The Bastard Prince (Crellids Book 1)

by Chloe Walsh

  "Jefe send book," Patrice explained in that deep, Latino drawl of his. "Food, water, and blanket."

  "How generous," I hissed, hands balling into fists at my side as I sat in my bra and panties on the rubber mattress. "You can tell your jefe that I'm going to kick his ass."

  A ghost of a smile teased his lips and my fury soared.

  "When am I getting out of here?"

  Dutifully ignoring me, Patrice set the trolley at the end of my bed and stepped back.

  "That's real nice," I called after him, furious. "I'm not worthy of a response because I have a pussy?"

  "You make trouble," he shot back, keeping his tone low. "All the trouble. You no listen. Now look." Shaking his head, he waved a hand at me and spat, "You dead whore. Fabio want dead Ashton."

  My blood turned to ice in my veins as I contemplated his words.

  "He wants me dead?" I swallowed deeply, pulse fluttering anxiously in my throat. "Really?"

  "Sí," he confirmed grimly. "Jefe say no dead Ashton. Fabio say aye, aye, aye. So, Fabio compromiso and say sell Ashton. Jefe say de ninguna manera. Jefe say not fucking happen, papá. So now, they fight." Patrice frowned. "Days and days and they still fight. Again, and again."

  "They're fighting?"

  Another disapproving nod.

  "Fuck," I breathed, clasping my hands together, shoulders sagging in defeat.

  "You pain in ass of jefe," he told me, moving for the door. "Mucho."

  "So, I'm just supposed to stay here?" I demanded, beyond frustrated. "For how long?"

  "Jefe say read book," he replied, pointing to the trolley. "And grow the patience."

  Brows furrowing, I crawled to the edge of my bed and reached for the book setting on top of the trolley.

  The moment my eyes landed on the cover of the familiar storybook, I balked.

  It was a copy of The Three Little Pigs.

  The book I had used to teach him how to read all of those years ago.

  Grow the patience was written inside.

  "That bastard." I shook my head and tossed the book on my bed, forcing my mind to block out my memories. "He's playing games with me."

  He had to be. Why else would he give me that damn book? That day symbolized a significant moment in our lives. After we took out his weapons, we had…and then we… no!

  I refused to think back on one of the rare, perfect days in my past. I refused to buy into whatever mind game Trigger was playing.

  He wanted me to remember how I felt that night.

  He was sending me a message with this book.

  I was not buying it.

  I refused to soften my temper towards a man who had abandoned me in a goddamn whorehouse. Screw whatever demands Fabio was making. The Trigger I remembered would never leave me down here.

  No matter what.

  "Patrice, wait!" I called out, scrambling off the bed and hurrying after him when he moved for the door. "Don’t go." Racing to close the space between us, I latched onto his huge forearm with both hands. "Please don't leave me down here." Shivering, I added, "I'm not like the women down here."

  "You no choice," he replied tightly. "Jefe no choice. Patrice no choice."

  "Please?" I begged, panicking at the thought of those men coming back tonight. "They're going to end up raping me." A cold shiver ran down my spine at the thought. "You need to get me out." Because I'm not letting you leave here without me.

  "You is whore," he shot back, yanking his arm free and swinging the door of my cage open. "Whore get fucked," he added with a shrug. "Whore job to get, as they say, dicked for money. No hay problema."

  My mouth fell open. "You're a dick!" Narrowing my eyes, I growled, "I'll dick you, dickhead, and then I'll make you pay me! How's that sound?"

  "I make joke." Patrice smirked. "And you, as they say, is batshit crazy."

  "Well, you need to work on your comedy material because it blows," I huffed, attention flicking to the familiar looking redhead ambling down the corridor.

  I knew that girl.

  She resided in the room next to mine and I had showered beside her in the communal showers every morning for the past week.

  Thinking on my feet, I blurted, "Hey, Tanya, can you come here for a sec?"

  She paused in her tracks and turned to look at me, curious.

  "Come here," I whispered, gesturing with my hand.

  Nervous, she glanced around, clearly checking the empty corridor for guards, before hurrying into my room.

  "Yes?" she asked, voice meek and obedient, gaze locked on the scar on Patrice's face.

  "The fuck is Ashton doing?" he demanded, looking oddly flustered.

  I grinned on the inside.

  Oh, I knew why he was flustered.

  This girl was all kinds of tempting.

  "This is my friend," I told her, giving her a meaningful look. "Patrice."

  Help me, and I'll help you, I mentally begged her, imploring her with my eyes to hear my unspoken pleas. You know who I am. I'm not your average whore.

  I'm the heiress whore.

  Smiling brightly, Tanya reached around Patrice's big body and closed the door.

  I mentally sagged in relief.

  Girl was smart.

  "Hello, Patrice," she purred, stepping up to him.

  Frowning, Patrice flicked his wary gaze to me before turning back to her. "Hello."

  "You're a big boy, aren't you?" she teased, reaching for the buckle of his belt.

  With deft, experienced fingers, she quickly snapped his belt open and hooked her fingers into the loops of his suit pants.

  "Do you want to play with me?" she asked, tone breathy, as she began to walk backwards, taking him with her.

  Clearly taken aback, Patrice let her lead him to the bed.

  I rolled my eyes at the sight of the huge man being manipulated by the tiny, barely five feet whore – pretty whore, I acknowledged, smart, too.

  Fucking men.

  Always led by their dicks.

  Stripping him down like undressing a man was an everyday thing for her – which, it clearly was – Tanya pushed my hulking bodyguard onto the mattress and straddled his hips.

  "Hi," she breathed, smiling down at him. Giggling softly, she took his big hand in hers and placed it inside her panties. "Hmm."

  "Oh shit," he groaned, hips bucking upwards. "The whore friend is batshit, too."

  From a young age, I had learned to take my chances when they arose, so, like Patrice's rising cock, I spotted the opportunity to escape.

  I waited until Tanya had her lips on Patrice's mouth, with his attention riveted to her body, before making my move.

  Shrugging on the jacket that Patrice had recklessly cast aside, I slid his wallet into the pocket, along with his keys.

  Then, with his gun in my hands, I ran from the room.

  Come at me now, bastards.

  I fucking dare you.

  13

  As I scurried through the maze of corridors in the underground of the compound, I allowed my mind to flirt with thoughts and images of all the ways in which I could be punished if this went badly.

  When, Ashton, not if.

  This won't end well.

  Not even the promise of more beatings and ice showers could veer me off my path of self-destruction. I was too fucking lost in my own head to think rationally. I knew I was losing grasp of my logic, and, if I was being truthful, my sanity.

  I supposed it had been slowly slipping for years now, but the impact of having Trigger thrust back into my world after a two-year absence, along with the brutal way he had taken me, and then fucked me until I screamed out for more, had tossed me into a dangerous downward spiral.

  I wasn't sure if I was scorned or wronged, raped or ridden, in love or in loathe. I couldn’t be sure of my thoughts anymore and the more time that passed without seeing him, the more frantic my thoughts grew.

  I was fifty percent sure that I was going to use this gun on him when I found him. The other fifty percent was resol
ute to the idea that I would drop to my knees and suck his cock like the good whore I was the minute I laid eyes on him.

  Six days writhing in purgatory, Ashton.

  Six nights burning in hell.

  No. I shook my head, lip curling up in disgust.

  There would be no sucking cock of any kind.

  Forcing all thoughts of Trigger to the back of my mind, my legs broke into a clumsy run when I reached the staircase and found it unguarded.

  A part of me realized that this was too easy.

  It shouldn't be this easy.

  Still, I kept moving, scrambling up the steep concrete steps, my fear and anger propelling me into taking action.

  My chest heaved when I reached the ground level, head spinning, eyes seeing stars. I was weak and hungry from my vacation in the whorehouse, but once again, I pushed those feelings aside, needing something more than nourishment and a clean bed.

  I needed fucking answers.

  And maybe some bloodshed.

  In nothing but my bra, panties, and Patrice's jacket, I moved like a fucking lioness, prowling the corridors for my meal, my taste buds craving something foreign.

  Something Spanish.

  He's going to kill you, Ashton.

  You're going to die in this hellhole.

  Don’t look for him.

  You're a little girl in a pond of sharks.

  Forget your vengeance and run.

  That was the sliver of logic left inside of my brain.

  I couldn't heed the warning, though.

  I was too fucked up.

  Emotionally.

  Physically.

  I had zero control over my thoughts and actions anymore.

  Something inside of me, I presumed my heart, demanded I fight back. It was the same thing that had driven me to plunge that knife into Trigger's shoulder that night.

  Something inside of me had snapped, and I hoped that if I pushed hard enough, dug deep enough, I could make Trigger snap too. Unearth the man he had been before.

  The man I knew would never have allowed such monstrosities to happen to me, and I prayed I could bring him back to life.

  Because I didn’t deserve to be treated this way. None of those women in the whorehouse deserved it, either. Being born with a vagina shouldn’t automatically denounce our human rights. It was barbaric and I was done.

  I had my father's blood running through my veins. I was the last remaining Northwood and that meant that half of everything Fabio Crellid owned was deservedly mine.

  Strengthening my resolve and steadying my hand, I glided through the hallways, moving to the first floor and heading straight for where I knew I would find the noticeably absent men.

  In the lair.

  The sounds of women screaming and moaning filled my ears the minute my feet hit the first-floor landing, assuring me that I was dead on the money regarding their whereabouts.

  After nine long years of living at the compound, I was acutely aware of the different types of screams that came from women when they were put in that room.

  The cries and wails coming from the lair right now screamed new shipment.

  Girls that weren't taken from the streets and willing to work, but taken against their will. It sickened me and I had to repress the urge to vomit.

  For years, Fabio had forced me inside of that stupid office while he worked. A part of me thought he had me work there to keep my mind occupied and out of trouble while he waited for me to come of age for his son – as promised. But the other part of me knew that it was because he wanted me to listen.

  He wanted me to be afraid.

  And it had worked.

  From a very young age, I had submitted to him without having a single finger placed on my skin out of fear of being taken into that room.

  Out of fear of having exactly what Trigger did to me forced upon my unwilling body.

  God, Trig…

  Pain.

  Betrayal.

  Loss.

  Grief.

  Block it out!

  Shaking my head, I cleared my mind, cocked the hammer, and stepped closer to the cracked door, gun aimed high and ready.

  "Break her in half." Fabio's cruel voice filled my ears and I had to fight the urge to scramble away like a terrified mouse. "I want to see blood. Let's see how far she'll go."

  Trembling, I peeked through the gap in the doorway and almost threw up.

  Six women, six beautiful young girls of no more than nineteen or twenty, knelt on the plush red carpet with their hands bound behind their backs and their necks collared with thick, leather straps.

  The elites, I quickly realized, registering the collars marking these girls as a step up on the sex ladder than the basic whores underground.

  These girls would fetch a much higher price than the others, and my heart cracked open at the sight of their lifeless, void expressions as each girl had the cock of one of Fabio's associates rammed down her throat.

  My stomach wrenched even further when my eyes landed on the poor girl whose screams I had heard in the hallway.

  She was suspended from the ceiling, her frail wrists bound by leather cuffs. Her blonde hair was loose and partially concealed the agonized expression on her face as both Yegor and Anton filled both holes, with Yegor taking her from behind and Anton taking her pussy. They had the poor girl sandwiched between their powerful frames, their movements frantic and explosive as they violently penetrated her body. Around her neck was a thick leather collar with a matching leather leash attached. Holding the leash was Fabio.

  Bile rose up and I quickly backed away from the door, seeing my future flash before my eyes.

  That girl was me.

  That was my fate.

  If I rushed into that room, I would be the girl suspended from the ceiling, while those men took turns with my body.

  Suddenly, the fight went out of me.

  This was it.

  This was all it would ever be.

  There was no escaping the world I'd been born into.

  I couldn’t survive outside of the compound if I wanted to.

  I'd never been acclimatized to the outside world.

  With the exception of once or twice a year for a few measly hours, my whole life had been lived out behind the walls of this monster's castle.

  Cowering like a wounded animal on the opposite side of the landing, I debated my options.

  Be brave and get riddled with lead for the tiny chance that I managed to shoot Fabio first, or be braver and turn the gun on myself.

  Because I couldn’t get out of here on my own.

  I couldn’t depend on Trigger to help me, either.

  He'd left me in the fucking whorehouse.

  He'd abandoned me for two goddamn years with these men.

  And what happened when he grew tired of me?

  I was hardly grateful to him. I wasn't obedient or submissive.

  What would happen when he didn’t want me anymore?

  Would he give me back to Fabio?

  Would he share me with the men?

  Would he follow through on his promises that night outside the church and kill me…

  "Run, little lamb, and run quickly." Clutching my throat tighter, he cut off my air supply. "Find a very good place to hide from your wolf and stay hidden." Chest heaving, he pressed the barrel of the gun between my eyes, and whispered, "Don’t look back. Don’t even dare to breathe too loudly. Because the next time we meet, when I find you again, I will kill you…"

  Breathing hard and fast, I struggled to gain control of my emotions and stem the panic attack I could feel cresting up inside of me.

  It didn’t work.

  I couldn’t calm myself down.

  I couldn’t fucking breathe.

  Gasping for air, I dropped the gun and reached for my throat, clutching it almost frantically as if I could somehow force my airways to open up.

  "Ash? What the hell are you doing?"

  Jethro's familiar voice filled my ears and I
swung around to find him staring at me in horror.

  Beside him stood a sneering Solo.

  "Ash," Jet repeated, eyes laced with panic as he took a step closer. "Are you insane? What the hell are you trying to do to yourself?"

  "I, uh, I…" My heart kick-started in my chest and I jerked into action, bolting blindly away from the men, my only destination being to get as far away from these men as humanly possible.

  Too late, I realized when I felt a fist knot in my hair.

  "Not so fast," Solo chuckled, roughly dragging me back to him. "I thought you were keeping company with the whores downstairs." Laughing cruelly, he slapped me hard across the face and then forced me to my knees. "Up to your tricks again, heiress whore? Hmm? Well, your daddy's name ain't worth shit now. You're a marked bitch."

  Weak as a noodle from the lack of proper nourishment, I felt my body fold beneath the pressure. My knees hit the hardwood flooring with a thud.

  "Let her go," Jet snapped, sounding agitated, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Solo, come on, man, she's a claimed –"

  "Shut the fuck up, you little bitch boy," Solo snarled, using his free hand to shove Jethro in the chest. "Or I'll fuck your ass until you bleed again."

  Now, I knew for a fact that Jet was fed like a lord in his quarters, so when he staggered back from the force of Solo's shove, back crashing against the wall, it was from genuine weakness and not the lack of vitamins.

  Holding his hands up in retreat, Jet looked to me, eyes laced with guilt, before hurrying away.

  My lip curled up in disgust.

  He truly was useless.

  Tightening his grip on my hair, Solo dragged me on my hands and knees into Fabio's lair, calling out, "Look who I found roaming the halls," as he went.

  The moment I tumbled through the doorway, I felt dozens of hungry eyes land on my body.

  Fear paralyzed me, making it impossible to breathe.

  Frantic, I scanned the room for Trigger and came up empty.

  He wasn't there.

  Something died inside of me then.

  Whatever ounce of hope I had of making it out of here unscathed died.

  I was screwed.

  So fucking screwed.

  14

  "Bitch must have taken down a guard," Solo announced, dragging me into the middle of the lair, before tossing me at Fabio's feet. "She had a gun on her."