Not tonight. He’s late for the first time in our career together. I have no clue why, or what’s wrong. We didn’t set up walkies. I didn’t even think about them because we never use them, but of course that was a stupid decision.
I turn and look back at the roof. I’m secluded, and I realize that my only way off is the fire escape. There’s no entrance to the roof from the actual building itself.
A sound catches my ear. I look around, frowning. It’s a low chop, a sputtering noise. It takes me a second to identify it.
It’s a helicopter, flying low, directly toward me.
Suddenly, it clicks. The spot I’m in, the phone call, my father’s lateness. It all makes sense.
I grab my rifle and whirl it toward the helicopter, taking aim. I fire off two shots, but it keeps coming faster than I expected. I have to reload as it screams toward me, descending onto the roof. I curse myself for not bringing something that holds more ammo.
My father. That fucking bastard. Panic and anger rise up in me as I prepare to fire off more shots, desperately trying to defend my impossible position.
Wind whips my body. It’s going to fucking land a few feet away from me, and I’m suddenly cut off from the fire escape. I wasted my chance to try to escape by shooting at them like a fucking fool. There are some bullet holes in the front glass, but the pilot seems unharmed.
Four men with high powered rifles jump out of the helicopter. They’re screaming at me, but I don’t hear them. I fire off two more shots, clipping one guy in the shoulder before they’re only feet away from me. I drop my rifle to the ground and throw a punch at the first man that comes at me. My fist cracks into his jaw with a meaty thud. I feel satisfied for half a second until someone hits me in the back of the head and I fall forward.
My fucking father. That bastard, that son of a bitch. He set me up. I don’t know why he would do this to his own son. His own flesh and blood.
Feet smash into my body, and then I’m being dragged. Someone throws me into the helicopter and then the world is dropping away.
Blackness overwhelms me as I’m knocked unconscious from the butt of a gun slamming against my temple.
Chapter 24
Grace
* * *
Gio better let me out of this damn room. I color in the sketch, shading it. I love this one. He’s going to love it, too. I keep looking to the door. He’s late tonight. He told me he would be, but I still don’t like it.
I only get to see him. I miss… I miss variety, I think. I tried to explain it to him earlier. I need to get out of here. Soon. He always says soon. But I need a timeline. I love being his princess, his submissive, his… his everything. That’s the way he makes me feel, and I love it. But I need to get out of this damn room.
I put the pencil down and hold the paper away from me. It’s beautiful. In my periphery, I see the cage. It looks so small now. It’s odd, how before it didn’t seem to be. But I can’t imagine going back in.
I turn to look toward the door as I hear Gio coming. My forehead pinches as I move to kneel for him. We always start the nights with training. It’s basically foreplay for me now. I place my hands on my thighs, and my pussy clenches waiting for him. But there’s something wrong. The footsteps sound… different. I jolt as something bangs on the door.
My heartbeat races with worry. Gio?
I hear a muffled voice, and then another. That’s not Gio. My blood runs cold, and I scramble off the bed. Someone’s here. The banging has stopped, but I hear them punching in a code. It won’t work. Only Gio can open that door. I walk backward, my eyes on the door, wide with anxiety.
My throat closes, and I struggle to breathe. Where’s my Gio?
I almost run to the cage, as if hiding would save me, but it won’t. Nothing will save me. If these men are here, it means something bad happened to Gio. I know he wouldn’t let them near me without a fight.
My chest tightens, and I look around the room for anything that can be used as a weapon. My easel. I run toward it, holding my breath. I nearly scream as a large thud on the door accompanied by shouting makes my body freeze with fear.
I crack the easel over my leg, and then split the large stick of wood into two. The edges are jagged. I hold both tightly in my hands, feeling the wood dig into my palms. I wait, moving back and forth on my heels, but I don’t want to stand out here in the open. I have nowhere to hide though. I look under the bed, but it wouldn’t give me much room to fight. Instead, I move to the bathroom and hide behind the tiny edge of the doorframe.
My heart races with anxiety. I close my eyes tightly, praying for Gio to come.
* * *
I cover my mouth with a sob and drop the one weapon as I realize he could be dead. My father. He’s come for me! He better not have killed him. Not Gio. I can’t bear the thought.
No!
No! Gio! I can’t go back to my father and that wretched life. I won’t. As the thought resonates through me, the door smashes open and the sound of several men coming into the room echoes off the walls. A large cloud of dust and smoke billows into the room, and I can barely make out the men. My heart sinks, and I slide down the wall, my fingers searching for the weapons I dropped in my panic.
