by Amo Jones
I exhale, my shoulders slacking. “Okay.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” I scoff under my breath.
“Get up.” Tripp grips under my arms and pulls me to my feet. “Hachiro will want you in one pretty little piece when he takes ownership.”
I follow him towards the wooden door that opens out to the long corridor we came down. My skin tightens around the wound on my head and I bring my hand up to touch the tiny scar that now runs down my temple towards my eye. Scarred. Tripp walks out the door and my hand flies out to his bulging arms, his muscles twitching under my palm. “Tripp?”
He stops, turning his head over his shoulder slightly. “What?”
“When my sister comes for you—because she will come for you—tell her I love her before she puts a bullet between your eyes.”
“Noted.” He yanks me forward, shutting the door behind our departure. For once in however long I’ve now been here for, I’m not afraid.
MILLIE
The mid-afternoon sun shimmies over my skin as soon as my feet land on the loose gravel road. Tripp’s grip tightens around my arm at the display of the four dark SUVs that are parked in a line. The sight would usually cause an unwelcome stir inside of me but it doesn’t. I follow Tripp’s lead until the door we exited from shuts behind us and we both turn to see the priest and Kurr walking out in hushed tones. Some sick part of me is relieved that I’m not with the priest. At least there is some part of me that is still alive, even if all that’s left is the sick part.
The passenger door swings open from one of the dark SUVs and I pause. Tripp’s hand falls off my arm slowly and when a Japanese man, who I’m guessing is one of Hachiro’s, steps towards me, my hand finds Tripp’s like a magnet. He doesn’t pull back, which is surprising. The electrical current that surges through his fingertips and into mine is once again very much alive.
Once the Japanese man gets to me and Tripp, his hand grips around my arm and pulls me towards him, yanking me out of Tripp’s hands. “Millie.”
I look over my shoulder to see four other men dressed in clean suits with dark glasses shading their eyes, all standing against the SUVs on guard. I could have sworn Tripp’s grip tightened for a second while I was being yanked away from him, but I’ll put it down to my now jumbled brain playing tricks on me. What’s real? What isn’t? Is this real or did I die on Hella’s driveway all those days ago? How long have I really been here for? There were times when I felt as though I slept for days.
The tugging on my arm brings me back to the now and I swing my head over my shoulder just before I’m getting shoved into the back seat of the dark SUV. Tripp is standing stoic, his fists balled to the side of him. When the door closes and I know he can’t see through the dark tint, I run my eyes over him again, wishing I knew what he looked like. Now I guess I’ll never know.
The men speaking in Japanese die out into the distance as I watch Tripp walk towards the door we exited from, pushing past Kurr and the priest dramatically, and slamming his fist into the wall before walking through the doors. Kurr and David watch the slamming doors from Tripp’s departure and chuckle to themselves.
I drop my forehead to the cold window while the man seated beside me yanks my hands towards him and locks cuffs around each wrist. I sink into my seat, trying to search for my inner fight, the fight I know Melissa would have if she was in my position. She was always the stronger sister, the one who always had it together. I was weak. Not anymore though, not anymore. I can’t say that I’m going to change because that would be too unnatural. The motions my mind wades through are too natural to label it as being “changed”.
My hair trails over my shoulders, hiding my face from anyone around me as the SUV jumps over the grainy gravel road. The gates that held me captive are disappearing into the distance, and although I am free from The Army, I now have to endure whatever else is waiting for me on the other side of this messed up thing called life.
The trip felt long and the dark of the night has already replaced the bright sun we left behind. I don’t know where The Army was. I don’t even know where I am right now, but I’m guessing my ass is about to be shipped to Japan.
I open my eyes just as the SUV comes to a halt. Wiping the sleep away, I inch up off the window and look around the place. The men in the front continue to speak in Japanese, which I find comforting. I’m not sure I’d want to know what they’re talking about. My door opens and a hand grips around my arm, pulling me out into the warm night. Warm? It’s warm wherever we are.
“Come,” the man who was sitting in the passenger seat says as he tugs me toward the house in front of me. I’m not sure it can be classed as a house. It’s more like a mansion. It’s structured with old brick and built with the Victorian-styled window frames which are placed skillfully everywhere. The driveway we came down is a long asphalt road that leads to a large round garden and fountain placed in the front of the wide, stony steps which then lead you to the front door of the house.
The twin wooden doors open just as a man, who had to be around his mid-to-late twenties, walks out. He’s wearing a tidy dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and tattoos running all over his arms, neck, and jaw. His dark hair is hanging casually around his collar and his face is clean shaven. His head cocks while his green eyes linger on me. “Inside, boys,” he says, grinning at me slyly before waving us through the door.
Weird.
I watch the tattooed man closely as I pass him on our way inside the house, noting that his cocky grin doesn’t falter. There’s a psychotic glint in his eye that ticks from beneath that smooth exterior. It throws me back a little.
The Japanese suited man tugs at my cuffs again because I had stopped, and I continue to follow him through the dimly lit hallway. To the right there are spiral stairs that lead to the second level and to the left there’s a modernized kitchen. He continues to pull me forward until I’m walking into a large living room where a gas fire flickers against the wall, lighting up the dim atmosphere.
The Japanese man pulls out the keys and unlocks my cuffs, breaking my wrists free. “Walk.” He pushes me forward towards the fireplace.
I follow his order, knowing good and well that the grip the Japanese man had on me is now gone. I stop in the middle of the sitting room directly in front of the fire place, closing my eyes and soaking up the heat which licks over my arms.
“Millie,” a growl sounds from behind me. My eyes snap open, the warm flecks that were comforting me now ripped away. “Turn around.” I close my eyes, slowly turning my body towards the voice that’s behind me. Once I’ve turned with my eyes still closed, he growls again. “Open your eyes.”
I slowly but surely open my eyes, falling on who could quite possibly be the most beautiful man—I’m not sure you can use the word “beautiful” to describe a man like him—I have ever seen. I tilt my head, my arms dropping to the side. There is a familiarity about him that I can’t put my finger on.
He matches my movement, his head tilting to the side with his drink dangling between his fingers casually. His ankle rests on his knee, his dress shirt unbuttoned, his tie loose and hanging effortlessly off his broad shoulders. He’s sitting in the dim darkness so I can only see the profile of his face.
A smirk kicks up the side of his mouth, hinting to straight white teeth and a smile that could quite possibly scare the devil himself. “Come closer, Millie.”
With confusion coursing through my veins, I take a tentative step forward. His smirk deepens and his eyes darken. His eyes. Why does he have a familiarity about him that I can’t put my finger on? My walking stops. My body freezes and his smirk turns into a full smile that’s anything but beautiful. It’s the kind of smile that would haunt little girls in their sleep.
“Ahhhh…” he begins. “And she gets it.” He turns his head to place his drink on the table that sits beside him and that’s when it’s confirmed. The familiar tattoos that line around the scalp of his head. Th
e sides shaved with the top long and slicked back. Shit.
Tripp.
MILLIE
He stands from the chair, all six foot five inches of him, and I swallow, retreating backwards. “Tripp?”
He laughs, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up even further, displaying his ink covered arms. The tattoos I had become so familiar with.
“Raze,” he corrects me. Noticing the confusion in my expression, he clarifies. “My name’s Raze, Millie.”
Raze? Why all the secret names? Why not just have one?
He continues, “Tripp is my name on the Base. The name the crew call me, the name that is nonexistent. My name, by birth, is Raze.”
“Why am I here? Whose Hachiro? Why are there so many Japanese here? And who are you?” The words fall straight out of my mouth, bypassing any filter.
“You ask an awful lot of questions for a girl who is in a very vulnerable position.” His face is serious yet his eyes dance with menace.
“Well I don’t seem to get an awful lot of answers.”
He pauses, the same smirk clinging to his lips.
My eyes follow his. “Tripp?”
“—Raze.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, my eyes meeting his. “Raze, who’s Hachiro?” I drop my eyes down to the floor, trying to add up whatever story is behind this messed up plan.
“I wouldn’t worry about Hachiro if I were you, pet. You have enough to worry about as it is.” He steps toward me, his musky sweet scent following closely behind him.
“Did you buy me?” I ask, my eyes searching his.
He smirks again. “I did.”
Shit.
“Why?” I ask, stepping backward until my back is pressing against the wall.
“Because I like to collect shit.” He smirks, his tone playful.
“What?”
The door opens again and the same man who greeted us before when we walked in comes into the room. “Boss? Yeah we have a problem.”
Tripp, or Raze, doesn’t flinch. His eyes remain on mine. He answers, “Show Millie where her room is.” Then he turns and leaves.
Tattooed suit, door man—I really need to start learning people’s names, I’m getting tired of referring to people by their attire or their mask—nudges his head, his messy black hair falling around his collar. “Come. You heard him, I’ll show you your room.”
A million thoughts are surging through me. Why the hell am I here? Why did he buy me and is he going to let me go? I scoff to myself. Not likely. Walking towards the long haired man, I follow him as he leads me up the same stairs I walked past when I thought I was being lead to some big time Japanese mob boss. The walls are covered in warm deep reds and maroons. The lighting is set dim, reminding me of a dragon’s lair. Maybe that’s where I’m being led to. I just saw Tripp without his mask on. He spoke more words to me in that small fifteen-minute window than he ever has the entire time I was at the base.
Once we reach the top of the stairs, I continue to follow. “What’s your name?” I ask the wall of muscle in front of me.
“You can call me Miles.” Clipped, but at least I got a straight answer.
We continue to walk down the long hallway when a door opens as we pass it and a young woman steps out. Her dark black hair cascades down to her tailbone and her tight skinny body is held together by tiny lace panties and a bra. I bring my eyes to hers and she smirks at me, a smirk that sends shivers down my spine.
“Miles?” I say as I pull my eyes away from hers. “Who was that?”
He stops at a door and pushes it open. He steps aside and waves me into the room, but I remain there, watching and waiting for him to answer.
“You want to ask questions? You’ll have to ask Raze.”
“I’m not asking Raze, I’m asking you.”
His eyes narrow on me. “I thought you were a nun?” he asks, his eyes raking up and down my body, and it’s the first time I realize I’m still wearing the tight dress I was sold in.
“Yes,” I confirm. “Was.”
He shakes his head. “Everything you will need is in here. Clothes are in the closet. Bathroom opposite your bed. Netflix. The windows are barred so don’t try to escape and if by chance you get your skinny ass through those bars, there’s a pack of Dobermans that run wild on the property. So if you don’t get shot, you’ll get eaten.” Then he turns and walks back the way we came. “Oh!” He tips his head over his shoulder. “And to answer your question? That’s Raze’s cute little toy, so play nice.”
He laughs and continues out the door. I scrunch my face up in disgust before walking into the bedroom. Flicking the light on, I close the door behind myself.
“Well, it’s not a dungeon,” I mutter under my breath. And it’s not. There’s a white metal four post bed that sits to the left of the room. A window directly in front of me that’s covered by a netted curtain. Opposite the bed, an average sized television hangs on the dark grey walls and to the left of it is the bathroom and to the right is the closet.
There’s a cheval mirror which stands in the corner, and my reflection catches my eye. It’s the first time I’ve seen myself since the night I was taken. My collar bone is as sharp as a Swiss army knife and my legs are frail. I look like crap.
Leaving my sad reflection, I walk into the closet and flick on the light which then displays all the clothes hanging on the rails and folded inside little slots which were built into the wall. There are shoes lined together that frame the closet floor too. A collection of handbags are neatly placed on top of the closet as well. Rolling my eyes, I snatch a plain shirt that’s folded in one of the drawers and begin to rummage through all the underwear which are placed in another. “Mother—f—” I curse under my breath once I realize there are no cotton underwear, only skimpy little lace panties that will barely cover my ass. In a huff, I take the white lace boy shorts and the loose white T before walking into the bathroom.
The bathroom is plain, but because I haven’t been in civilization for so long, it feels like I’m living in a palace. The little sink sits directly opposite the toilet, and a box shower sits beside that which is encased by glass doors. There’s a black drawer sitting under the sink which holds a ridiculous amount of makeup and towels.
I look up into the mirror hanging over the sink. My sunken cheeks and eyes display my distress. Why do I get the feeling that me being here is a very bad thing? I turn toward the shower and wait until it’s scalding hot before stripping off my clothes and stepping in. After scrubbing all the dirt and crap off my skin, my face, and hair, I turn off the faucet and step out. Walking towards the black drawer, I pull out a towel and wrap it around my body before pulling the bathroom door open.
“Shit!” My hand flies up to my chest as I clutch the towel in my hand. Raze is sitting on the side of my bed casually, his eyes traveling down my body slowly. “What’s happening?” I ask, walking towards the bed quickly and snatching the shirt and underwear up from beside him.
Walking to the closet again, I pull down some sweatpants and decide I’d rather get changed in here; at least that way, I won’t need to walk past him again wearing nothing but a damn towel. I close the door and lean against it, dropping my towel to the floor and quickly throwing my clothes on. Hearing his deep chuckle on the other side of the door, I collect the towel off the floor and pull the door open again.
Leaning against the doorframe, I slowly run the towel through my hair. “Why am I here, Raze?”
“I need your help,” he states, standing from the bed and walking towards me slowly.
I push off the doorframe, my body tensing the way it always does when he’s around.
“My help? With what? What could I possibly help you with?”
He stops in front of me, his head tilting as he studies me closely. “That will come in due time. For now,” he says, his hand reaching out to mine. I pull back and his eyes slant in annoyance. “For now, do as you’re told and stop asking so many questions, then you might make it out alive.”
He smirks over his shoulder before pulling the door open and leaving.
I thought that things couldn’t get more confusing back at the base. I was wrong; I’m drowning in confusion now.
RAZE
Pushing open the heavy metal door that leads into the basement of my house, I walk through, rolling my sleeves up again.
The heavy wooden oval table that sits in the middle of the large area is lit by the many shimmering lights I have scattered against the wall. The basement is where I conduct most of my meetings. It has one entry and one exit, not including my entry through the house. Five of my men stand on each corner of the room while Miles stands directly behind me. I take a seat at the head of the table.
“Raze.” A nod goes around the table at my entry.
“Hachiro,” I reply, relaxing into my seat.
Hachiro sits forward with his two men beside him, watching me closely. I lock my eyes with his, my jaw taut. I can feel his boys tense up, watching me with careful eyes, so I cock my brow. “You gonna tell your bitch boys to stand the fuck down? Or do I have to remind them who they’re dealing with?”
Hachiro’s eye twitches. I want to laugh because he’ll be hating the position I’ve put him in, which is the position all men find themselves in while in my presence: on their hands and knees like the good little bitches they are.
With a small nod, his boys back down.
“What’s the plan, Raze? Gonna fill me in here or are you assuming that the Yakuza will back you because of who you are?”
I chuckle, running my index finger over the top of my lip. “Mmm. I’m thinking you’re going to be more than happy to accompany me into my plan, Hachiro.” My eyes gleam, the smile that pulls across my mouth doing a poor attempt at hiding my excitement.
“Well, by all means,” he flicks his hands up. “Fill me in.”
MILLIE
Not long after Raze leaves the room, I hear a knock on the door. “Millie?”
