by Sweet, Izzy
Trapping Sophia
Disciples 6
Izzy Sweet
Sean Moriarty
Copyright © 2021 by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty
About This Book
I’m a psycho. A stalker. A sick and obsessed monster...
I’m what happens when you keep a man away from the woman he wants.
They said I couldn’t have her...
That grabbing and keeping the Police Chief’s daughter would bring too much down on our heads.
I listened. I obeyed. And I’ve been slowly going mad with the need to make her mine ever since.
For seven months, I’ve watched her from afar and followed her every move.
Protecting her. Killing for her.
And she doesn’t even know I exist.
She doesn’t know how I burn and ache after our one kiss.
Now her father’s dead.
She’s weak and in pain, reeling from the loss.
All alone in the world now.
Unprotected.
If I was a good man, I’d give her time and space to deal with her grief.
I’d give her room to heal.
But I’m not a good man.
I’m a bad man.
And she has no idea what’s coming for her...
Contents
Prologue
1. James
2. James
3. Sophia
4. James
5. James
6. Sophia
7. James
8. Sophia
9. James
10. Sophia
11. Sophia
12. James
13. James
14. Sophia
15. Sophia
16. James
17. Sophia
18. James
19. Sophia
20. Sophia
21. James
22. Sophia
Epilogue
Playlists
Stalk Us
About Us
Also by Izzy and Sean
Preview: Broken Wings
Dedicated to Sara
Prologue
Sophia
7 Months Ago
Somewhere in Garden City
“Up against the wall!” a man dressed in all black fatigues barks loudly while motioning impatiently with the automatic rifle gripped in his hands.
My friend Amanda clings to my side as we’re quickly herded into an empty warehouse room. Herded just like animals being led to slaughter with a group of other shivering, naked women.
No, not animals. Pets. Isn’t that what that Russian man called us after he killed Lindsey?
His pets.
But we’re not even that in the eyes of these men.
Since the night my friends and I were brazenly grabbed out of a parking lot and shoved into the back of a van, I’ve learned we are simply flesh.
Warm flesh that is easily forced to move, bend, and break.
And just as easily discarded.
“Move it! Keep it moving!” another man yells from behind us, and without warning I’m pushed forward.
My toes bump into the heels of the red-haired woman in front of me and we both nearly go down in a heap of naked limbs.
Only Amanda’s death grip on me keeps me from dropping to the concrete floor.
Catching my balance, I quickly grab the elbow of the woman in front of me to help steady her, and then suddenly Amanda bumps into me with a yelp as we’re both pushed forward again.
“Backs against the wall! Get ‘em up against the wall!” the guy with the rifle yells, his words cracking like thunder over the small, fearful whimpers echoing around me.
Then he shoves the woman closest to him to show he means business.
The other women in front of me scramble to obey the order as the armed man works his way down the line, pushing and shoving. But I can’t move with the way Amanda’s fingers are digging into the flesh above my hips.
“Amanda,” I whisper urgently and reach down, trying to loosen her grip, but it’s hopeless.
Looking back into her eyes, it’s clear she’s gone. The lights are on, but she’s so terrified and traumatized, no one’s home.
She completely checked out earlier when the men grabbed us from the concrete cell they’ve been keeping us in to bring us here.
And, god help me, I don’t know if she’s ever coming back.
She’s been crying ever since we were first taken. Crying so much, at times it’s been annoying.
But this is different.
This is…
I don’t even know what this is.
We’ve only been separated once during this whole ordeal. Once, and she came back…
Broken.
Something must have happened to her when she was separated from Beth and me. Something so awful, she couldn’t bear to do it again.
Something so terrible, it took two men to carry her out this time, kicking and screaming.
I thought for sure they were going to kill her, just like they killed Lindsey when she put up a fight and resisted.
Until one of the men grabbed Amanda’s hand, pressed it against his groin, and whispered in her ear.
Then she went limp.
She’s been completely out of it since then, and I don’t know how to fix her.
The only thing I know with any certainty is that if we don’t do what these evil men say, they will kill us.
“What the fuck is going on here?” the armed man asks as he reaches Amanda and me.
His lip curls with disgust as his hard eyes roam down my body and lock on Amanda’s white-knuckled grip.
“I said backs against the wall, you stupid bitches! Not to grab each other’s asses!”
Still holding his rifle with both hands, he uses it to shove me backward, sending both Amanda and me into the wall.
My right shoulder bangs and scrapes against the rough brick as I stumble back, and Amanda’s fingers clench so hard her nails pierce my skin.
The pain barely registers though over my panic.
If she doesn’t let go, this could be the fucking end for the both of us.
Reaching down, I frantically try to pry her fingers off me again, but nothing I do seems to move her. Nothing until the armed man takes a step in her direction and reaches out like he’s going to grab her.
Throwing her hands up, Amanda quickly jumps away from me.
With tears streaming down her face, she begs, “No, no, no… please…”
Holding my breath, I watch the man with the rifle pause, and pray that he decides to move on and leave her alone now that we’re separated.
But God must be ignoring my prayers again.
A gleam of wicked realization fills the man’s eyes.
My heart sinks to my stomach as the man takes another step toward Amanda, his mouth curving with amusement.
Amanda tries to make herself as small as possible, nearly bending in half as she wraps her arms around herself.
For a split-second, I’m paralyzed as I relive the exact moment I watched another man lift a gun and kill my friend
Lindsey before I had a chance to stop it.
I remember all the thoughts that have been looping through my brain ever since it happened.
The thoughts of what I would do different if I could go back in time to save her.
Forgetting the very pleas I whispered in Amanda’s ear earlier, pleas to do as they say and not to give them a reason to hurt us, I stick my arm out and step in front of her.
Though I intended for them to come out bold and strong, the words, “Leave her alone,” crackle weakly past my lips.
The man’s head swings in my direction and that wicked gleam dims with anger and indignation.
“Who the fuck do you think you are telling me what to do?” the man snarls before he brutally thrusts his rifle back into my chest.
He thrusts and pushes the gun into me until he has me up against the wall, choking for air and my spine trying to push through the brick.
“Huh? Huh?! Who the fuck do you think you are, you stupid bitch?” he snaps, his eyes boring into my eyes as I reach up, clawing at the thing choking the life out of me.
Maybe if I had the breath, I’d tell him exactly who I am.
I’d tell him I’m the one and only beloved daughter of Garden City’s Police Chief.
Maybe I’d even tell him he’s not going to get away with this. That he’ll pay for what he’s doing to us.
That’s just how the world works. You can’t mess with people like me and my friends and not expect to suffer the consequences in the end.
But I don’t have the breath, and he’s showing no signs of stopping.
The cold metal of the rifle continues to dig and dig into my throat, and my head starts to feel light and fuzzy.
“You’re nothing,” he snarls at me as my lungs burn and ache for a taste of oxygen.
Even with all that’s happened, up until this point, I haven’t truly felt or believed those words.
Nothing? How am I nothing?
I’m someone. I’m somebody!
Not only do I matter, I’m important.
There are people who care about me. Powerful people. People that are probably looking for me at this very second…
I watch his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath then exhales, “You’re no one.”
And god help me, I never thought I’d be jealous of another person breathing.
But fuck, I just want to take a breath.
And where are the people that are looking for me?
Where are they when I need them?
Where’s my father?
Don’t I matter? Shouldn’t I be a fucking priority?
You’d think!
But maybe he’s right... Maybe I truly am no one and they’re not even looking…
Maybe I’m going to die right here.
Just like Lindsey.
“Hey, man. Hey! Cut that shit out! You leave any marks on her and it’s your ass!” someone yells.
The rifle crushes against my windpipe as the man pushes even harder
“You’re just a stupid bitch,” he growls. “A stupid cheap piece of ass being offered to the highest bidder.”
With a look of contempt and a sound of disgust, he yanks the rifle away.
Falling to my knees, I grab at my aching throat as I gasp in great big mouthfuls of air.
Looking down at me like I’m shit he just stepped in, the man makes a loud, throaty noise and then something wet splatters against my thighs.
“You’re not even worth my fucking time or breath.”
Tears fill my eyes as I watch him turn his back to me, obviously not the least bit worried I’ll try to fight back again.
I won’t.
I won’t try to fight back again.
Because he’s right.
Here, in their world, I am nothing.
I’m just a stupid bitch who thought for a split second that she could change things or make a difference.
I have no power to stop this or him.
I’m completely, utterly, pathetically…
Weak and helpless.
But I still want to live.
With the sting of my own death still burning in my nose and tingling on my lips, I shakily force myself to get to my feet. Afraid that if I stay like I am for too long the man will turn his attention back to me and finish what he started.
As I rise, the red-haired woman to my right purposely avoids meeting my eyes and shies away from me like she’s afraid to be too close to me.
It shouldn’t hurt. I don’t know her, and I shouldn’t care what she thinks of me.
But it does.
What hurts even more though is when I look to Amanda and see her doing the same thing.
Shying away from me like she doesn’t want to be associated with me.
Fighting back more tears, I wrap my arms around myself and shuffle back until I’m against the wall.
Surrounded on both sides by women just like me, naked, afraid, and just wanting to survive, I’ve never felt more alone.
Beth is gone. I don’t know where they’ve taken her.
I was so focused on Amanda when the men came to our cell, I didn’t realize until it was too late that they were separating us from Beth.
They split the three of us into the back of two semi-trucks, and I haven’t seen her since.
Amanda might as well be gone.
Eventually the man with the rifle turns back to me to give me a contemptuous smirk. Then he walks down the line to mess with some other poor girl who isn’t against the wall to his liking.
When she starts sobbing from his verbal abuse, I don’t try to speak up for her. I don’t try to rescue her like I did for Amanda.
I just wrap my arms tighter around myself, tuck my chin down, and pray for this nightmare to end.
The man with the rifle spews the same hateful words at the other girl he spewed at me. Reminding her that she’s nothing. That we’re all nothing.
Until a new voice cuts in.
“Yo!” a man calls out from across the room and I peek up to see him standing in front of an open door that was closed a moment ago. “Bag and gag number seven, she’s rollin’ out!”
The other two men in the room who have blended into the background up until now give each other confused looks.
One even chuckles.
“Are you sure you’ve got the right number?” the chuckling man asks. “Usually it’s the virgins that roll out first…”
“I’m sure,” the man standing in the doorway confirms impatiently, and I notice he’s not dressed in fatigues like the other men who are so alike they’re nearly identical. No, his dark hair is longer than a buzzcut, slicked back, and he’s dressed in an expensive looking black suit.
“Special order,” the man in the suit emphasizes. “Now get her fucking bagged and gagged so we can get her the hell out of here.”
He slams the door shut behind him and the other men stand quietly for a moment.
“Special order, huh?” the man who chuckled repeats with a shake of his head then he and his identical buddy start to walk in my direction.
“I bet it’s Mr. Zaroff,” the man with the rifle snickers as he walks back up the line to join the other two.
“Mr. Zaroff?” the third man scoffs as the three of them stop in front of me. “Fuckin’ doubt it. He likes ‘em spunky and this one’s already broken.”
“Yeah, gag her quick,” Chuckles says. “I still have a headache from all the bitching and moaning she did earlier.”
The man with the rifle shifts his grip and lifts it, pointing it directly at me. His cold eyes lock on mine and the quirk of his lips dares me to try something.
To give him a reason to end my existence.
The third man dressed in fatigues reaches back and pulls a long strip of fabric from his pocket at the same time the man who chuckled pulls what appears to be a black hood from his utility belt.
I suck in a small breath and hold it, waiting for them to pounce on me.
I won’t fight. I can’t figh
t, I remind myself while all the muscles in my body tense and every little instinct screams for me to get away, to do something to save myself.
The man with the hood and the man with the gag share a look. Then the man with the hood suddenly moves forward and grabs Amanda.
“No!” Amanda wails, fighting against the man as he yanks her out of the line and restrains her arms behind her back while the man with the strip of fabric moves in.
As soon as the man with the fabric reaches out and touches her, Amanda goes limp. It’s almost like she fainted, but her eyes are still open.
Working quickly, the man with the fabric stuffs it in Amanda’s mouth and ties it around the back of her head.
Then the man with the hood pushes her forward and drops the black hood over her head.
My stomach rolls and I want to puke all over the floor as I watch them each grab an arm and drag her to the door.
I should do something…
But what do I do?
Oh god, what do I do?
“That was easier than expected,” the man who chuckled earlier says before he bangs loudly on the door. “Number seven is ready to roll!”
The door opens almost instantly, as if the man in the suit was standing on the other side, waiting.
“Good,” the man in the suit says. He eyes Amanda for a moment then nods. “Bag and gag number six as well.”
The man in the suit moves to the side and two new goons step around him to take Amanda. As soon as she’s handed off, the door slams shut.
