If, for no other reason than to have the energy to fight another day. He’s waiting me out, I think. And that’s something I can’t fight. Hours and hours have passed.
I don’t know how much time has elapsed exactly, but I know I have to sleep. I can’t stay awake forever, waiting for whatever’s next.
I’m powerless and completely at Carter’s mercy. And he’s not even here. He had me stolen from my home, then nearly left me in the kidnapper’s arms. And now that he has me, he’s left me to go crazy on my own.
That’s exactly how I feel as my heavy eyes stare at the steel door and sleep threatens to take over. When you don’t know what’s waiting for you, what you’ll have to fight, it can do that to you. It can make you feel crazy.
Another hour passes, or more. So much time escapes and all my fight has gone. In its place, only fear and exhaustion remain.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I whisper as I stare at the camera, imagining all the answers it could give me. And not a single one of them offers me comfort.
I find it hard to believe that when I first heard his voice, I was so desperate for him to take me away. The blame lays on my survival instincts. The fear of what those men would have done to me made me desperate for Carter to steal me away. My mind drifts back to that moment, and I wish I’d looked harder for a different escape.
He’s going to come back. And I need to be able to fight him. But how can I, when I don’t know when he’s coming, and I have to sleep? Eventually, I have to sleep.
I doze off once, at least once that I know of, and startle awake only to find myself aching on the floor. Forcing myself up, I try to open the door once again and then cry on the floor beneath it. I imagine him opening it in that moment, and that alone scares me to move to the farthest corner in the room.
How heartbreaking it is, that the only bit of comfort I have is knowing that when the monster comes back, I’ll be as far away from him as I can possibly be. Even if it is only ten feet.
But it’s what I needed to finally give in to sleep.
Of all the things to dream about, I dream of my mother.
And once again, I should have known better than to let my mind wander to the memory of her death.
Chapter Seven
Carter
She fell asleep after fourteen hours of looking for an escape, slamming the chair into the door, screaming profanities, rocking against the wall, and whispering all her regrets.
And I watched every minute of it well into the early morning. Obsessed with what she’d do and watching the fight leave her as every hour passed.
After she’d realized her efforts were hopeless, she hummed softly. So low, that I thought it was only a buzz from the camera until I turned up the volume. She hummed for hours. I don’t even know if she noticed.
She’d finally fallen asleep, the hum of a lullaby still soft on her lips. The thrill of victory sang in my blood.
It was only then that I left my office and the monitors, reminding myself to be patient. I wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet beneath my desk is worn from the pacing of my shoes against it.
My last thought as I left the office and checked the monitor on my phone, was that as much as she was fighting now, she’d cave. She’d give in and obey. She has no choice. And time is on my side. Not hers.
An hour into going through orders and updates on each of the deliveries, I heard her screaming again. But instead of it bringing the buzz of a challenge, her screams curdled my blood.
The sweat is still hot on my skin by the time I finally get to the cell and kick the door open with the gun cocked in my hand. My heart pounds in my chest. Aria’s screams are violent and shrill.
I don’t know what the fuck happened, who the hell got to her or how they got in here. But someone has their hands on her.
My heart hammers and the anger of her defiance is dulled by something primal, a raw fear that sends a prickle of unease through my body in an instant. I can hear the terror in her voice as she cries out into the dark room for someone to help her.
Someone’s in there. Someone’s hurting her. It’s undeniable in her screams. I can’t fucking breathe. I finally have her in my grasp. Mine.
My breathing is barely controlled with the gun raised in the air above her place on the floor. Whoever it is will die a painful death for taking what’s mine. “Please!” she cries out, her eyes shut tight as her body stiffens and her back arches on the mattress. She screams again, trembling, and helpless. Her small body is cradled into itself.
“Carter!” I hear Jase call out to me, the door to the cell still open. I can hear him running down the hall.
Now that the cell is open, anyone and everyone in here can hear her screams.
My gun lowers slowly as Jase enters the room behind me. His breathing is ragged as he closes the distance and stands next to me. Our shadows tower over her small frame, lying destitute in the bed. She doesn’t stop crying out, and although she doesn’t sob, the sounds are there.
She’s captive to her dreams.
“Night terror,” Jase says with a heavy breath. The metal of his gun rubs against his jeans as he slips it back into place and then looks at me. “I thought someone got in here.” Tiredness is etched onto his face, but also the raw look of fear. He takes a moment to compose himself before starting to tell me, “I thought…”
As he starts to speak, she screams out again and the sharpness of the pain sends spikes over my skin that scrape their way down my body.
It’s a desperate cry that sounds foreign to my ears, although I’m so used to hearing something similar. Pleas for mercy, which I never show.
“What do you want to do about it?” Jase asks me. He’s still catching his breath, just like I am. I can feel him staring at me, wanting to know what to do next. I can’t tear my eyes from her as she curls on her side.
Jase turns to the door as the sounds of someone else coming down the hall makes their presence known.
“I’ll put her on the mattress,” I tell him absently. “Take care of whoever that is and shut the door behind you,” I order him, and my words come out flat. I try to keep the emotion away, but a sense of despair is evident. This wasn’t a part of my plans. My fingers dip into my pocket, fingering the clicker that will open the door to the cell while I’m on the inside.
“You think they did something to her? Romano? Or maybe it’s what she thinks is coming?” Jase asks and finally I turn to look at him.
“How the fuck would I know?” My words come out harsh. The anger at him suggesting her terror is caused by thoughts of what I’ll do to her is unexpected and more than that, unwanted. Of all the things I expected from her, I didn’t anticipate this.
It cuts me in a way I can’t explain. I want to consume her every waking thought. I want her to live and breathe for me and my desires. And maybe this is the cost of it all. That I can have her during her days, but her nights will destroy her.
“Just a nightmare then,” Jase says as if it’s a casual observation. The whimpers still slipping through her parted lips are accompanied with a strangled sound of pain.
“You aren’t supposed to wake them, you know?” Jase breathes out. “When they have night terrors, you’re not supposed to wake them up.”
The light from the door is blocked and the shadow of someone else covers Aria’s slender neck and bared shoulders. I don’t turn to look, but I don’t have to. It’s Declan, asking what’s wrong. He knew she was here, but he doesn’t want any part of this.
“It’s fine,” Jase tells him and then continues, “I don’t think you can do anything really.”
“Just go,” I tell them both and stand as still as I can as they leave the room, taking with them the light from the hall as the door shuts. The creak of the steel is met with a thud and then the click of the lock. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Another moment of her small cries and then a scream. A terrified scream.
“What did I do that earned me this?” I question her alth
ough I know she can’t hear. I haven’t touched her; we haven’t even started. I almost touch the cuts on her wrists, but I pull back. I’ll give her ointment and bandages in the morning. She’ll have to do it herself until she earns my touch.
“Please don’t,” she begs in her sleep. Her words are whispered so softly, and I wonder if they came out that way in her dream. “Please,” she begs.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, songbird,” I tell her softly and consider my own sanity in this moment. “You never had a choice. The moment your father left me alive, your fate was sealed,” I confess to her. Something I’ve never said aloud to anyone.
He should have killed me. It’s Nicholas Talvery’s fault I’m allowed to live another day.
His fault… and someone else’s. The moment the thought comes to me, I see her tremble. Beautifully weak on the cold, unforgiving ground, the sleep taking more and more of her as her words become quieter.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and it’s the only part of her that moves. “Please.” Her lips mouth the word.
Kneeling before her, I’m slow and deliberate as I pick her up. Conscious of where my gun is tucked away in case she’s playing me. She’s light and fits easily into my arms. I thought she may fight me. That she’d react in fear to my touch. But instead, she molds her body to me and her slender fingers grip onto my shirt. Holding me tighter to her.
Her lips brush against the crook of my neck as I carry her the few feet to the mattress. Her pleas are still whispered, and the gentle warmth of her breath sends a tingle down my spine. I barely contain a groan of desire as I move her to the mattress. She clings to me still, holding tightly and begging me. This time she begs me not to leave her.
“Don’t go. Stay with me… please,” I barely hear her words. Her face is still pained, but there’s gentleness in her cries as I shift her onto the mattress.
Her hand fits in mine as I pull her fingers from me and place them on her chest. Her chest rises and falls as she calms herself, slowly drifting to a different place.
Time passes quickly. Too quickly as I sit on the mattress, making it dip with my weight and staring down at her. Her heavy sighs emphasize her breasts, the bit of lace from her black bra peeking from her shirt. It almost tempts me as much as the dip of her waist.
My gaze caresses each curve of her body as I remember the first time I heard her name.
The day my life changed forever.
Her bed groans in protest as Aria turns in her sleep, settling into the mattress and my body stiffens. I shouldn’t be here right now. That’s not how I gain the control I want. I can’t breathe until she’s still and her own breathing evens out. But as I move to stand, shifting my weight ever so slightly, the mattress slumps and her hand falls, her soft fingers brushing mine, the tips touching.
My hand stays still beneath hers, but it begs me to explore. To thread my fingers between hers. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I remind myself that there is time.
Time will change everything.
My eyes open at the reminder. Just like that day did years ago.
The day my father dropped me off at the corner of West and Eighth by the liquor store to sell that last bit of his pain pills. I was more approachable, according to him and we needed to pay the bills. It didn’t matter what I said or how much I didn’t want to do it. I was the oldest of five, my mother was dead, and I had nothing left in me. Nothing but pain.
My father dropped me off on Talvery’s territory unknowingly. And it wasn’t long before I learned what it meant to sell drugs on his ground.
I was only a child before that day.
But one day changes everything.
Chapter Eight
Aria
Waking up with my heart beating out of my chest, the hope that it was all a nightmare crumbles into dust when all I can see is cement and cinder block walls.
I have to close my eyes and cover my face to keep from losing it. “This can’t be happening.” The trembling words leave my lips unbidden. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I try to tell myself that it’s all a dream. I rock back and forth, and as I do, the sounds of the mattress creaking beneath me and the feel of my heels digging into the comforter makes my body freeze.
I try to remember last night, and I know full well I slept on the ground only a few feet away. I know I did.
My hands fly over my body. As if they could check to see if I was touched.
I feel the sharp edges of a scratchy throat but swallow thickly, trying to suppress the terror of what he could have done to me.
I must have crept into the bed and not remember it. I know I haven’t been touched. I would know, wouldn’t I? “I would,” I say the words aloud as if I was speaking to someone else. Maybe I just needed the reassurance. I don’t remember a thing after falling asleep. I wish I could have just stayed awake.
The whispered words echo in the hollow room as I glance up at the door. And then to the camera as it moves. Carter Cross, I almost speak his name aloud. I’ve heard his name before, always spoken with anger. I know he’s one of a number of brothers and the head of a drug cartel. That’s where the information ends. My father never liked me knowing anything and the only bits I learned were slivers of the truth from Nikolai. And he only told me what I needed to know. They said it was to protect me, but I would give anything to know what I’m up against.
I’d give anything to know what Cross is capable of.
Is he just going to leave me here to die? My throat pains in a way I didn’t think was possible.
“Let me out,” my raspy voice begs and the words themselves are like knives raking up my throat. I haven’t eaten or had a drink of water since I’ve been here, and I don’t even know how long that’s been.
I stand a little too quickly, and nearly fall as I try to make my way to the door. I’m dizzy, lightheaded, and I think I may throw up.
Still, I head straight for the door, pulling at the doorknob and desperately trying to open it. My fist slams against it, over and over.
There’s no use, stupid girl.
Again, I slam my fist and scream out, “Let me go!” but I’m only met with an unmovable door in an empty room, with no way out and no idea of what will happen to me.
The pain from the next slam of my fist makes me wince and cradle my hand to my chest. My back presses against the door as I fall down slowly onto my ass, resting my head against the door.
So many slow moments pass. Moments where I just try to breathe. Moments where my fingers brush along the cuts at my wrists. Moments where I stand and stretch and pretend like it’s not odd to stretch when you’re caged like an animal. What’s the point if there’s no escape?
It takes me longer than it should to see the foam tray with a grilled cheese sandwich and the cup of water next to it.
And a bucket of water with a sponge behind it. I spent so much time staring at the door, I didn’t see it.
He came in here.
He was here.
My chest heaves and again my fingers travel to my thighs. He didn’t. I would know. I can barely contain the fear of knowing he came in here while I slept. It’s hard to swallow and I stay far away from the tray of food.
Time slips by again. And then more time. There is no change in my predicament, save my sanity.
Although my stomach grumbles and the delicious scents of butter and cheese are all I can smell, I leave the tray where it sits.
I don’t eat, and I don’t undress to bathe myself. Not with him watching. The anger boils and rises to such an extreme that I almost slam the bucket across the room, straight at the camera.
I’m not his pet or his test subject. He can take that foam tray and go fuck himself with it. At least that’s what I think when I first move closer to see it; the thought even gives me joy. Hours pass and then more. How much time, I don’t know. There’s nothing in this room and loneliness and boredom are only two of the emotions I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle if this is how
my new life will proceed.
My mind starts playing tricks on me and I find myself etching small things into the cinder blocks with a button on my shirt. The shirt’s already ripped so it doesn’t matter. The top two buttons have been pulled off, the first one long lost and the second now a writing tool. A small and poor one, but there’s nothing else to do but pace and let my mind wander.
And that leads me to awful places.
I’m busy carving a pattern, a useless, meaningless pattern of birds and vines into a block that’s not even deep enough to be seen clearly when the door opens behind me.
My heart lurches and I swing my body around so violently that the back of my head collides with the wall, the button slips from my hand and the sound of it pinging to a stop on the ground fills the room.
The flood of light is lost quickly as Cross steps inside my cell and closes the door behind him. His figure is like a shadow of darkness as he walks toward me.
“What do you want?” I ask instinctually, barely able to breathe, let alone swallow the pathetic words before I can speak them. I’m glad I didn’t eat because if I had I would have lost it all in this moment. Panic rages inside of me.
He’s quiet as he takes one step forward and then another. He only takes his eyes from me once, and that’s to look at the chair in the corner of the room.
“My father will come for me,” I tell him as he walks toward the chair and positions it so he can sit and face me. “He’s going to kill you,” I add, and my words are strangled, but audible.
All I’m rewarded with is a soft smile on his lips. The stubble on his jaw is more noticeable and his eyes seem darker, but maybe it’s just the light. Everything else about him is more foreboding than I remember. His height and broad shoulders, the lean build of his body with the rippled accents of his muscles. God made him to do deadly, sinful things. One look and that’s obvious.
As if reading my mind, he grins at me, forcing me to take a step back, which only widens the grin to a charming and perfect smile. I feel like I’m caught in a cage. A little mouse to a lion. And he’s only toying with me.
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