Peyton's Path: Fighting Fate Book 2

by SM Olivier

  Fear and defiance waged a battle within. I needed to fight tooth and nail to get out of here. Whether I had to take on both of them or not, I was going to get out of here!

  But I was so tired. I was winded. I couldn’t breathe.

  “My name is Peyton. Not Ava,” I finally said with a hoarse voice I barely recognized. But defiance was evident in my tone.

  The man frowned, then sighed. “I had really hoped we had gotten to you in time, but I see now we that we didn’t.”

  “My name is Peyton Delaney, and I want to go home!” I gritted through clenched teeth. I had read somewhere once, where if you humanized yourself to psychos, it might influence their actions for the good. I hoped. “Who the hell are you, and why did you take me?” Each word was like a razor blade scraping my throat.

  He laughed coldly and tsked at me. “I see we will have to train her, too. It such a shame, because she looks like the closest one yet.”

  “Let me go!” I shrieked, my throat screaming in protest.

  “I don’t want to wait for training to be over,” Principal Boyd whined. “Look how beautiful she is.”

  The man simply glared at Principal Boyd, who cowered back in fear. It was clear who was in charge here.

  My tired, drugged-out mind vaguely realized the man was advancing towards me. He reached out, and I barely had time to register a needle pinching at my neck, before I blacked out once more.

  ●

  My limbs were drawn up tight to my chest. I tried to move but groaned in pain. There was a faint light coming from multiple quarter-inch holes, maybe two feet above my head. I turned my face away and felt rough wood dig into my cheek. The holes surrounded me everywhere I looked.

  Once more, I tried to move but yelped out in pain. My jaw was on fire. I touched it tenderly with my fingertips and winced at the pain, grimacing at the dried vomit still on my skin. The spot was stiff, swollen. Why did my face hurt?

  I reached up towards the light coming from the small holes.

  I’m in a box.

  I pushed with my feet and hands, now realizing I had barely any room to move. Nausea returned suddenly, and I rolled tightly over onto my hands and knees, throwing up once more. Nothing but bile from my stomach, the taste of which burned my raw throat. I was shaking and crying all at once as my belly continued to purge nothing.

  I had been too upset to eat this morning, so all I’d had was a cup of coffee. I had eaten last night at around seven. Well, at least I thought it was last night.

  I began to sob some more when I remembered Golden’s panicked voice right before being drugged and brought here. He must’ve been so terrified, and knowing him, had probably blamed himself.

  But he was so close… I knew it, felt it.

  The guys must be so worried. Paxton would be so vulnerable, but he would continue to act like all was well. Kyler would be in a barely controlled rage. Crew would be pacing the floors and withdrawing into his shell. Lochlann would also feel responsible. He would be blaming himself for not thinking I would ever get abducted in the full light of day. Zane would have organized everything in sight.

  It was my fault that I hadn’t trusted my gut. I did this to them… again.

  And Grandpa. Poor Grandpa! Ava’s disappearance had devastated him. Claire’s abduction had wrecked him.

  When he realizes I’ve been taken, it will destroy him. I prayed this didn’t break him. I wasn’t sure his health and heart could take any more.

  Suddenly, a noise broke through my grief. It sounded like a small voice. I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting the sharp metallic taste of my blood. I tried to take deep breaths in and out, to calm myself. I had to figure out what I’d just heard.

  “Who’s there?” a small defeated voice asked. The sound was muffled through the wooden box and sounded too far away.

  “My name is Peyton Delaney,” I tried to scream through my raw throat. “Who are you?”

  “Peyton?”

  The voice seemed vaguely familiar. “I’m−” I began before a loud scraping noise assaulted my ears. “Claire!” I called out to her, connecting the dots in my head.

  “Shut up, or I’ll tell the dads!” a small boy’s voice yelled before ice cold water gushed into the small holes above me.

  I shivered. Still on my hands and knees, I dropped my head to my chest, waiting for the deluge of water to stop.

  I heard a yelp and then a vicious little laugh from the boy.

  “Time to cook, Mom.”

  I recognized that voice. It was the boy who’d lured me out of the hospital.

  I heard Claire sob out that she was coming. Wait, was she answering to him as ‘mom’? That was impossible. What twisted circumstances had I landed in?

  I felt nauseous once more, but there was nothing for me to purge. How could evil exist in one so young? Moments ago, I could have believed the boy had been forced to help my abductor, but I’d heard the wicked glee in his voice as he talked to Claire.

  There was another loud metallic sound followed by silence. I needed to get out of here! With my hands, I felt around for an opening. I pulled and pushed at the holes. Then I tried to muster all my strength, kicking and pushing with all might at the four walls that surrounded me. Then, rolling onto my back, I began to kick the ceiling of my enclosure.

  Sobbing, shaking, and crying, I felt my energy wane. My heels felt bruised and were probably bleeding. My fingers hurt after having ripped a few nails off to the quick.

  I didn’t know how long I laid there, trying to gain my second wind. My breath came out in a ragged gasp as I realized how fragile I was. Eventually, I heard the loud metallic sound once more. I crouched, ready to make my move. I was so weak, and my limbs were still shaking, but I could never give up. I had to get home. I needed to get back to my guys, Grandpa, and my friends.

  I heard the noise again, but too late. I was crouched in the wrong direction! I barely had time to whirl around to see a man’s knees. I lunged for them, half-way out of the box. I heard a deep chuckle before blinding pain radiated through me as something connected with my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes, and a starburst of colors exploded behind my lids. I gasped out in shock. I barely had time to roll away before a large hand dragged me by the hair and pinned my head down to a cold cement floor. A knee was pressed into my back, making me yelp out in pain once more. Deft fingers wrapped around my neck, and I felt something cold and heavy against my throat, followed by a resounding click.

  “Get up, Ava,” the man from earlier commanded.

  “My name is Peyton Delaney,” I hissed out. “I may look like Ava, but I’m eighteen years old. I’m a high school senior. Ava disappeared years ago. If she were alive today, she would be twenty-seven.”

  Pain like I’d never known struck me in the neck. The electric shock radiated through my body. I was so stunned from the agony that ripped through me so fast and hard, I was unable to even make a sound. My whole body went rigid, and blood filled my mouth as I bit my tongue.

  I heard the cold voice again. “Get up, Ava.”

  It was a shock collar that was affixed to my neck. I reached back, hoping to unclasp it, but it had a padlock fastening it in place. I looked down in dismay to realize that my necklace was no longer on my neck. The rings from Madison and Paxton were no longer adorning my fingers. I was stripped of everything.

  “Screw you.” I spit out the blood gathered in my mouth and splashed his black shoes.

  He knelt beside me then; his cold, ice-blue eyes staring down at me. With his hands, he took my face and squeezed my bruised jaw. I screamed.

  “Come on, Ava, stop fighting it. The sooner you behave and listen, the sooner we’ll treat you like a queen.”

  “My name is Pey−” I began to say, but the same blinding pain debilitated me once more. My bladder involuntarily released, and I peed myself. The sharp smell of ammonia assaulted my nostrils as the warmth trickled down my thighs.

  I sobbed but there were no tears. I had never been s
o humiliated in my whole entire life. Tremors wracked my body so hard my teeth chattered, causing more pain to radiate through my jaw. I had to regroup. I had to rethink this. Maybe if I pretended to follow along obediently, I could gather more intel. I rolled over to my side.

  From this vantage point, I could see that I was in an unfinished basement, of sorts. Spiders weaved their webs in the small windows near the exposed ceiling. Exposed pipes like a maze ran between the rafters. The walls were made of discolored, concrete blocks.

  I spotted the wooden box I had been in, and beside it were two identical boxes. A hose was coiled next to them. The concrete beneath me smelled of mold and mildew, proving the dampness down here.

  The room was nearly empty, save the three wooden boxes, a creepy metal table, a hot water heater, and a new washer and dryer that looked displaced in a room covered by cobwebs, dust, and dirt.

  “Get up, Ava,” he repeated once more. “It’s time to go upstairs. You know it didn’t have to be this way. You could have stayed in your nice room had you just been more cooperative.”

  I ducked my head so that he couldn’t see the hate in my eyes. I thought Sean was a mean sadistic bastard, but this man was on a whole new level of evil.

  My brain was telling my legs to move, but my body was unable to support my weight. My legs gave out on me several times, and I crashed to the floor, enduring more pain. I finally relented—I couldn’t walk. I was forced to crawl across the floor. Bits of stone and other debris dug into my hands and knees as I crawled toward the stairs, finally reaching them.

  He chuckled when I skinned my palms and knees on the first few steps, then laughed when my chin connected with one, causing me to cry out in pain.

  It took me a long time to make my way up the stairs. I was spurred forward by sheer willpower, because my body was threatening to give out. I had been beaten in the past, but this was like nothing I’d ever imagined.

  I was panting by the time I collapsed on the wooden floor at the top of the stairs. The floor was clean and smelled like lemon and disinfectant. I noticed the scuff marks on the floor, and it spoke of many years of use. Unable to lift my head and thoroughly look around, I could only make out kitchen items: cabinets, a refrigerator, a stove, table and chair legs. I also saw feet.

  I jerked my head up and regretted the decision immediately as the room spun, and I blacked out. My mind was willing, but my body was not.

  ●

  The pitter-patter of feet and chairs being scraped back were the first sounds that filtrated through my mind. I commanded myself to open my eyes, to move, crying out silently. But I could barely move. It felt like I’d been hit by a truck, over and over again.

  My brain raced as I realized I was stretched out on my back. Not in the wooden box, not bound. I feigned sleep as I tried to take in my surroundings without cluing in my captors.

  Something sweet permeated the air. I heard the hum of a refrigerator and a clinking sound. It took me a few moments to realize it was the sound of utensils striking plates. Other than that, the room was filled with an eerie silence.

  I peeked through my eyelashes to get a better awareness of my surroundings.

  “Come eat, Ava,” I heard the cold man command.

  “I am eating, sir,” a quiet voice murmured back.

  I heard the scraping of a chair against the wooden floor, followed by footsteps advancing towards me. A small zap went through me, and I cried silently once more. It was as if my vocal cords weren’t able to operate any longer.

  He zapped me again, but unlike last time, the intensity was on a lower level. The previous time must have been a punishment for mouthing off to him. This time it was a warning.

  He’s showing his dominance and control over me.

  “That was a warning Ava,” he replied, confirming my thoughts. “Get up or you will not eat today.”

  He’d left me no choice. I needed to eat. I was painfully weak. I would need my strength if I were to figure out how to get out of here and act on it.

  With stiff limbs, I pushed up off the ground. I could barely move. I felt…broken. Finally, after several attempts, I stood. The first rays of morning light were peeking through the windows. I realized in shock that I must have been left on the floor all night long.

  I shuffled forward, feeling like a much older woman, one who suffered from arthritis. Every bone and muscle in my body screamed in protest.

  I continued my perusal. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were in front of me, along with a door that was too far away. Not that I would have been able to outrun my captor in my condition.

  I stifled a sigh of despair and looked around some more. Knowledge was power, and I had to remember every little detail. The walls were covered in wood paneling, much like the room I’d first woken up in. I surmised that I was in an older, cabin-like home. It was spacious without being considered huge. A brick fireplace sat unlit in the middle of the living room. A brown sofa, loveseat, and a bookcase overflowing with books accompanied it. Everything was clean but dated.

  My eyes finally lit on the dining room table, and I stifled a gasp. The chair at the head of the table was empty, but to the right and left…Boyd and Claire.

  I looked at Claire. She was dressed in a very thin, white nightshirt. A shock collar was affixed to her throat, too. She was staring sightlessly at the bowl in front of her; some kind of oatmeal with fruit; beside her, a full glass of milk. I wanted to call out to her but was unable to do so.

  I nearly tripped over my feet as my mind took in everything. There were ten other chairs, and occupying, eight of them were children. The majority had variations of red hair, but I saw a few children with dark hair. Each one of them ate silently, no sound emerging from them whatsoever, their gazes fixed to the meals in front of them.

  My footsteps faltered as my eyes landed on a pair of vaguely familiar dark heads. Both girls had black braids running down their backs. I didn’t have to see their eyes to know they were a beautiful moss green.

  The front door opened, and my eyes snapped up. I gasped, and a feeling of hope took root when I saw Coach Carson stride into the room. But my slow, exhausted brain froze in horror as more pieces fell into place, my hope quickly replaced with rage and desolation. He wasn’t here to rescue me at all. He was one of my captors.

  I had never consciously cataloged Coach Carson’s looks until now. He wasn’t a bad looking man; in fact, I was sure plenty of females would consider him attractive for an older guy. He was wearing his baby-blue Spartan hat over short light-brown hair. His features were rugged, and his eyes were a beautiful cobalt blue. He wasn’t too tall or too stocky.

  He paused to look at me. A flicker of compassion crossed his features before his eyes shut of all emotion. The fleeting look was enough to make me believe I’d imagined it.

  “Sit, eat.” He pulled a chair out by the foot of the table.

  “You,” I whispered. I wasn’t able to cry like I desperately wanted to.

  He was the one. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

  He’s the one who stalked and kidnapped me.

  ●

  Eight children sat at the table; five girls and three boys. The youngest appeared to be approximately three years old and the oldest around nine. The more I studied them, the more confused I got. There was no doubt in my mind that these three evil men around me had sired a few of them, if not all of them. But where was their mother? Who was their mother?

  A few of the children had the same dark black hair as Tormentor—the name I’d given to the handsome, sadistic man. He seemed to be the one the men at the table deferred to. He had that aura of power and command.

  I immediately spotted the three that must have been his; a five-year-old boy that was the spitting image of him, and the twins, because of their beauty, the shade of dark hair, and the arch of their brows.

  My eyes paused on the wicked little boy. His eyes continued to dart around, and I caught him smirking at me and Claire a few times. His hair was a br
ight red, but he had Boyd’s mouse-like features.

  The youngest boy of three or so, bore a strong family resemblance to Coach Carson, down to the cobalt blue eyes, and even shared the same mannerisms.

  It was the last three kids that caused me to do a double take. Their resemblance between each other was startling. However, their resemblance to me and Claire was unsettling.

  The eldest girl held my attention the longest. It was like staring into a mirror like nine or so years ago. Same hair, same amount of browns, golds, and reds that I had. Her gaze met mine briefly, and I saw the stunned surprise in them, her eyes nearly the same bottle green as mine. She could have been me nine years ago, save for the light spattering of freckles on her nose.

  “Why?” I rasped.

  I was sitting beside Coach Carson now, but he had yet to meet my accusing glare. My belly was gnawing itself with hunger, but I wasn’t able to eat. The act of lifting my plastic spoon to my lips was too difficult, and the betrayal and shock I was feeling made it impossible.

  Coach Carson had stuck up for me. Lochlann and Kyler respected him. Zane and Crew loved him. He hadn’t allowed Dylan back on the team because he had attacked me. Had he been kind to me just to garner trust? He never once approached me or talked to me unless I had walked the guys to the field before practice.

  “We don’t talk at the dining room table,” Tormentor cliped out. “This is your first and last warning.”

  “I have the right to know!” I croaked out.

  “You have no rights.” He glared at me before I felt a zap go through my body once more.

  He had turned the intensity back up. I was so startled, I fell out of my chair. I twitched on the floor, vaguely registering Tormentor crouching next to me.

  “We will save you from your wicked ways, and when you learn your place here, we will show you how much better you are with us,” he hissed at me. “The faster you fall in line and obey us, the easier this will be on you. The more you fight us, the more pain and hurt you will feel.”