by C. Hallman
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Hunter tells me when we reach Ryker’s room. “Get on the bed.”
I lie down and lift my arms for him to cuff me to the headboard again. He does, making sure they are tight enough to keep me in place but won’t cut into my skin.
“Bye, Sugar.” Ryker winks as they leave the room.
Silence settles over me, and the anger over the men talking about me like I’m worth less than the dirt beneath their feet rises again. What did I ever do to them?
I get they are evil men on the wrong side of the law, but would a little decency kill them? Maybe they get off on scaring me, making sure I’m aware they hold all the power.
8
The sound of the lock disengaging startles me. The guys must have forgotten something since they just left. The door swings open and all the air whooshes out of my lungs.
“Well, hello there. Fancy meeting you here.” Derick cackles, like a male version of the Wicked Witch of the West. He closes the door behind him, and my heart plummets into my stomach.
I pull myself up to sit as best I can with my hands cuffed to the headboard.
“You’ve caused quiet the rift between me and my friends.” He stalks towards the bed like a predator, like a wild animal about to go in for the kill. “I figured the least you can do is let me use you for all the trouble you’ve caused.”
“Use me? What is fucking wrong with you?”
“Many things.” He grins and then lunges on me.
Like a wild banshee, I kick out my legs, bucking my body, and try to fight him off. I yank on the handcuffs with such force I swear I hear a bone crack, but I don’t feel any pain.
It doesn’t take him long to overpower me. He grabs my ankles and pulls me toward him so I’m flat on my back again. Then he shoves my legs up, folding me in half, so my knees are against my chest.
He pins me down with one arm and pulls my pants down with his free hand, exposing me to him in the worst way.
“It’s really nice of them to leave you here tied up like this. Just ready to be fucked.” He runs his hands through my folds roughly, his nails digging into my flesh. “What should I fuck first? Your cunt?” He shoves his finger into my opening and I have to stifle a scream. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing or hearing me cry.
“Or your ass?” He removes his finger from my dry pussy and shoves it into my ass. I immediately cramp up, which makes the bastard only laugh louder. “Ass it is.”
He removes his hand and shifts over a little. I hear clothes rustle and a zipper being unzipped. Bile rises in my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut and hope that this is going to be over quickly.
“I’m going to enjoy treating you like the slut you are. I’ll fuck your tight little asshole until it bleeds, and then I’ll fuck your cunt. I’m going to relish every scream and plea from you whore mouth–”
His words are cut off by his body being flung across the room. My legs flop down to the mattress and I watch in horror as Hunter kneels over Derik, grabs his head and smashes his skull against the unforgiving concrete.
Oh, my god, he is going to kill him.
Hunter’s fists smash into Derik’s face over and over again. He is going to beat him to death, and even though the guy was about to rape me, I can’t help but want Hunter to stop.
I just want him to hold me instead.
Derik’s motionless body drops to the floor. Hunter stands, his chest heaving viciously.
He stares at his unresponsive friend, his features contoured with violent rage, almost like he is daring him to get up and put up a fight. His bloodied hands curl into fists beside his body.
Time seems at a standstill. No one moves. No one says anything.
After what seems like hours, Hunter finally composes himself enough to turn to me. His eyes roam down my half naked body. Renewed fury flashes in his eyes.
“I-Is he d-dead?” I stutter.
“No, but he probably would be if Ryker was here.” At his words, my gaze flickers to the door. It’s open, but no one else is there.
Hunter bends and grabs Derik’s ankles. He pulls him out of the room, and out of my sight. I want to tell him not to leave me, but before I can make my throat work again, the door slams shut, making me jerk at the sound.
Pain, the adrenalin rush before dulled, shoots through my body with a vengeance. My left hand and wrist throb the worst. I’m almost certain something is broken.
Twisting my head, I peek and confirm my left hand is already swollen. My wrist is double its size, leaving no room between my skin and the metal of the handcuffs.
My head snaps back to the door when it’s opened once again, and I sigh a breath of relief when I see Hunter’s face.
He approaches me with care, like you would a skittish animal, avoiding my gaze. I don’t understand why. Is he worried what he might see?
Getting on the bed, he looks between my legs, and his jaw clenches. Slowly, he reaches for the sweatpants and works them back up my legs. I lift my butt slightly so he can dress me.
Once I’m covered, he looks at my wrists.
“Fuck,” he growls and pulls the key from his pocket.
I try not to, but still wince at every movement of my wrist as he uncuffs me. With every tiny touch, another lightening bolt of pain shoots through me. I grit my teeth together, stifling a scream because I want to be tough, even though I have no real reason to pretend.
“I need you to take this.” Hunter removes a small white pill bottle from his pocket. Popping the top open with his thumb, he dispenses two large tablets into the palm of his hand. “I need to deal with some stuff before I can take care of you, and I can’t tie you back up with your wrist like that.”
“Okay.” I let him place the pills on my tongue, and a bitter taste fills my mouth right away. He reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand and helps me drink so I can wash down the medicine.
Cautiously, he lifts my arm to inspect it further. Before he puts in back down, he shoves a pillow beneath it to keep my hand elevated.
“Your ring finger is broken. Your wrist might be as well. It’s at the very least sprained. We’ll set it while you’re out.”
“Why?” I ask quietly. I am genuinely curious why he would go to all this trouble if they are going to kill me in a few days.
“I don’t know… maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should end this now. Put you out of your misery,” says, but it seems like he is talking more to himself than me. He still hasn’t made eye contact and as crazy as it seems, I really wish Ryker were here.
He stays until whatever he just gave me dulls the pain in my hand and wrist, along with the fears and dreadful thoughts swirling around in my head.
A warm happy feeling floods my body, all the terror washed away, and I sink into an absolute peaceful darkness.
9
When I was eighteen, I had to get all my wisdom teeth taken out at once. It’s the only time I was put under general anesthesia. I remember the oddity of being put to sleep and then waking up the next instant, like no time at all had passed.
That is exactly how I feel right now.
I’m about to open my eyes when I hear Hunter and Ryker’s hushed voices on the other side of the room. I keep my eyes shut and concentrate on breathing evenly so they don’t suspect I’m awake yet.
“The longer we keep her here, the worse it’s going to get when it’s time to kill her. We need to end this, especially now with Derik going insane.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Derik wants. He better be glad he is still alive,” Ryker growls.
“Do you think I give two shits about Derik? I don’t. But we need him and I do care about the rest of us… you, me, Lincoln, Eli, and Delilah,” Hunter speaks softly. I store the name Delilah in the back of my mind for a later time. “We’re putting everyone at risk by keeping her alive. We both know we’re just elongating the inevitable.”
“Fine. Sunday.” Ryker sighs. “Give me to t
he end of the week, and I’ll do it Sunday night after she falls asleep.”
At once, I get the days in order. I’ve been here for one night. The transport happened yesterday–Wednesday, which means today is Thursday.
Three days… I’ve got three days left.
Until now, I thought I was okay with dying, but now that my life has a solid end date, I’m not sure anymore. I might have nothing to live for, but there are possibilities of the future.
I haven’t let myself dream of a happy and fulfilled life often, but a few times I imagined having a family of my own. Imagined building a new life.
Most important, I have unfinished business. The reason I wanted to become a cop in the first place. I swore to find him, make him pay, but I won’t be able to do that when I’m dead.
The profound urge to break free from this prison surges through me. A newfound vigor.
I need to find a way out of this, so I can finish what I’ve started.
I need to stay alive.
I need to fight.
The room quiets for a long time, and I almost fall back to sleep when the bed dips. My eyes flutter open and I’m greeted by Ryker’s handsome face.
“Hey, Sugar. How are you feeling?”
“Um…” I do a mental check of my body before I look at my hands. Both wrists are bandaged and my left hand is wrapped in a brace. My ring finger sticks out straight with a splint on either side. “Fine, I guess.”
The pain is minimal, probably due to whatever drug they’ve given me. I glance up to find Hunter has left the room. I didn’t even hear him leave. Maybe I dozed off again after all.
“I’m going to help you sit up so you can get something to eat.” Ryker slides an arm under my back and lifts me. The movement clarifies that more than my hand is battered. I groan in pain.
As I stretch my legs out, I notice a weird sensation between my thighs as well. Wetness clings to my skin and for a moment I think I’m on my period. I reach between my legs with my uninjured hand, but Ryker blocks me.
“It’s just ointment,” he explains. “Derick scratched you.”
“Oh,” I pull my hand back, forcing the image of Derick on top of me–violating me with his finger–from my mind. I replace it with Hunter and Ryker, tending to my unconscious self with care.
That should appall me, but knowing they tended to my injuries soothes me. Which is mind boggling since I know they’re planning on killing me in my sleep.
Everything they do is a contradiction, and everything I feel is a paradox. Even knowing that Ryker is planning on taking my life in three days to come, I feel safe with him at this moment. I feel taken care of in the most peculiar way.
There must be something fundamentally wrong with me.
Ryker places a pillow on my lap and sets a bowl of soup on top. He hands me a spoon and I eat. I’m glad it’s chicken noodle soup, because honestly, I don’t know if I could stomach anything else right now.
“Why did you want to become a cop so badly?” he asks when I’m halfway done with my soup.
I shrug. “It was dumb.”
“I still want to know,” he presses.
“I guess I wanted to help people who can’t help themselves. Put away bad people,” I explain. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.
“Bad people like me?” I glance over at him, finding a tiny smirk tucking on his lips.
“Yes… and worse. I used to think everything is black and white, good and bad.”
“Then you realized everything is gray?”
“No, there are definitely bad people in the world, pure evil. But I don’t think you are one of those people.”
“I think you might be wrong about that,” Ryker says, and I recall what I’ve read in his file. Based on the crimes he committed, I would have made him out to be pure evil. I know now that he is planning on killing me on Sunday, and yet, I still don’t find him evil. There is a light in him, deep inside, that shines through the cracks occasionally.
“I think good exists in you, even if you don’t see it yourself.”
“You’re naïve,” he tells me, but not in a demeaning or patronizing way. His voice is soft, as if he wants to make me understand why I’m wrong.
“Possibly.”
“Tell me about your life before you became a cop.” He is trying to change the subject, but that’s one conversation I don’t want to have.
“I don’t enjoy talking about my past.” I continue eating, keeping my eyes on the food in front of me.
Luckily, he takes the hint. “I get it. I don’t like the past either.”
“Do you have any family?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking for two reasons. One, the silence is uncomfortable. Two, the more we get to know each other, the more the connection grows, the higher the chance is that he won’t go through with killing me. Although that chance is still low knowing his history. He knew the men he tortured as well.
“My mom died of cancer a few years ago. I never met my dad, and my brother has been in prison since I was eighteen.”
“I’m sorry your mom died,” I say honestly, knowing the pain of losing a mother. “Why is your brother in prison?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’ve read your file, Ryker. Not much shocks me.”
“This might…” A shiver runs down my spine. He tortured two men to death. What the hell could his brother do that is worse? “He was part of a gang in our neighborhood. Some guy had stolen some money from them and they went to his place to get it back. The guy barricaded himself inside his house, so my brother set the backdoor on fire to smoke him out.”
Ryker pauses, as if he doesn’t want to finish the story. I wait patiently, not wanting to push him. After a few moments, he continues.
“The fire spread quickly. So quickly that the guy didn’t make it out, and neither did his pregnant girlfriend.”
My mouth opens in shock, and I draw in a shaky breath. Ryker was right. That is worse. All crime is terrible, but the ones involving women and children are the most heinous.
Every death is heartbreaking, but none as much as a life taken before it lived. Ryker must be reading my facial expression.
“I told you it was worse.” I don’t disagree with him this time. He takes the bowl from my lap and sets it on the nightstand. “Hunter has a bathtub in his bathroom. I thought you might like to soak in it tonight.”
“Tonight? Isn’t it nighttime right now?” Between taking those drugs and not having access to sunlight, my inner clock is completely out of whack.
“It’s only noon.”
“But I went to sleep around noon.”
“Yes, yesterday. You’ve slept almost twenty-four hours.”
Shit, shit, shit!
I slept a fucking day away. That means today is Friday and I’m supposed to die in two days. That only leaves me forty-eight hours to find a way out of here.
“A bath sounds wonderful.” I force a smile, trying to hide my dismay about the timeline being moved up. “So, what are we are doing the rest of the day?” I ask casually.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?”
“A walk?” I echo nervously. “Yeah, why not…”
Unless take a walk is code for killing me?
10
I stare at Ryker’s arm as he holds it out to me like a gentleman would on a date. Chewing on my bottom lip anxiously, I loop my arm into his and let him lead me out of the room.
He said he would wait until Sunday, but I don’t believe it.
“Just a walk, Sugar,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Nothing more.”
He closes the door behind him, and we walk down the hallway. This time we go to the opposite side that led us to the kitchen and follow a long corridor that seems to go on forever. There are identical doors on the right side of the wall, but none on the left.
At the end of the hallway there is a split, and Ryker guides me to the left.
“Wow, this place is huge,” I murmur.
Ryker says nothing and eventually stops at a door. My heart races and my stomach churns with fear of the unknown.
He opens the door, and I half expect to find some kind of torture room behind it. Instead, I find something I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.
We step into a vast space, probably the size of half a football field. There is a running track along the walls, and an open gym in the center. The enormous area is completely underground, no windows, only concrete.
“We’re in a bunker,” Ryker explains.
“Oh, that makes sense. I figured we were somewhere underground.” Hope falters. We’re in a bunker, not a basement, which means there is most likely only one way out.
“The military built it in the fifties, but they sold it to some millionaire prepper who renovated it to prepare for the end of the world.”
“As you do,” I say sarcastically, as we amble down the track.
“Pretty, smart, and funny. I like it,” he flirts, and I can’t help but smile.
How can this feel so normal? How can I smile knowing I’m talking to my killer?
“It’s the perfect hideout,” I point out. “No one will find you here.” Or me. No one will come to save me. I must save myself.
“Yeah. Apart from being underground, this place is out in the middle of nowhere.”
Oh great.
My chances of getting out of here alive are dwindling down with every new revelation.
“How is your wrist?” Ryker changes the subject.
“It’s throbbing a bit but not really hurting much.”
“We got more pain meds if it gets too bad. You don’t have to worry about Derik coming back. We locked him in his room.”
“Thanks.”
We walk in silence for a short while and I let all the questions I want to ask him run through my mind. Who is Delilah? How is he going to kill me? Why is he waiting until Sunday?
Of course, I can’t really voice any of those questions, so I think of something I can ask.
“Where is Hunter?”