Going to sleep beside her and waking up with her in my arms.
Her puffy cheeks and exaggerated breaths when she would attempt to keep pace with me while we jogged.
Kissing for hours on end. Only breaking apart when we needed oxygen or we were at risk of lockjaw.
Holding her when she cried because her parents weren’t there for some milestone.
Sneaking sly looks at her while we were both meant to be studying, in awe of her intense focus and admiring how stunning she was.
Driving all over the state, scouting ideal locations for her photography.
Taking bubble baths together, daydreaming about our future and all the things we were going to do.
Swimming in Tahoe and Clear Lake during summer break, when we would spend hours in the water, with Ash using my shoulders as her own personal diving board.
Long summer nights spent at the beach, huddled around firepits, sipping beers with our friends and shooting the shit.
Posing for copious pics and letting her use me as her guinea pig while she was learning about lighting and positions.
Walking hand in hand around school, beaming at one another like lovesick fools because I was her everything in the same way she was mine.
I was constantly pinching myself because I couldn’t believe she loved me. I couldn’t believe I was the one she chose. That this gorgeous girl smiling up at me was my forever, because it often felt too good to be true.
Pain spears me through the chest, and my heart throbs behind my rib cage. Since Dad died, I’ve been sleepwalking through my life. Barely conscious of all the bad decisions I was making. Pushing the only girl who matters away. I haven’t been a good boyfriend to Ash for a while now. I was so wrapped up in my own shit I neglected her and let her down. Allowing pride and hurt to dictate my actions when I discovered what had happened with Ares.
Honestly, it’s no wonder he was able to get to her. I haven’t loved my girl the way she deserves. All that shit with Jase didn’t help either. We left her vulnerable and alone and susceptible to that prick.
I hate he’s the one comforting her now. I have no one to blame but myself. If I get the chance, I am going to make it up to her. I am going to be the man she needs me to be, and I’m not losing her again.
I don’t even know if she’s okay. She was injured, and then assholes ambushed her on the road.
Has Ash been taken too?
Are they all here someplace?
What about my mom and Tessa? Who will look after them if I never return home.
Although it’s hard, I shove those thoughts aside. I can’t afford to sink into a black hole. I can’t lose hope. I’ve got to believe I’ll get out of here because I need to take care of my family and I need to win back the heart of the only girl who exists for me.
The creaking of my cage door drags me out of my head.
“It’s showtime, pretty boy.” The short, bald dude grabs me out of the cage by my feet while the other guy looms over me with his hand at the holster attached to his side. My hips, one arm, and the side of my head slam against the cage as he pulls me out, causing tremors of pain to shoot through my body, but I don’t cry out, biting down on my lips to trap my painful groans. I’m yanked unceremoniously to my feet, and my aching muscles protest the movement. I grab the wall to stop myself from falling as I straighten up, attempting to loosen the kinks from my sore limbs.
The taller dude grabs my arm and thrusts me forward, and I almost face-plant the ground. The men chuckle, and how I wish I had Jase and my baseball bat with me. We’d turn these fuckers into a bloody pile on the floor. I make a silent promise that, when I get out, I’m coming back to teach these pricks a lesson.
Working hard to ignore my aching body, I straighten my spine and focus on my surroundings as they lead me out of the room. The fact they don’t restrain me is telling. They have the utmost confidence no one can better them or escape. I’m praying their arrogance is just that and not the truth.
This time, we turn left down the dimly lit hallway. The previous time, we had turned right. I catalog everything as we walk, counting the doors we pass and noting the position of cameras mounted high on the walls.
I’m yanked to a halt outside a black-painted door, and the first goon raps hard on it.
“You can come in.” Her voice is like nails scraping down my back, and acid crawls up my throat at the thought of what she has lined up for me today.
The shorter guy pulls me into the softly lit room. Madame X, as she instructed me to call her, is sitting on a black velvet couch, dressed in another black PVC outfit with a multitude of straps crisscrossing over and around her hideous fake tits, leaving little to the imagination. Fishnet tights and high-heeled ankle boots complete her look. Her face is plastered in makeup, and her painted red lips look cartoonish. Dark hair combed back into a tight, high ponytail pulls her face taut, highlighting the extensive work she’s had done. It’s a miracle she can even move her face.
Bile collects at the back of my throat, and my eyes narrow at the tub resting in the middle of the space. To one side is a table with toys, chains, whips, clamps, and a variety of collars.
“Close the door,” she commands, looking at me as she instructs her two minions. The men take a few steps back, and I hear the bolt engaging as the door is locked.
