Chapter 33
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ZENA (31YRS)
“I said, get yourself out here, girl.”
“Go away,” I scream. “Katie!” my voice, raw from all the yelling and crying syphon out like rocks scraping against a wall. I know it’s a waste of time calling for her. It’s that time of the day.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” A hard slap resounds through the room and I watch from my precious hiding spot behind the grate as Katie’s body hits the floor with a fierce whack. Her cheek bouncing with the impact before a river of thick red blood leaks from her lip. Vacant eyes stare at me for a few seconds then they close, shutting me out, forgetting once more that I existed.
Heavy footsteps drag over the wooden flooring, scouring a year’s worth of dirt behind it. “You can’t stay in there forever, little girl.”
He’s so wrong. He and I both know my stomach had learned how to withstand the pangs of hunger, the debilitating squash of need for water, for something sweet. He’s way too big to fit into this vent I’d found in the wall. It’s a tight squeeze even for my frail body, but I’d rather spend days stuck in here, my body aching from being stuffed into the tiny space, than face him. I’d done it so often, my body had learned to adjust. Through the holes in the grate, I catch glimpses of black sneakers that had seen better days and now almost gray with grime.
“Get the fuck out here now, Zena!” his rough voice carves another notch of fear in my chest.
Heavy thumps hit the wall above my head. Panic singes my bravery and I try to move further back. I can’t. It’s too narrow. Another thump sends dust raining down on me from the rafters the vent is made up of.
“Please, go away,” I beg on a whisper. Then I scream as a fist comes tearing through the paper-thin wall I thought would protect me. Another one follows in quick succession, and another. My screams blending with the blows as I try to shield my face, my body from the offending debris.
Then silence. I open my eyes, slowly lifting my head to the gaping hole that I know in my heart is the window to my demise. Another scream rips from my body as a pudgy hand ending in thick fingers and dirty nails comes flying through the open space and searches for me. I shove at it but it’s no use. It grips the top of my head, strong fingers twisting in my tangled hair and yanks upward. I wince against the pain, clawing at the hand to let go before I’m pulled through the hole and tossed across the floor.
Breathing hard, I groan as searing hot pain floods my body and with it hard, rough fingers grip my panties. For just a second, they still before the grotesque face of a monster I no longer recognize, crowds my face and then pressure between my legs takeover my fight for survival.
“Daddy, no!”
I came to with a start, my chest rising and falling in quick succession. Placing a hand over my heart, I winced at the jumping pulse beneath my fingers, wondering how dreams had the ability to shape our future. How it could make reality seem so insignificant if you continued to live within the walls of those nightmares. How it was also able to give you strength you didn’t know you possessed until you were thrust into a situation you had no hand at creating. Whether by chance or intentional, circumstances could always be controlled, it all depended on sheer willpower and mindset. Yet that same control could be your ultimate weakness.
Wiping the sweat of my brow, I sat up and stared out the massive windows of my bedroom—a better word would be prison, a beautiful one but still a prison cell, nonetheless. I raked a hand through my waist length hair and swung my legs over the side of the bed. These were my days. Sleep, wake, eat, nap, eat, sleep. Almost three years of banal nothingness. How exciting.
As always, the sea view from my room was spectacular but it had ceased to be an attraction for a while now. When exactly, I had no idea. But after having spent so long imprisoned in a place some might call an ideal tourist venue, the appeal was lost on me now.
I was short of nothing. Every room in this fort was beautiful and a distraction on the days I felt I was losing my mind. The refrigerator was always fully stocked. I had a wonderful cook and a stunning housekeeper, so all the necessities were taken care of. Personal toiletries required a written note placed on a notice board in the kitchen and within a day I’d get what I asked for. All my clothing requirements were fulfilled by a boutique assistant who dropped by twice month with a variety that would clothe an army of women.
Yet, even with all that I still had no clue who’d kidnapped me. Yes, kidnapped. How fortunate. I uttered a dry laugh. Who, in their right fucking mind gets kidnapped, twice? Zena Sen. That’s who. Oh, wait. That’s me. A woman with a modern brain, thinking she was strong enough to take on the fucking mafia yet stupid enough to do it. It still didn’t answer the burning question, who kidnapped me?
One minute, I was hiding from Remo and his men and the next. Some asshole was stealing the breath from my body. And if I thought my life had ended, waking up in a place that would on a normal level be considered paradise, wasn’t what I expected. Still, no one gave me answers and no one visited, so whether it was Remo or someone else that kidnapped me, I would never know, for however long that took.
My current life in a nutshell, didn’t exactly stink but some family interaction would be nice. Whoever held me captive made damn sure I had no way of contacting the outside world. The staff that worked here, weren’t allowed to bring mobiles into the property and no one would give me more than a hello. How exciting. Oh, wait, I said that already. And it didn’t change a damn thing.
Shaking my head, I raked my hands through my sleep ruffled hair pulling it together into a ponytail. I stood, slipped on sandals, and reached for the hair tie.
“Hello, Zena.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I jumped, a hand flying to my chest, my hair falling in waves around my face and back.
Swallowing down the fear, I stared at the man I’d last seen three years ago, leaning against the doorframe. Blue eyes, intense and foreboding, pierced my soul and I shuddered. Apart from the gentle streaks of gray blending with the dark hair at his temples and the locks that fell over his brow, he hadn’t changed much. Yet, for some odd reason his powerful build appeared more imposing, more defined, more beautiful. Maybe I felt that way because I hadn’t laid eyes on an attractive man in three years, nor had I been touched by one. Whatever it was, the admiration wasn’t returned. If anything, the salt and pepper scruff he now sported, seemed to deepen the scowl on his face and the glare in his eyes.
What had I done to deserve such a cold response? Granted, our last interaction wasn’t ideal, had the three-year gap not made a slight difference toward what? Forgiveness perhaps.
“Hello, Lorenzo,” I finally found my voice and with it the realization that I had in fact been kidnapped by the Rossi’s again. Fuck, I was like a prime example of don’t get caught with your panties down, around these men.
“I believe you owe me an explanation,” his terse tone didn’t go unnoticed.
Somehow, I think between the first and second kidnapping, I chose to live on planet stupidity because the next words came barreling out my mouth in a screech. “Iowe you an explanation? Are you fucking kidding?” Giving no thought to my actions, I crossed the room to stand in front of him. “I’m locked away in God knows where for close on three long fucking years andIowe you an explanation,” I seethed. My chest puffed out in exasperation, and I was surprised he merely glared at me. Strangely, I didn’t care. Then something dawned. “Wait. You knew I was kidnapped? You knew why I was kidnapped? And you didn’t bother to come visit? To come see h—”
He took a step toward me, his gait menacing, and I unconsciously stepped back. “Trust me, girl,” he growled. “If I’d known you spreading your legs for just any dick would’ve resulted in a child and robbing its father of his rights, you’d be—”
