He cackled, but a disgusting hacking sound followed it.
“I’d use my dick, but I’m gonna stick that in your ass. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll cry for your—”
A sound from above caused Diggy to stop suddenly. He spun on his heel and stared at the doorway before stomping off.
“Javier, is that you?”
Javier? I wondered if he was the guy behind this. Maybe he would listen to reason.
I sat up, praying someone had finally found me and I wasn’t about to be traded to an asshole who would do worse than threaten to do bad things to me.
“Hey!” Diggy shouted as he slammed through the door at the top of the stairs. “Who the fuck—”
There was a muffled pop followed by a heavy thud on the floor above. I held my breath and stared at the open doorway at the top of the stairs. What if no one came down here? What if I was left in this cell to rot? What if—?
A man appeared, this one far more menacing than Diggy. I clutched the blanket tighter and inched back toward the wall, praying this wasn’t the end while at the same time hoping perhaps it would be because I was tired. Tired of being here. Tired of my life in general. I wanted to go home.
I moved back a little more when the man produced a key ring. The click of the lock was so loud and so welcome that tears sprang to my eyes.
The man didn’t enter, but he held out his hand to me. “You want to go home?”
I nodded.
“Can you walk?”
I shrugged.
“I’m gonna carry you.” He took off the button-down shirt he wore over a T-shirt. “If you’re opposed to that, tell me now.”
I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. I honestly didn’t think I had enough strength to get to my feet, much less walk up all those stairs.
“You don’t have to fear me,” he said, his voice smooth like fine Swiss chocolate. “Here. Put this on.”
He held out the shirt, and I took it with trembling fingers. As soon as I clutched it, he turned away from me. Clearly giving me privacy.
The shirt was soft and smelled good, so I hurried to shove my arms in the sleeves, then fumbled with the buttons to conceal my nakedness.
“You decent?”
“Yes,” I rasped, my throat so dry it hurt.
He slowly turned around to face me. “You have a problem with me carrying you?”
Deciding it was my only option, I shook my head.
He approached slowly, as though hoping to wrangle a feral cat but not eager for it to claw his face off.
When he crouched down, I tossed the blanket aside and fought the tears that threatened when he gently slid his arms beneath my knees and behind my back.
“I’ve got you, girl,” my savior whispered as he lifted me into his arms. “You’re going home.”
The good news was my motherdidpay someone to look for me.
What I didn’t realize was that she would go so far as to hire a brutal, ruthless man to do the search and rescue. Diggy died mid-rant when a bullet hit him right between the eyes. A bullet from the gun of my savior, the same man I would eventually sell my soul to—intentionally or due to circumstance, I wouldn’t know until much, much later.
Too bad my mother didn’t realize it would’ve been cheaper to pay the fifty million, although I never understood why anyone would’ve thought I was worth that much to her.
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