Loud banging rattles in the back of my head, startling me awake as I scurry to figure out what’s wrong. Sounds boom down from upstairs as another drunken night ensues. He never shares me with his friends, keeping me for himself, but it’s never stopped them from trying to come down here and take turns. At least with the old bastard I knew what to expect; I knew what he liked and what had to be done to get him off me as fast as possible. Hence the lovely upgraded mirror courtesy of my head, my very hard head that didn’t always want to learn his ways. The shouts begin to pick up, forcing my heart to beat faster the closer they come. No…no…no, I begin to say to myself, fearing the rowdy bunch will come down here. My attention turns in time to see the door to the basement stairs fly open with a loud boom, and heavy boots begin to stomp down with purpose.
“Here pussy, pussy, pussy, I’ve got somethin’ fo ya!” A raspy voice rings out as more of him comes into view.
Buck, my owner’s right hand man, and a big, nasty bastard at that, stumbles down the stairs on his way toward the cell. My body begins to shake uncontrollably, and I dive for the metal fork sticking up in that damn can before he rounds the corner. Buck is a mean fucker that promised me from the day I was brought in that my ass, literally, would be his the minute master wasn’t around to protect me. Protect me, funny.
Tucking the fork into the back of my waistband, I cower into the darkest corner, praying he won’t spot me. I’ve seen Buck bring down a slave or two. He beats them horribly only to turn around and brutally rape the girls before leaving them on the floor for the cleaner to take care of. My nightmares usually consist of the screams of terror from those women. Rarely do I remember all the details of my own mounting traumas in this place. The scent of whiskey and cigars assault me before his bulky figure squares off in the entrance of my cage, taunting me with the key as he loops it around his finger, his beady eyes narrowing in on me.
“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. What’s it gonna be?” His other hand comes up to stroke his long, ratty beard. I don’t answer, there’s nothing you can say to a man like this, a depraved animal who has no humanity left. He looks like a fat old biker on meth, all twitchy, fingers digging at invisible bugs all over his skin. “No answer, well, I will get you screaming soon enough.” He advances the key toward the lock, triggering the buzzing to begin in my ears.
My lips tremble as a soundless whimper attempts to escape and my hand goes behind my back, fingering the cold metal tucked there. Metal grates on metal as the lock on my door clinks, tumbling open. The sound an ominous tone, sealing my fate. Noises from upstairs seem to dissipate as Buck advances, going lord knows where. Part of me wishes the men would come back and bring the old man with them to save me from the damage sure to come. Where the hell is that nasty old fuck?
Buck’s cold laugh reaches across the distance like the fingers of death brushing down my spine as he rakes his eyes up my cowering figure. The cement bites into my bruised ass as I press further into the corner, trying to disappear.
“Awe, look at you tryin’ to hide like a little mouse, hope you squeak for me real pretty as I jam my giant pants snake into that little ass. I bet it's tight too, like a virgins,” he groans and grabs himself through his jeans, his erection disgustingly obvious.
It is all my throat can do to hold back the bile rising.
“Ya gonna get up and bend over on your pallet or we doin’ this the hard way?” He stomps up to where I sit, stops, and kicks one of my legs out from under me with the steel-toed boot.
Pain shoots up and into my thigh, but I hold steadfast as I grip the fork tight behind my back.
“Guess the fun way then,” he grunts, and grabs the limp forearm in my lap.
The forceful slap against my bruised skin, followed by the sheer pain of his grip, makes me snap. My vision narrows in extreme focus. The ringing in my ears cranks up into full blast, and a forceful power that I didn’t know I had springs forth like a coiled snake attacking. A guttural, feral sound rips from my chest as my clenched fist plunges the only weapon I have into his dick with as much force as my weak body can manage. Adrenaline surges, making the rush of blood thrum harder through my being; four hundred and sixty two days of fucking hell fuels an anger I didn’t know possible.
His flesh satisfyingly gives way to the sharp, metal prongs, a sensation that makes me thrust it even further and twist before letting go. His screams of agony are music to my ears as his large body drops to the ground. Jumping quickly out of the way, the open door to my cage catches my eye, and I make the split decision to run for it. It’s now or never. I’ve tried to escape before, early on. Unfortunately, those attempts didn’t get me very far and always ended in me being beaten, dragged back, and used up ‘til I was nothing but a bleeding mess on the ground. I’ve had my stomach pounded in so many times; I bet nothing in there even works right. But this time, maybe they will just kill me if they catch me.
Buck doesn’t even notice me gunning past him as he howls on the ground, his hands contemplating whether or not to remove the offending device now seated deep in his sensitive flesh. Hot sticky blood courses out and around his writhing figure like an ironic painting of gory agony. When I felt the metal eat into him, and added an extra push, I sent up a prayer that it successfully hit something vital. It would appear that my wish came true, or damn near close.
My feet carry me to the stairs, and I begin to climb with weak limbs that protest all the way. That sweet adrenaline rush urges me on, my sense of hope egging me to not give up. Half way up the broken steps, I collapse on all fours in a cloud of dust. Luna, get your fucking ass up! I gasp and pant, forcing myself up. As the top steps near, the animal below squeals obscenities like a stuck pig, encouraging me on. Pulling myself up to the door, shaky hands reach for the decrepit handle. Slowly turning the knob, my lips whisper up to the high heavens, asking for help, and for none of the other guys to be on the other side. My heart slams into my ribs as I force the wood panel to creak open. Musty air assaults my nose as I peek around the door. My eyes bounce around the ratty shit hole filled with broken furniture and trash. There isn’t a single light on; the only visible beam comes from the wide open front door. Sounds of drunken men filter in through it, all of them out back drinking no doubt. Massive swearing, grunting, and crushing beer cans echo in the distance.
“Come back here you little cunt!” Butch screams from behind me, startling me back into my body, and I spring into action.
“Daddy, if you can hear me, please help me,” I squeak as my tender feet carry me as fast as they can out the front door, down the wobbly front steps, and into the dark woods. Shouts from the men outside tell me they hear the piece of trash in the basement hollering for help. My heart beats faster, breaths piston in and out of my chest as I push myself in a sheer panic to keep going.
Do not stop to enjoy the first feeling of fresh air on your face since the day you were taken, Luna. And don’t even stop to relish in the crunch of leaves under foot, or the sweet autumn air now kissing the dusk. Baby girl, keep fucking running until you can’t physically do it anymore. The deep rumbles of the voice startle me as it comes from a source long gone. Disbelief shocks me but I listen.
Yes, daddy. I breathe, and focus on following his direction, telling myself that I will debate the reality of this message truly being a possibility and not a trick of my broken mind later. And so I do.
The forest brushes and branches beat against my flesh, tearing bits of me away as I go. In the distance, I hear the men pursuing me. Their voices try to convince me to come back, yelling things like it is useless for me to run, because if they find me, they will drag me back. If I thought they’d spare me by simply ending it all right here and now by taking my life, I would stop, lie down on the forest floor, and wait. But let’s be real, they’d never be so kind as to just end my existence if they caught me. And who knows what those sick fucks would do to me while they waited for the master to get back.
As the forest begins to
recede, Lord only knowing how far I’ve gotten, a meadow becomes visible in the fading light. The voices chasing me down like prey fade further until I can barely make them out, something has deterred them. My heart, for the first time since that horrific day in which I was taken, dares feel the tiniest bit of relief. Despite the gift, my legs forge on as they continue to carry me forward across the thorny, uneven ground, through the tall grass, over a gravel road to the far end where a dark, red barn sits not far from a ranch style home. Feeling the fatigue wash through me, and the shaking begin again, I buckle to the ground. Deep, angry voices from the forest begin to sound a bit closer. No! I’ve come too close now! Through gritted teeth, I clamp down and crawl through the mud. I can’t even feel my bare, raw feet any more. Inch by inch, I keep moving… a string of grunts and cusswords… toward that beacon within my reach. The mud shifts back into gritty gravel, like little teeth biting into my hands and knees as I near the building.
Thankfully, the barn door is ajar. By sheer force of will, I half stand in a hunched shuffle and almost fall over as I muster my way through, collapsing on the other side. The angry men’s voices ring out alongside the barking of dogs and terror forces a cry from my throat as I push myself up to hit the small side door. As the wood slams in on its jam, snot and tears begin to travel down my face. Fearful that they will come in here, I crawl on hands and knees to a nearby pile of loose hay. My body falls onto it as my head begins to spin. Bloody, torn open hands move quickly to cover me in an attempt to throw off the demon spawn and their rabid dogs. Those fuckers were mean as hell, and I’ve had suspicions for a while that they play a part in helping the cleaner with the girls who died down in the hellhole. This is probably a worthless attempt considering the blood trail I left on my way in, but, hey, what the hell.
A small light streams in over the stall I’m embedded in by a single bulb near the door. The flickering beam allows me to make sure all my bits and pieces get covered as I sink into the scratchy matter. Turning my face to the side, I throw a huge chunk over my head and burrow my hand back in. That’s as good as it’s going to get. Anxiety travels through my tremulous body as I attempt to find comfort in the inviting hay. Compared to the raised concrete slab my bones had adjusted to passing out on, this is one hell of an upgrade. The smell of the dried grass sweeps my spinning mind into blissful memories from childhood, as my vision begins to ink out, no longer fueled by the rush that got me here. This is it; perhaps peaceful death will come at last and will take me into the arms of my daddy. Thank you sweet, baby Jesus for a peaceful end.
Chapter 2
Leo
Crouched in my workshop just behind the house, minding my own damn business as I try to get my bike back on the road, the deep shouts of unwelcome assholes have my head whipping around as my eyes scan out across my property. Steel, my hundred and twenty pound Native American Indian, who resembles a giant wolf, is up on my heels, hackles up. The reason I bought five acres in the middle of fucking nowhere was to have a little piece of privacy in this godforsaken world. A low growl percolates up from my chest as I throw my wrench to the ground, the loud clank ringing in my ears as I palm up my Glock. Creeping to the side of the open door, gun drawn, I spy three of those goddamn hillbilly meth heads from up the road circling my barn. Their hounds wildly paw at the siding, whining, and yipping at their masters as they come around, heading for the side door.
“She’s got to be inside, let's go,” the taller of them shouts over the hyper-excited dogs. Did they give that shit they cook up to the dogs too? The fervent scratching of the dog's nails against the wooden planks of the barn grate on my nerves, triggering my twitchy trigger finger. Steel noses the back of my calf, letting me know he’s ready on command. Damn fine dog he is, and a highly trained killer, just like his master.
As one of the meth heads goes to open the side door, I start marching toward them, my boots loudly crunching on the gravel laid out between my buildings. Not wanting these assholes up in my space a second longer, I pop a shot and hit the old cowbell over the door in warning. They all jump like panicky, jittery crack heads before ducking and diving for their own weapons.
“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them or I will start taking out knee caps for fun. Then I will land one square in your fucking heads,” I grit out in warning.
None of them are a match for my special ops training or speed with a gun. I’d love to see them try. Naturally, they don’t listen, their grimy hands still moving for their pieces so I do as promised and fire a shot at the one in the coveralls. He drops like a bitch, screaming as he clutches at his limb.
“Who’s next?” My deep voice rumbles across the dimly lit drive.
The other two stop digging and raise their hands where I can see them, their eyes shifting in a dumbfounded way back and forth between their writhing comrade on the ground and me. Their dogs continue to go bonkers, circling their masters, making that vein in my neck bulge and tick.
“That’s what I thought. Y’all got about ten seconds to pick up your trash, take those fucking hounds, and get the fuck off my property before I start aiming a whole hell of a lot higher.”
The dirty cocksuckers freeze, looking at each other for answers, no one wanting to make the first move.
“Do I need to count to three for you stupid assholes before I start aiming for your clits?”
They all begin to guppy mouth and stammer over one another as I take another step toward them. Their hounds begin to growl, triggering Steel to emit his own deep warning by my side; their mutts automatically take a step back. There is no question who the alphas are around these parts.
“One.” I take aim and pop one off into the dirt next to them. Sure, I could have kept true to my promise and put it in one of their meth’d out baby dicks, but I honestly don’t want to clean up any more blood than I already have to. Shit is a pain in the ass to get rid of.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” one finally growls, jumping to collar up his bleeding friend. Tweedle-dee finally gets up to shoulder the wobbly Tweedle-dumb from the other side.
“Smart choice. If any of you step foot on my property again, you are gonna have more than me to answer to,” I yell after their retreating forms. They know exactly who I am.
Seeing that they are moving a bit slow for my comfort level, I fire another piece of lead at their heels, adding a spring to their steps to get the fuck off my land. I hate people in general, well, with the exception of my brothers and a few of their old ladies, they are okay. The rest of them can all rot in hell, especially these drugged-out, pond scum kind who dabble in sex trade; they are a special kind of virus plaguing this world. Yeah, my club has been keeping tabs on them but trying to steer clear as long as they stay within their bounds. Disgusting pieces of shit.
Taking in a deep lungful of the cool night air, I catch Steel pawing at the door and vigorously sniffing at the threshold. Well, looks like whatever those assholes were after might just be in my barn. Tightening my grip on my gun, I pop the latch and ease the door open.
Luna
The sound of something sniffing around my ear pulls me from a foggy dream. It had started as another night terror but somehow shifted into a grey, nothingness. Shit, I’ll take that over the demons hell bent on driving me a little bit closer to a permanent state of madness every night. It’s interesting how the dreams and memories work, rarely are they ever complete or make sense. They are mostly terrifying bits and pieces that are difficult to piece together. My eyes blink against the harsh bulb wavering overhead as a furry snout pushes into the hay around my face. The last thing I remember is running into a barn to hide, collapsing in this loose hay pile and haphazardly covering myself before temporarily blacking out. A low whine from the animal is closely followed by a heavy set of boots, a sound that stops my heart dead in my chest. All of the blood drains from my face.
No- they found me!
A large hand comes out of the shadows and brushes the hay off of my face. I should bite it,
scratch it, lash out in some fashion but I haven’t the strength under the raw fright now paralyzing me. They uncovered my location and now I will pay severely for running away. Shit, shit, shit!
My vision sharpens, making out the shadowy form of a man bending toward me. A set of the bluest eyes I have ever seen go large before softening into what could easily be mistaken for compassion. Fucking hell, perhaps this is just another twisted dream. He might just start sprouting horns, a forked tongue slithering out of his mouth as he drags it up the side of my face. Alas, this is all too real as his hand makes to dust away more of the sweet smelling hay. A yelp escapes me and I shrink back further into the scratchy makeshift hole, attempting to disappear. Shit job I’ve done, but whatever.
“It’s okay, I’m not gonna harm ya, darlin’.” His deep southern drawl seems out of place in this backwoods shithole, but the way its tone caresses each syllable like thick honey slightly eases my erratic heart.
Well, I don’t know where in the world “here” actually is, but I’ve never heard a southern accent from the douche bags. My body begins to tremor as the scent of his aftershave hits me. It wasn’t offensive by any means but anything man related is too much, I can’t handle it. His horror stricken face as he takes in my distress makes me want to give some sort of explanation, but I can’t. The stupid ability to form words gets stuck in my throat along with the heavy dust from the barn and hay. My eyes are bugging out of my head. God, I must look like something out of a horror flick, an ugly, swamp crawling creature trying to pass as human. Honestly, I’m not even sure what feeling “human” even means any more.
Winter's Absolution (Obsidian Blades MC Book 1) Page 2