll carry her to bed. She deserves a good night’s sleep. She deserves a new life.

  “Chloe?”

  The room is empty.

  She’s gone.

  She’s been taken.

  Pure, cold rage settles in my belly. One of these men has crossed me. It will be the most foolish thing they ever do.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe

  It’s dark. I’m cramped up, crouched in a small stow space beneath seats. The sound of the rotors are deafening. I have to hold my hands over my ears to even partially block the din. The floor beneath me is vibrating, a little bit of metal between me and oblivion.

  It didn’t occur to Darko that I could escape. After all, there was nowhere to go on his island, right?

  Wrong.

  As soon as those monsters came in, they opened up a way out. A fleet of helicopters were parked on his roof. It was easy to slip into one of them and find a little place to hide. I don’t know where this craft is going, but I know when it gets to its destination, I am going to disappear. I’m going to regroup, and I’m going to get my revenge.

  First thing I do when I get back to my finances is hire the kind of security even Darko can’t penetrate. I am not going to let these men and their power intimidate me. At this point, I’d rather die than be turned into an o
bject of pity and amusement.

  The helicopter lands a few hours later. I’m desperate to pee, but I have to wait until the men sitting above me vacate the helicopter. Over the past days I have been degraded in so many ways. This might be the worst of it all. I’m doing this to myself, and I’m stuck below their corpulent butts. Only the prospect of freedom gives me any kind of hope. This is my lowest point, and I am not sure I will survive it.

  The thunder of the blades is one thing, and the shortness of air is another. Is this under-seat compartment air tight? It might be. I might suffocate in here, and if I do, I have to do it quietly. I can’t risk being caught and taken back to Darko. His punishment would be terrible, I’m sure of that.

  Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I hear the sound of the rotors change and my stomach lurches with descent. My heart begins to thunder. This is the moment of truth. Slipping into the helicopter was one thing, but getting out might not be so simple. I don’t know where we’re landing, what country we’re in. I don’t even know if I speak the language where we’ve gone.

  The helicopter shifts as the occupants get out. I wait a few minutes then crack the lid of the seat a little, just enough to peek out and breathe. There are lights in the distance. I get the impression we’re high up. We’ve landed on top of a building.

  A few minutes more, and I get the courage to creep out, verify that what I thought was right. I’m in Los Angeles. I’d recognize the skyline anywhere. Perfect. I have a place here, of course. Several, actually. And a few cars. Breathing in the air makes me feel strong. I am desperate. I am on the run. But I still have more resources at hand than most people have, and these men are going to discover that I am not such an easy target.

  Gathering my wits and nerves, I head off the roof and into the interior of the building. The staircase runs from the top all the way down to the bottom floor, uninterrupted by security. I find myself on a Los Angeles street.

  Thanks to Darko I’m dressed formally, which means I’m suitably dressed for the nearby nightclub. I’m drawn to it. There will be people there. People like me. People who need other people pressed around them to feel alive. Usually I hate clubs and parties, but right now I just want to lose myself in the real world beyond Darko’s grasp.

  Within moments of walking in the front door, someone has offered to buy me a drink. I accept gratefully and accompany my would-be suitor to the bar, where he makes small talk at me and I sip a cocktail, just happy to be free.

  I don’t catch his name. I barely even notice what he looks like. He’s droning on about a promotion he might be getting, trying to impress me with brand names and people I know far better than he ever could. I smile and nod, make little comments to keep him talking. He’s just a guy and I’m not interested in him, but it is nice to be in the company of someone who tries to impress me rather than just take me for his own.

  In my short time with Darko, I almost began to forget what normal relationships were like. He was everything. He was the world. And I was nothing but a little captive moon, stuck in his orbit. I never had a thought or made a move without reference to him. I wonder...

  “Oh, my god! Chloe! It’s me!”

  A high-pitched squeal distracts me from my thoughts. I turn and am engulfed in the drunken arms of a friend I’ve had since college. Alice has been out in LA for years now, we see each other during vacations sometimes. She babbles happily at me, dragging me away from the man and his drink, through the crowds of dancing, grinding people.

  “You didn’t tell me you were coming into town!” She pulls me down to sit with her at her booth. “What’s been going on?” Her face falls a second or two after asking the question as the alcohol fades enough to let her remember what my news is. My father’s death. “I’m so sorry, Chloe,” she gasps. “Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay.”

  It’s such a relief to feel safe, and to feel normal. I let her fuss over me, accept the drink she offers me, and some food. I’m starving. I’ve barely been able to eat since Darko took me. We stay at the bar for a bit and then she takes me back to her apartment. I feel safer there than I would at mine. I’m pretty sure that Darko and his cabal won’t show their hand when common people are around. A secretive Order doesn’t work if it has to reveal itself. And Alice is a big mouth. She owns the internet’s premier gossip site. If any evil underlings try to take me down, it will be all over the globe within minutes.

  “Can I crash at your place tonight? I lost my things on the plane. I’m such a klutz.”

  “Oh, my god, of course! It will be fun! We’ll have a sleepover! It will be just like back at the dorms!”

  * * *

  It’s nothing like being back at the dorms. Well, maybe it is. Alice is drunk to the point of illness by the time we get back. I gathered over the evening that she recently broke up with a boyfriend. I tell her I did too.

  “They don’t desherve ush,” she slurs as I help her into her apartment. “Ish fucked up.”

  She has no idea.

  I get her into bed, grab a shower, and change into some of her pajamas. Then I climb into her spare bed. She’s going to wake up with a hell of a hangover in the morning, probably not get out of bed until after midday.

  Lying in the dark, I feel a strange thrill deep in my belly. I know Darko will be looking for me. Maybe they all will be. But they’re not going to find me, and I am not going to be victim to their cabal either.

  There won’t be any way to find me in the short term. There were no fewer than five helicopters on the roof, and I think several boats at the dock. I could have gone on any one of them. I could be anywhere in the world. The busyness of Los Angeles is like a cloak, shielding me. I just have to stay under the radar.

  Chapter Seven

  Darko

  She’s gone.

  Utterly, completely gone.

  I call in men. I have the entire island searched from top to bottom, the house multiple times in case she has found some place to hide. Hours later, the search reveals nothing.

  I curse myself for not locking her in the room I left her in. I didn’t think about it. I was so arrogantly certain that this island was a fortress I didn’t consider the possibility that bringing people in would put her at risk of being taken out.

  She’s been stolen. I am almost certain of that. She showed no sign of interest in escape before last night, but there were hungry eyes on her and I know there was jealousy that I was the first to take her. Others among the Order had a similar plan, I am almost certain of that.

  I should have locked her away. I should have made sure she was secure, and I should never have trusted the band of snakes I allowed into my sanctum. This is the biggest mistake I have made in a very long time, but I will set this right. I will get her back and when I have her, I will never let her go again.

  My first call is to Roland Rich. He is the closest thing to a friend I have inside the Order. He is not a good man, but we have an understanding.

  “Surprised to hear from you, Darko. Would have thought you’d be busy with your girl.”

  “She’s fucking gone. Someone has taken her. One of the men tonight. Did you see anything suspicious?”

  “Can’t say I did. I don’t see how anyone could have taken your girl without being seen. You sure she’s not hiding somewhere? They can fit into small spaces when they want to.”

  He’s talking about Chloe as if she’s a mouse or a bug. Roland doesn’t see women the way I do. He barely recognizes them as being the same species. In many respects, he’s a monster. We all are. I’m just a different kind. Judging him won’t change anything, and it won’t get Chloe back any quicker.

  “If she has escaped, she has to be tracked down,” Roland muses out loud. “She’s too dangerous to have loose. She knows too much.”

  “She hasn’t escaped. There was no way for her to escape. She must have been taken.”

  “Have you searched the waters around your island? She may have tried to swim...”

  That tho
ught had not occurred to me before, but now I see the image clear in my mind, her lifeless form floating in the depths, being torn apart by sea creatures. I push it away.

  “She’s alive,” I say firmly, as if I believe it. I have to believe it. “And someone has her. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Be careful of making accusations,” Roland councils me. “As soon as the others find out, it won’t just be you looking for her. Everybody in the Order will want her. You put on quite a display with her.”

  He’s right. I am in a terrible position. If one of the Order has her, he won’t tell. And if the others find out and they don’t have her, if she has actually somehow escaped, then by putting the word out, I risk her falling into their hands anyway. For all I know, they weren’t all convinced. For all I know, there are some who would still be more comfortable if she joined her father.

  It’s been less than thirty minutes since I found she was missing. I have no way of finding her, and by morning she could be anywhere. China, Russia, the Middle East. She could be in Europe, or the Continental United States. I don’t have any idea where she has gone or who she is with. The feeling leaves me helpless.

  “Should have put a tracking device in her,” Roland says. “I do it to all of mine.”

  “I’m not like you.”

  “No,” Roland laughs down the line. “I keep my women. You’ve lost yours.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, asshole.”

  He’s still chuckling to himself as I hang up.

  Chapter Eight

  Chloe

  I don’t sleep so much as lie awake waiting for it to be light enough outside to go do what needs to be done.

  The major difficulty in being on the run from a group of supremely powerful billionaires is getting cash without them knowing. I’m sure my accounts are being watched, if not frozen. But I’m not dependent on their digital ones and zeros that might as well be tracking chips. My father was good at hiding money. It was one of his greatest joys, much to the chagrin of his accountants.