Taken by Lies

by Ella Miles

  Then I move to the curtains and close them tight. The room descends into blackness.

  I smile.

  Finally.

  I might be able to sleep.

  I go back to my corner of the room where it’s now dark enough to try to sleep even though it’s the middle of the day. And that’s what I do. I sleep.

  My body is shivering uncontrollably in the tiny room the men left me in. It’s so fucking cold. I’m used to the cold. My body always runs cold, and our trailer doesn’t have heat. Not that we need it much in Miami, but we can’t afford jackets or blankets either.

  I’m somewhere much colder than Miami.

  I was unconscious when they brought me into the room.

  The room heaves.

  What the hell?

  We keep rocking, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m on a boat. The water—my favorite thing in the world, and also my enemy.

  I hear men’s voices outside of my room, and I remember.

  I was kidnapped.

  I was sold.

  And now a man owns me.

  I don’t have to be told why a man would buy a woman. I know the purpose they have for me.

  The door opens, with a loud thud as it slams against the wall. A toothy man steps inside. He doesn’t look particularly strong. He doesn’t have defined muscles, but he’s a heavy-set man, that could throw his weight around and hurt me.

  “It’s time to break in the new whore.”

  No.

  My shivering changes to uncontrollable trembles. My body is not prepared to be raped. I can’t. I don’t want to become a shell of a woman who can’t function after this, if I ever get free.

  The man comes into the room, and I inch backward, looking for a weapon, for anything I can use to hurt him. I find nothing.

  He smirks, like he knows what I’m doing.

  I can’t hurt him, but I can run.

  That’s what I do as he moves forward. I’m faster than him, so I run around his body. I dart out of the room, not sure what my next step is. I just won’t let them take me easily. I won’t let them hurt or violate me.

  I make it to the hallway, and I see another man with arms crossed smiling at me. “I win the bet. I told you she would try to run.”

  “Fine, fine,” the man from the room says as he closes in from behind me.

  My heart races, and my body continues to shake violently like that is going to help. I’m more scared than I realized.

  No, don’t let them have my fear. I will fight, and they might still claim my body, but that’s it. I will keep everything else. I will not be a broken, scared girl when I leave here.

  I force my body to still, which only makes the toothy man smile brighter.

  “You’re a fighter. Good, it’s been a while since we had a fighter. It will be more fun when you finally break. I give you a month.”

  “Nah, I give her three. She’s more determined than you think,” the man behind me says.

  Each man walks closer, and I don’t know what to do. Which man is weaker? Which do I attack and hope I can break free of?

  I don’t get to make a decision. Both of them grab an arm at the same time.

  I fight—viciously. My legs start kicking, my arms flail, my nails dig into their skin, and I try to bite their skin with my teeth.

  I can do this all day.

  Until the fist makes contact with my jaw.

  Black dots surround my vision as a pain in my head overwhelms me. I’ve never felt anything like this before. And I know I can’t keep fighting. Not when the fight is so unfair.

  They can do whatever they want to me. I’m weak. I have no strength.

  They start pulling me to a different room—one filled with men. The shakes return, and my eyes widen. I thought only one man would take my virginity. I thought only one man would rip me apart, violate, and ruin me. But there are six men in the room.

  I don’t know what they plan, but I’m outnumbered. I turned seventeen yesterday. Still too young for anything like this to happen. But being too young won’t stop it.

  I don’t know what I expect. But I don’t expect this. I feel a kick in my side, then a slap to the face, followed by being thrown into a wall.

  When they said ‘break’ they literally meant break.

  And my body starts the slow process of turning into a shattered pile of bones.

  Another hit.

  Another kick.

  A yank of my wrist.

  I try not to cry out, to keep my voice and pain to myself, but I can’t.

  I scream.

  My eyes fly open. It’s a dream. It was just a dream.

  I pant heavily as cold sweat covers my body.

  My body burns as it did that night. I don’t know if that night was the roughest they were on me, but it was the hardest night for me. It was the beginning. The not knowing what to expect. The unfamiliarity of the agony with each hit, putting fresh wounds onto my body for the first time. That was what destroyed me.

  I scream at the pain. Even though I’m awake, I can still feel it, still hear their grunts, still see their smug smiles brighten at the enjoyment they got from hurting me.

  “Kai.” A loud pounding comes at the door.

  I still.

  “Kai, open the door.”

  Enzo.

  He’s back.

  And I don’t know how to feel.

  He came back. That should make me shrink in terror, but I like that he came back. It means I’m not alone anymore.

  I should go open the door and let him in, but I’m pissed. At him for keeping me captive. For leaving me alone. For letting me endure my nightmares when he could easily stop them by sleeping here with me.

  So I don’t open the door.

  Enzo doesn’t get to see my pain, my tears. He doesn’t get to see what leaving me did to me. Because as much as I want to be free, this is the only place I have a chance of healing.

  I pull my knees tight to my chest as I rock myself in the corner, trying to calm myself. I can’t. My icy veins are pulsing so hard I’m afraid my heart is going to give out from the speed.

  I close my eyes even though the room is already dark from the blackout curtains. The darkness often saves me, but it can’t save me from this.

  I hear the door handle rattle as Enzo tries to get inside.

  I don’t know why he wants into my room so badly. Is he pissed I had men install locks on the door? Did his business dealing go badly and now he wants to blow off steam on me?

  He can’t get inside. There are six locks on the door, none which have keyholes on the other side. They are all various chains and bolts keeping anyone and everyone out.

  I’m safe in here.

  My eyes focus in on the locks. I’m safe, but then why do I feel anything but secure?

  Sweat continues to ooze from my pores like my body is trying to expel the nightmares through my skin. My mind tries to shut off, but it can’t block out the men. And I can’t get rid of the shakes that ricochet through my body.

  The door handle stops rattling. I exhale. Enzo realized he couldn’t get in.

  I’m alone.

  And I don’t know how to feel.

  I’m alone to face the demons in the dark. Alone to heal myself. What if I can’t heal myself? What if I just stop eating and drinking until my body finally gives out?

  Dr. Miranda wouldn’t allow me to do that. Neither would Westcott or even Enzo. Enzo would hire someone to break through the locks and force feed me before he let me wither away into nothing. I still have my suspicions that the only reason I’m here is so he can heal me and then get more money when he sells me.

  But for now, I get one more day alone.

  I hear a loud crack.

  I jump.

  The door.

  Another pound against the door, followed by another crack.

  Shit.

  I grip my knees tighter as my teeth begin to chatter.

  Pound.

  Pound.

 
Pound.

  Then crack.

  The door splits along the edge. Enzo pushes the door open wide enough for him to step through.

  He’s dressed in a black suit; his tie has loosened around his neck like he just came home from a normal day at the office. But that’s where the normalcy stops. His dark hair is ruffled and longer than the last time I saw him; he could use a haircut. The shadow of hair on his sharp jawline has thickened. Sweat trickles down his forehead.

  Blood.

  Tiny droplets of blood rest on the collar of his shirt, tie, and cufflinks.

  What have you been doing Enzo? And do you plan on doing the same thing to me?

  I had so many questions of why he wanted to break down the door before. Most ended in something horrible happening when he made it through the door. But now seeing his face, those worries vanish.

  Enzo is shattered.

  His eyes are dark with fear, his brow wrinkled with worry, and his lips tight with anxiety.

  He’s concerned about me—about what he would find when he opened the door.

  My lips open to comfort him, to tell him no one was torturing me, it was just a nightmare, but I can’t, because I’m not fine.

  His eyes travel over every inch of my body, inspecting, trying to figure out where I’m hurt and where I’ve healed.

  We both continue to stare at each other, like whoever stops first loses.

  Neither of us knows what to say.

  I don’t offer up any information about what I’m going through, and he doesn’t tell me whose blood stains his clothes.

  But despite the connection of our gazes, I long for more. To understand this man, who for one second shows he cares only to show later how monstrous he can be.

  His body wants me. I can see his cock lengthen and harden in his pants at the sight of me this way. Sweaty, scared, and broken.

  That’s how he likes his women.

  Yet, he denies himself the one thing he seems to want—me.

  Finally, he swallows, and our connection is lost. He glances around the room at the curtains and then to the locks that were preventing his entry.

  “I see you did some redecorating while I was gone.”

  I snarl.

  He ignores my response and cocks his head to the side.

  “You are supposed to be dressed.”

  “No, I’m supposed to be dressed when I leave this room,” I snap back.

  He smiles a little at my firey response.

  “There was no need to barricade yourself in this room.”

  “Why not? I was told not to leave this room until I had fully healed. Might as well ensure no one gets in. Although, I see my plan backfired.”

  He winces at my words, and I explode.

  “You’re a fucking asshole! You’ve kept me locked in this fucking room, this house, for weeks!” I stand feeling my anger from him leaving me, and the nightmare overtakes any other thoughts.

  He doesn’t blink as I yell. He just lets me berate him.

  “You don’t tell me fucking anything! You just give me mixed signal after mixed signal. You were supposed to kill me but didn’t. You should have sold me or raped me by now, but you haven’t. You want me to heal, yet you spend your time yelling or ignoring me. You’re a fucking coward! Nothing has changed since you were a boy.”

  “Are. You. Done?” I feel his temper rising with each word, but he doesn’t let it free. This man is practiced in self-control.

  “No, I’m not fucking done!”

  I realize I’ve taken several steps toward him as my anger took control of me. I’m dangerously close. Close enough he could touch me. Last time he did, I passed out for days. I won’t let that happen again. I know how much his touch burns.

  But I won’t retreat either.

  The shiny piece of metal captures my attention. He has a gun.

  None of my previous captors had a gun. At least they never wore their guns around me, as if they sensed I would steal it if the opportunity presented itself.

  Here’s my chance.

  I’m risking everything by doing this.

  I’m out of practice with pickpocketing.

  My movements are slower than usual.

  He could touch me in the process.

  Or realize what I’m reaching for and shoot me before I have the chance to shoot him, if he no longer thinks I’m worth keeping alive.

  But I have to try.

  “You’re a cruel, evil monster. Don’t think I didn’t notice the blood of your victim on your clothes.”

  “Who said the man I killed was a victim?”

  I inch closer, keeping my gaze on his instead of the gun. “Because no one deserves to die by your hand. You aren’t God.”

  He smirks. “To most women, I am. Any woman who’s had the pleasure of spending a night in my bed has called me God over and over.”

  I hesitate. I have no doubt Enzo is good in bed with a willing partner. My mouth waters at the thought of how he might be in bed. Powerful, strong, and merciless. He would ensure his partner came, while also taking everything he wanted from her. Fucking her harder than she’s ever been fucked, spreading her wider, pushing her beyond her limits. There would be spanking, a rough taking, and rope to tie her up like they were in some Fifty Shades of Grey novel.

  A willing partner is the key. I wouldn’t be willing? Would I?

  I snatch the gun before I answer my silent question. I take a step back at the same time as I aim the gun at Enzo.

  He doesn’t move. He doesn’t offer his surrender or try to take the gun from me, even though I’m sure he could easily.

  “Do it, pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery,” he says.

  His misery?

  He doesn’t know what misery feels like. He can’t with a body like his, a mind that has been through schooling, and a company, albeit an illegal organization, he runs that makes him millions.

  “Don’t tempt me. I should. You are not my master.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not your master. No one could control such a creature like you. You are like the sea; you can never truly be owned by any man.” His words seem to sadden him, like he’s just now coming to this realization.

  I can’t kill him.

  Just as he couldn’t kill me.

  But I can kill myself.

  I change the direction of the gun. I point it toward my heart.

  One squeeze and I’ll be gone. Even if I miss my heart, my body couldn’t take the blood loss.

  I see Enzo’s body tighten. He doesn’t tell me to stop, but every muscle in his body is pulling, forcing him to stay when he wants to snatch the gun from my hands.

  I sigh.

  I can’t fucking kill myself. Not after everything I’ve survived.

  I drop the gun.

  He doesn’t go to pick it up. Instead, he walks to the bathroom. When he returns, he has a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

  He holds them both out to me.

  I take them carefully before taking a seat back in my corner of the room. I use the washcloth to wipe the sweat from my body, and then I drink the water.

  He watches me carefully until I’m lying on the floor again, and then he exhales sharply.

  “Can you at least put a shirt on around me?”

  “Huh?”

  “Just…fuck. I know for whatever ridiculous reason, you feel more comfortable naked than wearing clothes, but I just can’t—I can’t.”

  “You can’t look at how disgusting I am?” I spout my anger.

  He rubs his neck. “I can’t look at how attracted I am to your brokenness.”

  My eyes widen at his admission. I knew he was attracted to my pain, but now I’ve confirmed it.

  “I’m twisted, Kai. I’m not your savior, and I’m not your monster. I may have been the boy who saved you only to turn into the savage who destroyed your life. But now, all I want is for you to disappear again like before.”

  Shit.

  “I’m not going to sell you. T
hough sometimes we don’t get what we wish for.”

  His eyes bury into mine, and I can feel everything. His lust at wanting me, his fight at holding back. And his desire to go hunt and kill the man who hurt me. Enzo Black may be a monster, but he may be the kind that protects me instead of hurts me—at least this new version of him. I can see the regret in his eyes at selling me, but I can’t forgive him. I can never forgive him.

  Never.

  He seems to regret that too.

  But I can’t make his life easier. I won’t wear a shirt, because it will make sleep harder, even if I’m tempting his self-control. Even if I’m risking him fucking me by exposing my body to him.

  I lay down in the corner, naked.

  He sighs.

  “What am I going to do with you, Kai?” he says to himself.

  I’m broken, you don’t have a choice of what to do with me. Just let me go. Stop hurting me.

  I expect him to leave—find a different room to sleep in.

  Instead, he starts removing his clothes.

  Shoes, then tie.

  Then the slow unbuttoning of his shirt, until his rippled body appears. And then his pants slide down his thick legs.

  I expect him to stop.

  He doesn’t.

  He removes his boxer briefs.

  My eyes burst, and my heart pumps wildly at the sight of his thick, long cock. It’s only partially erect, but it’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.

  “What are you doing?” my body freezes. He’s told me many times he won’t fuck me. Or even touch me. He’s disgusted and turned on at the same time. But then why is he naked in my room?

  “I’m going to sleep. I prefer to sleep naked too. If you get to sleep naked, then so do I.”

  I frown.

  “This isn’t your room.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Are you going to be able to sleep without me here?”

  I flame. “What?! You are one cocky ass if you think I can only sleep with you here.”

  He raises an eyebrow at my explosion. “The last time I stayed with you, you slept for three days straight. How much sleep have you gotten since I was gone?”

  I don’t answer him.