Intertwined: A Redemption Novel

by Sasha Brümmer

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’ll fight for you, you know that I will.”

  I try my damnedest to remember anything from my self-defense classes that I took a couple of years back. A few moves come back to me, but I know that all of my efforts will be lost if I attempt to fight back. I’ll be dealt double what I give out.

  The malign walls of the room seem to be closing in on me at an alarming rate. I’m not sure what to do now that I’m here. I haven’t known what to do since I was stolen from my life. From Liam.

  This time I don’t hold back the tears that well up in my eyes as Liam’s handsome face appears in my mind. This experience could be detrimental to the baby and me, and I haven’t done anything to fight for our lives as of yet.

  How will I ever be able to forgive myself?

  How will Liam be able to forgive me for giving up so easily?

  Please, please, please.

  Day two in this hole isn’t much better.

  They’ve left me alone for the majority of the time, keeping me secluded from everyone is, in a way, a punishment on its own. I was allowed out once last night to use the restroom and when I returned there was a glass of piss next to a half-eaten sandwich mocking me in the middle of the floor.

  I moved everything aside and sat back down in my spot, trying to keep myself warm by pulling Liam’s sweatshirt over my legs as well as bounding my arms around my midsection. I fell asleep like that last night, and as I contemplate how I’ll get some rest tonight, the door swings open with Grady and another man standing there looking down at me.

  “What do you want from me?”

  I shouldn’t have asked.

  I know because the smile that slides onto his malevolent face is one that I never want to see again in this lifetime. I know without a doubt, though, that it will haunt me in my dreams.

  He takes the couple of steps he needs to in order to get to me and reaches down, fisting a handful of hair before dragging me to my feet by it. I wince as the unforgiving sensation spreads across my scalp, which in turn reopens the gash in my temple.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up. I have some clients that want to meet you, plastic bitch.” He shoves me out of the door and into the chest of the man in front of me.

  “Lead the way,” Grady tells him as he starts to walk down the hallway.

  I, however, stand my ground.

  “She’s resolutely perverse. Maybe I’ve got the wrong clientele lined up for you, after all, dirty doll.” His hand moves back into my knotted hair as he starts to walk down the hallway, forcing me to follow beside him at a crooked angle.

  I’ve lost count of the sheer number of doors that we’re walked through, as well as which way I’d need to run in order to escape this place.

  It doesn’t take long until he pushes my weak body against a solid wall in what seems to be an unaired communal bathroom. I take note of the multiple nameless women in the large open showers, each one shadowed by a man that is twice her size as they all try to scrub off another man’s sins from their skin.

  My heart nearly stops beating when I see that some of them are entirely vacant of life as they look over at me. Their eyes tell me more than their words ever could, and I mourn for their lost lives. They seem to have put a tremendous distance between what they are experiencing and a life that they once lived.

  My eyes search each of them before I stop at one woman in particular. She stands out to me because her eyes are still alive. She’s shaking her head to and fro while teardrops fall before she starts mouthing something at me. It takes me a second to realize what it is that she’s trying to tell me, and the second I do is the same second that I want to forget while she continues to mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  I duck my head down before I can set aside the images of the women in front of me. After a moment of reprieve, I stare up into this brute’s sin-filled eyes.

  “I can see through your bullshit. He’ll come for me, and you know that he will.”

  “Oh, but dolly, he won’t know where to start with the amount of evidence indicating your presence everywhere we stopped on our way over.”

  I don’t reply. There’s really no use in riling him up. If he hasn’t been taking his anger out on me, then he’s been using one of these other women as a punching bag.

  “Are you done with your pussy power?” He chuckles and points at the far wall. “There’s bleach on the rack over there. I’ll leave you to get started.”

  I glance at the wooden shelving unit that he’s referring to that contains a number of cheap bathroom products before shaking my head in refusal. “No. I’m pregnant.”

  “And?”

  “I can’t put that on my skin. It will harm . . .”

  “All the more reason to do it then, huh? I’m sure that your cocksucker Jensen wouldn’t mind.”

  Fuck.

  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I don’t move from my spot as he watches me carefully. I know that the more I refuse, the harder he’ll come down on me when the time comes, but I’d rather not bend to his every command.

  “All right. Pick one of these sluts to help you if you can’t do it alone, you indolent bitch.”

  Pick one? What will that mean for her? That she gets a reprieve from being raped long enough to bleach a pregnant woman’s hair? Or will she suffer for helping me? Oh God.

  I concede and point in the direction of the one who was in tears mere moments ago, telling me how sorry she was, as she’s being led out of the room.

  “Stop.” His repellent voice fills the expanse of the room, which causes every person in the washroom to pause in what they are doing to look over at him.

  The man holding onto the rope she now has secured around her neck stops his movement and glances over at the three of us.

  “Bring her back,” Grady commands. “She has a job to do.”

  I watch as the man holding onto the end of her rope tugs on it, which causes her to gag.

  Grady turns his attention back to me once they approach us. “Strip.”

  I watch her eyes dart to mine as pure confusion and withering fear fills her red, swollen eyes.

  “Please,” she whispers as she gets closer to me.

  “Strip, plastic. I don’t have the fucking time to watch you bitch about being pregnant again. Instruct her on what to do. I look forward to seeing the transformation once you’re done,” he tells me as I pull each item of my clothing off and set it aside. Once I’m done, he hands me a bracelet to put on. It’s a plain stainless steel piece of shit with a number-engraved bar on it: 236698.

  In this brute’s world, I’m a mere number, but I refuse to let him use me like I’m next in line.

  “I can see why Jensen is so fucking drugged up on you. I might be the first one to take my turn on you before these assholes ruin you.” He grabs me by the hair and pulls me to him. He inhales and takes in my scent as he runs his nose up the column of my neck and stops at my ear.

  “Even though it will be forced, I’ll still be able to make you come harder than any motherfucker has before me. Just you wait, dolly.”

  It takes every ounce of restraint I have in me not to bring my knee up to his nuts. His attempt at seduction isn’t lost on me. I’m not some stupid loon who enjoys anything that any man tells me. If he meant to get a rise out of me, then the asshole better think again. I won’t fall into his little trap or his lap for that matter.

  “You remind me of her,” he says as he runs his tongue over the shell of my ear.

  “Of who?” I grit out.

  “236698.”

  I glance down at my wrist, which is now ringed in silver.

  “You know, don’t you? That’s why I gave you the same number. The same bracelet. She was my favorite and my first.”

  I wince as his hand moves to cup one of my breasts. “You’re smaller than her, though. You were the runt, weren’t you?”

  I don’t mean to, but I slap his hand away from my body as fury rises like bile
in my throat.

  He shoves me away, causing me to fall into the girl that’s going to help me with my hair. We both land on the unforgiving concrete floor, causing the dimensions of my bruises to grow. Grady hacks and then spits on me before turning and walking out of the room.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as we both right ourselves and stand on unsteady legs.

  “Why . . . why does he want me to stay?”

  I note that she’s British.

  “Where are you from?” I ask as I’m handed the shit for my hair.

  “Bristol, it’s in England.”

  “I know it,” I tell her as I take a seat and hand her the products. “I need a little help, please.”

  “To bleach your hair?” she asks as she reads over the bottles.

  “Yes, and I was hoping that you’d know where we are.”

  One of the burly giants clears his throat and takes a step toward us as a silent warning.

  “I have an idea of what country this is, but that’s the best that I can do.”

  I take a seat and run my fingers through the knots in my hair. “Please, when you do this, try not to get it on my scalp. My baby . . .”

  She gasps and covers her mouth, speaking to me through her fingers. “You’re pregnant?”

  I nod and cover my stomach with my palm as she moves behind me. She leans forward and says quickly. “I was in Greece on vacation when I was first taken. When I was sold again, I believe I heard Macedonia.”

  Her words flow so tightly together that I almost don’t understand her, but I do the second she cries out in agony as one of the two men watching us pulls on the rope around her neck in an attempt to close off her airflow.

  “Let her go! Stop!” I cry out. “Grady won’t be happy about this,” I insist as if I know anything about these malicious monsters and their protocol.

  Two more seconds pass as she struggles against the rope before he lets the tension on it go slack.

  “I’m sorry,” I say underneath my breath and turn back around. I can’t put these girls at any more risk than they already are. I know that if Liam comes for me, which he will, I tell myself, he won’t leave a single one of these women behind.

  The two of us remain naked and silent while she applies the thick mixture to my hair. I don’t know how, but she manages to keep the majority of the product off of my roots before wrapping the length of it around itself.

  “Done.”

  “Thank you,” I say when I turn to look at her, but she’s pulled away from me by the rope and led out the same way that I came in.

  I shut my eyes as I wait for the bleach to warm and change my naturally pitch-black hair to ash white.

  I don’t know if I’ll see her again, but I’m unbelievably appreciative for her at this moment and will be for the remainder of my life—however long that might be. I’m left to my own devices to wash the bleach out of my hair and then thrown a bar of used soap to clean the remainder of my body with. I run the waxy bar through my now snow white and brittle hair. I force myself to focus on something outside of this building. Closing my eyes, I stand underneath the cold water and travel back to the moment Liam made me his in front of everyone at Blended.

  These men might be able to physically scar me and mess with my soul, but they’ll never take away what I have waiting for me at home.

  I should have kept track of how many days have passed since I got here, but my heart just wasn’t in it after the first five went by and my door remained locked.

  Whenever I close my eyes, I’m transported back in time to a padded room and the dire need to get out of the hell that holds me. It may feel like I’m dying, but I can’t focus on much else than the unrelenting discomfort in my abdomen.

  All I know is that I’m constantly famished, and the stabbing pains in my stomach cannot mean good things for my dewdrop. I haven’t been sold or taken advantage of as of yet, but I know that when it happens, it won’t be pretty.

  I lie down on the floor of the silent concrete box that’s morphed into an isolated prison cell. The rough flooring is hell against my back, but it’s nothing compared to being someone’s private sex slave.

  I understand now that there is a difference between having your own demons and being one. I refuse to think of my disease as a monster any longer. I’ve been through my personal hell with it each step of the way, but never once did I allow it to affect others, not like these men who are holding so many women captive. These men are the stuff of nightmares: they are the reason that things go bump in the night; they are the demons that live in the world with us, not the dark and murky disease inside of me.

  Over years of fighting an internal battle, I’ve come to this miraculous conclusion in the most unlikely place. I realize now that I’ve been off of the medication that kept me in a deep fog for awhile now, and regardless of my issues in this last month, I’m still breathing.

  I wallowed in despair for years.

  I survived depression when everyone told me to give up and take the drugs.

  I survived my own wounded soul.

  I will survive this.

  Perspective. Fuck that word and how others view the world. Right now, everything is fucked, and it’s once again my burden to carry. My current view of the world is distorted and pathetic as I sit in the cabin of my jet that will lead me to yet another fake sighting or suspicion of where the current location of Isla is.

  It’s been two weeks. Two fucking weeks since she was taken from underneath me, and I fucking detest myself for it. Self-destruction kicked in the moment I received a call from Wade. He drilled into me and chewed me out until I was fucking manic. I’ve allowed the darkness in, and I’m eager to use it on Grady Kent. I’m slowly immersing myself deeper and deeper as the days move on, and he better be ready for me to extract my revenge on his goddamn life.

  My stoicism has welled up and run out, but I won’t let her go. I’ll never let her go.

  I haven’t been able to get much sleep since the night in the hotel in Key West. Before the police arrived, I went back to the room and searched the still body of the fucker who tried to take me out. Kent must have known that the fucker would not have a chance against me, which is why he sent him. He got sick of waiting to hear from me after successfully fucking up my life.

  Grady must have known that I would end the guy before he did me because he planted Isla’s engagement ring in the poor fucker’s suit pocket with a slip of paper in the middle of it.

  Catch me if you can.

  He’s toying with me, and I don’t doubt that he’s watching from afar. I’m sure that he has more of my men involved in this bullshit than I care to know about, but I cannot let that stop me from moving.

  The moment I find her, I’ll castrate the fucker, as well as anyone else who has laid a single hand on her.

  Needless to say, I’ve halted all other recovery efforts that RW was in the middle of working to have every fucking person in my organization focus on finding her.

  I got news this morning that they’ve narrowed it down to one of two locations. I’ve not ventured into sex trafficking in either country before, but if they’ve gotten supposed sightings of her there, then I’ll make it work. I cannot allow a single lead to go to waste when she could be anywhere in the world right now.

  Two weeks is a long time to go without hearing from someone, and a lot of searches would usually be called off by now, but I won’t stop searching this time. I’ll remain in the thick of it until I find her dead or alive. There’s no cease-fire this time around, and fuck keeping the peace when it comes to these raids. I’ll personally put a bullet hole in every fiend’s head as I take over their compounds.

  There have been many times over the last fourteen . . . now fifteen days that I’ve almost lost who I am to a heart of stone. This is one of them when I have to force my racing mind to stop and solely focus on finding her instead of what I’ll do to him when I find him.

  I blow out a heavy breath as the plane hurtles through the
foreign skies.

  There are multiple men and women undercover in this dank world, and word spreads quickly when one of our own is taken. I’ve seen men blow through years’ worth of undercover secrecy to save one of our own. I’ll do anything to make that happen for Isla.

  This morning, we received two hits from two separate agents working the field under the guises of slave handlers. One of them is located just inside the Greece border and the other in Macedonia. I’m unsure if this is the continuation of the rat maze that Grady has sent me on, but I cannot ignore it.

  In the last two weeks, I’ve added thirteen stamps to my passport, and I’m fucking hoping that these will be the last two for a while.

  I’ve forced myself to get up and hold myself upright when I’ve lost all faith. She’s the reason that I’ve sworn to both myself and Wade that I won’t give up trying to find her. Not until my life is taken from me for trying. I don’t plan on going home until I have a pregnant Isla Madden in my arms.

  “Prepare for landing,” my pilot says over the speakers, and all of my men open their eyes before buckling up and sitting upright in their seats.

  I take the last swig of whiskey in my tumbler before slamming the glass against the marble table in front of me, causing it to shatter. Pieces of what once was whole settle at my feet. I throw my head back against the headrest and try to focus on what steps I have to take next.

  When we land, the captain of my team calls the handler who provided us with the information as the SUVs are being loaded up with our gear. I keep glancing over at him as I supervise the equipment transfer.

  “And you’re sure?” he asks as he looks up at me from his laptop. “Delay it for as long as you can. We’ll be there.” I watch him hang up before he speaks again. “She’s not in Greece, Jensen. There’s an auction scheduled for later this evening in Macedonia. We don’t have a lot of time to get there, and we’ll have to go in unnoticed.”