That’s one thing that came all too easily when my darkness emerged—seduction. A natural talent to which my captors exploited whenever they could.
Colt’s right-hand man, Dwight, used to always comment on my appearance. The very first day I arrived, he started a list, recording every fleeting thought of what he wanted to do to me once he was allowed. Joining me in my room every morning to recount the immoral and deplorable acts he’d come up with.
His eyes are the one thing that still haunts me. The darkness, the depravity within their depths… It made Freddy Kruger look like a teddy bear. The eyes are the windows to the soul… Well, Dwight fucking Lockhart’s soul was lost long ago, and no one’s been looking for it since.
It came as no surprise that on the day I turned eighteen, he was the first at my door. Slithering in like a coiling snake and squeezing the breath from my lungs as he forced himself on me. One hand around my throat, the other shoving a blade under my ribs to force me down.
That first time, I tried to fight back. To claw, kick, and scratch my way out from underneath him. I learned the hard way that day what happens when you release the monster from its cage. The seven inch long scar running down my inner thigh can attest to that.
Pinned to the bed, my arms tied above my head and my legs held down by some of his men, Dwight sliced his hunting knife through my flesh. My blood pooled as my skin split, soaking through the thread-bared cotton sheet and down into the mattress as I screamed in agony. My legs stuck to the fabric where the blood created a bond, making it easier to maneuver my frame the way he wanted.
Eventually, the sound of my wails must have become too much of an irritation. The sheet was ripped off my skin with a painful sting and shoved down my throat.
It wasn’t the last time I would bleed by that fuckers hands, but it’s one of the ones that sticks with a person.
The rest of the Havoc Vipers would come and go as they pleased during my time there. Their eyes glinted with cruelty and their guns were always pointed at my head, as if I had the ability to actually run. It didn’t matter the time of day, or if I was sleeping, bleeding, or straight up unconscious—they came. The only saving grace was that Colt made condoms mandatory, threatening death to anyone who disobeyed.
He feared I’d fall pregnant and be unable to continue for him. That my body would no longer be pleasant to look at, and the targets I had been sent after would see through the charade.
For the first year, there wasn’t a single night I didn’t have a visitor, save for the day after my birthday. Now back in the States, I was sent out on my first mission,a test if you will. A single file folder, a packet of rohypnol, and the picture of a man was all I was given before getting kicked out of the SUV in front of some casino. No name, no message, no information.
Since I knew what the drug was, and what they primarily used it for, I went off my best guess. Cozying up to the man whose picture I threw away upon entering the building. A bat of the eyelashes, sway of the hips, and I figured he'd be putty in my palm. Turns out there’s such a thing as being too seductive.
His hands moved too quickly, roaming over parts of me I wasn’t comfortable with. His dick pressed against my thigh while he lapped at my neck like a dog drinking water. Before I knew it, we were making our way back to his private suite, and my panic attack was quickly on the rise. I don’t know what I feared more in that moment, being at the mercy of this intoxicated, over-weight, balding perv or the wrath that would come from Colt if I failed.
Thankfully, his drunkenness kicked in tenfold when we reached his room, and while trying to get his shoes off he stumbled, allowing me to quickly slip the drug into the champagne. Once he regained a somewhat standing position, his chunky fingers pawed at my dress as he mumbled something I didn’t catch.
When he was finally out cold, I didn’t even have enough time to straighten my straps before the door was kicked in and Colt’s men stormed the room. Hands wrapped around my arms, the grip bruising as I was dragged into the hall and down to a waiting car by Dwight's younger brother Liam. The ride was silent, the rain outside pelted the metal in furious drops. The sound acted like a soundtrack to a horror movie as we drove back to the compound.
In movies, you have scenes that play out and lines to rehearse. You know what’s coming and how to react when it does, but with my current reality, not even a script could have prepared me for facing Colt again.
Chapter Four
Mikayla
“Seems as though you have yet to figure out your place, sweetheart,” Colt drawls as I’m forced down in front of him. My knees hit the carpet, the fresh scrapes from the night before, stinging from the friction and more than likely re-opening. My arms are pulled behind me, the unmistakable sound of a zip tie echoes through the room as my wrists are bound together. The action stirs my heart into a fluttered panic, I haven’t been bound like this since the night I was taken. Liam’s palm presses against my shoulder with astonishing strength, keeping me against the floor.
My head stays low with my eyes glued to the ground. Tears are on the brink of falling as my anxiety rages, causing my stomach to churn violently. The hand on my shoulder disappears, the once warm spot on my skin attracting a cool breeze and sending shivers down my arm.
A clicking has my head snapping to thesound. The fear at what I may find, getting pushed back by the need to know. To face it head on with whatever little dignity I have left. Thankfully, it’s not a gun that created the sound, but the door latch hooking as it closes. Liam must have left and now I’m stuck in here with my least favorite person. Staring at his too shiny shoes and waiting to find out why I’m here.
“Why did it take so long to complete your objective?” he snaps, his voice colder than Frosty’s snow balls.
“I-I didn’t think I d-did,” I stutter in a crackly whisper.
The toe of Colt’s leather dress shoe twitches to the right, the only notice I get before the back of his hand meets my cheek and I’m sent flying to the floor. My skin burns, large welts already forming where his rings made contact.
“Do I look stupid to you, girl? I know how long you took. I watched it. It wasn’t fast enough.”
“B-But I wasn’t given any info—”
He’s on me within seconds, his hand wrapping around my throat and dragging me upwards. I can do little to fight him, the skin of my wrists have started bleeding from the plastic withering away at them. My shoulders burn from the constant position, and my chest heaves as I try desperately to inhale a large breath.
Spots crawl along the outside of my vision, the lack of oxygen causing a fuzzy feeling in my brain. Right at the moment I think I’m going to pass out, he releases his grip, throwing me against the wall behind his desk. My eyes close, my body saving any energy it can as it tries to stay conscious. The force of me hitting the drywall shakes the picture frames, knocking a few off center, as a cracking sound reverberates through my body from my elbow.
“I don’t give a fuck about your excuses. Time for you to learn where you belong and what happens when you spew your lies.” Spit flies against my face, my neck jerking to recoil slightly, but I’m too exhausted to move. Every part of my body feels broken or heavy as I lay against this wall. Legs tucked underneath me, my head droops against my shoulder. Maybe this will be it. Maybe this will be where I draw my last breath.
If only I was so lucky. There’s a handful of sounds in the universe to which one can identify without thought. Sounds that are heard so often your brain doesn’t needmuch power to know what’s happening, and they’re different for everyone. Depending on where you grew up or what was always around in some way.
