Abducted

by K. I. Lynn

  They all sat empty except for the basic materials my own cell was outfitted with.

  How many girls had sat in those cells, frightened and alone? My chest clenched as I felt their fear as my own. I imagined the weaker ones working themselves up into a panic attack, struggling to breathe.

  What happened to them all? Where were they now? How many were still alive?

  Family and friends devastated by their disappearance, never knowing what happened to them.

  Maybe it was a small comfort that nobody would miss me, because I’d disappeared long ago. Did anyone mourn me? I knew people searched for me, and found me, but was my void even noticeable to them?

  My eyes widened as realization dawned.

  Fuck.

  Mac.

  He had been headed over last night. What had he thought when I wasn’t there? Did he call? Where was my phone now? Did he even know I was missing?

  Did anyone from my current life?

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I straightened my spine as I searched for the source. Hidden in the shadows of a deep alcove, a figure sat so still I barely noticed him. When our eyes met, his head tilted to the side.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked. It wasn’t a question of my fake identity but of my real one.

  “Of course,” he said as he stood.

  A shiver ran through me. He called me Ella, but did he know who I really was? Maybe it wasn’t some random kidnapping. Maybe they knew exactly who they were abducting. The sudden regret that I didn’t take my father’s guards seriously rocked through me.

  As he emerged from the darkness in a fluid motion, I got my first good look at my captor.

  The version in the daylight was just as menacingly beautiful as the one I’d seen the night before—and just as chilling.

  “There are some rules we need to go over, princess, and you will follow them. First is that you do what I say without question, or you will not like the punishment for disobedience. Second, don’t bother screaming. You can scream as loud as you want, but there’s nobody around to hear you. Those few who might won’t lift a finger, because I rule this area.”

  “And just who are you?”

  “I am your god, remember? The third rule I told you yesterday—be a good princess and you get food. Be a brat and you’ll starve.”

  “How long will I be here?”

  “Until the boss says so.”

  “I thought you were the boss?”

  “I am a god to everyone in here, but even gods have a ruler,” he said before leaving me and heading over to a man I hadn’t even noticed.

  He was the leader of everyone in here, but in the end, he was still a henchman. Whoever he was past that, I didn’t know, and he refused to give anything up.

  The sound of laughter caught my attention, and I turned to find a group of men sitting against the wall, cups of coffee in their hands as they spoke. Every once in a while a set of eyes would glance my way, but otherwise my presence was ignored.

  Near them another member appeared from a staircase. As I looked toward the only door in the room, I understood—we were at least one flight up.

  My eyes stung, and there was no way around it. I wiped my fingers as much as I could before pinching my thumb and first finger together and pulled the contacts from my eyes. Once both were out, I blinked and tried to produce some tears to lubricate and clear any debris.

  The green contacts used to cover my natural light brown sat in my hand and I sighed. There was no need for them anymore. Another one of the lies used to hide myself.

  I settled back down to the bed, pulling the blanket tightly around me. As I lay there, I listened closely to every word I could. The bare walls created an echo that made it difficult to make some things out.

  My whole day was spent that way—gathering information, observing, learning.

  More men came, and those who barely noticed my existence were replaced by newbies leering at me. The new group did little to keep their leader’s secret.

  Domenico was the name that floated on hushed tones that echoed around the grand space.

  He was younger than many of the other men. Probably not even thirty, and he didn’t dress the part of a capo in their crisp business attire. Some of the men wore suits, but there were others who didn’t. Domenico appeared more casual, with jeans, boots, and a leather jacket with a hoodie underneath.

  It seemed odd for someone like him to be high up in the rankings. As I looked around, I spotted a few differences in the men. Most were soldiers. Men that had sworn an oath. Men that killed to become made men.

  The ones that came and went with more frequency were associates, constantly being sent out under the soldiers’ orders. They were the grunts hoping to become part of the family.

  Domenico was definitely the capo. The captain of the band of rag-tag men. He directed the soldiers with tasks.

  Maybe he was a new capo and the crew was his first.

  The day wore on with little to no answers to my question of why me. The sun was high in the sky when Domenico appeared in front of me.

  “Eat,” he said as he slipped a paper plate through a slit in the bars.

  I sat still, unmoving, locked on his silver eyes, which were glaring at me. He let out a sigh and opened his hand.

  The plate fell and landed on the ground, food bouncing onto the dirty floor.

  “Ew.”

  “It’s the only food you’ll get today. If you don’t eat it, I’ll take it as a personal insult, and what did I say about brats earlier?”

  A shiver ran through me, which was visible to him.

  “So be a good princess.”

  I flinched when he called me that. The condescending way he said it didn’t raise any alarms that he knew who I really was, but rather it was a degradation highlighting my situation.

  I stared down at the sandwich covered in dirt and dust, my stomach roaring in complaint. How long had it been since I’d eaten anything? My snack after my last set? That was well over twelve hours ago, but my last meal was seven hours before that.

  With great reluctance under his hawk eye, I picked the sandwich up from the ground. My mouth turned down in disgust as I brushed off flecks of darkness from the pale slice.

  “Does it come with a drink?” I asked as I glared up at him.

  His lip twitched up. “Roman,” he said without breaking his stare.

  The man from the night before, the one who’d broken my bonds, stepped forward. He gave me a friendly smile as he drew near.

  “Yeah, Dom?”

  I caught the flex of Domenico’s jaw out of the corner of my eye. “Did you bring the water?” He waited for Roman to give an indication. “Give her a bottle.”

  In my periphery I watched Roman walk across the large expanse, all while keeping my gaze glued to Domenico. It was only a moment later when Roman slipped a bottle through the bars of my cage.

  “Here you go,” Roman said with a smile.

  “Thank you,” I said, once again stunned that I had thanked the man. There was just something about him, a sense of propriety and decency that was out of place.

  I drew in a breath as I eyed my point of sandwich entry and took a large bite. It was a move I instantly regretted. The sandwich was as basic as they came—bologna and mayonnaise.

  I hated mayo.

  Bologna was also not high on my list of edible meats, but my stomach didn’t seem to care and became ravenous for its first food in a day.

  With every bite I stayed strong, never taking my eyes from Domenico. Even when my mouth turned down when I crunched a piece of grit and I wanted to spit the mouthful out, I refused to break our eye contact.

  “You’re a defiant one, aren’t you?” His lips twitched up into a smirk. “The wild ones are the most fun to break.”

  There was a cascade of snickers and whispers of agreement.

  When I finished, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue to show I’d swallowed all of it.

  His lip t
witched up again, but he said nothing before retreating back into his darkness.

  Every hour I took in more of the space, picking up on more of the details: dust and debris from the crumbling walls, chunks of plaster that dropped from the ceiling. The wood plank floors were mostly clear in the areas where they seemed to walk, like someone swept it from time to time.

  There was a table on the far wall with a bunch of folding chairs and one well-worn sofa chair. That was where the men who came and went seemed to congregate.

  What surprised me most was in all the decay, on a broken-down, beat-up wood table sat a black vase with a single pristine red rose. It was so out of place. Shortly after noticing it, I watched as Domenico walked over to it and pulled a single petal. His fingers opened, and the silky red petal floated to the tabletop.

  I stared at the rose, trying to discern the meaning of it. Something about it itched at the back of my mind. The family my father worked for was well known for their use of roses left as calling cards on men they killed.

  Was that who had me? I wanted to yell out to him, to ask him, to tell him who I was, but I stopped myself.

  No. I wouldn’t do it. Not until it was completely necessary. I wasn’t even certain it was them, and telling him would be an admission that I needed protection, help, and I wasn’t going to go begging, crawling back.

  I locked my secret back down and observed.

  Just another runaway.

  I stared up at the ceiling, completely bored and wishing something would happen instead of the nothingness. My stomach was a constant knot as I wondered what they were going to do with me.

  For two days it had been nothing but waiting, and it continued to be so. Food was minimal, entertainment even less so.

  After that first day, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was sitting in reality. I had been taken against my will, but that didn’t mean I was defeated. Far from it. I kept mostly to myself, not engaging in the cat-calls and egging from the animals around me. I stayed focused, continuing on my quest to keep the fear minimal and my mind busy with the task of finding some weakness that would allow me to escape.

  But the awful truth was that there was no way. From the constant guard to the inability to even escape the cage that held me, I was well and truly trapped. There was no way to even maybe loosen the bolts on the door, because someone was always watching.

  Instead, I cataloged information.

  There was almost a constant half-dozen men who came and went. Sometimes there were as many as fifteen, sometimes as few as two. Domenico gave orders, talked about shipments and goods. Guards were assigned, men sent out on shakedowns and errands.

  They all showed great respect when Domenico was speaking, never faltering when he gave an order. When Domenico wasn’t present, a man named Marco directed the men.

  It took me little time to determine that Marco was Domenico’s second. Marco was older, more distinguished, and seemed just as ruthless if need be, with salt-and-pepper hair, lightly lined face, and eyes that seemed to see all.

  When I wasn’t under Domenico’s thumb, I was under Marco’s. I would have preferred it be Roman. He always gave me a smile when he brought me food, and he spoke in soft, reassuring tones as he tried to get me to eat. Roman was able to sneak me another blanket, despite Marco’s scrutiny.

  The blanket was a godsend, and thankfully Marco didn’t take it from me or reprimand Roman, who was so nice and out of place with the rest of the men.

  Roman didn’t belong in such a position, and the wheels began to spin, thinking that maybe I could use him to escape.

  The meager sandwich really was all the food I got every day, but sometime in the evening of the third day, when darkness descended and my stomach growled for more, an angel came.

  “Hey.” Roman appeared behind me, a water bottle tapping me on the shoulder.

  “Hi.”

  He glanced up to the shadowed alcove before reaching into his pocket. “Here,” Roman said as he slipped a Coke between the bars. “I thought you might like it, so I snuck one in.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at him as I took the can, then popped the top. My lips pressed together as I began to salivate. The sweet fizz danced across my tongue and a moan crawled out of my chest. It was the best thing I’d had in days. “So good. Thank you.”

  He beamed back at me. “You’re welcome.”

  My brow furrowed as I looked over toward the alcove. “You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

  “Dom isn’t here and Marco is busy. I’ll just sneak the can back out.” He pulled a granola bar from his pocket and handed it over as well.

  “Why are you being so nice to me? Are you this nice to the other girls?” I asked, hoping to gain some information.

  “I was just assigned to his crew.” He hung his head. “I don’t like hurting people, but my father said I had to learn.”

  “That’s sad.” I reached out and put my hand on his.

  He shrugged and opened his mouth to speak when a voice boomed out. “Away from the girl, Roman.”

  Something flashed in Roman’s eyes and his jaw clenched. He forced a smile and slid his hand from the bars. “I’ll be back later.”

  I nodded and took another long pull from the can, gulping down as much as I could before Roman gently took it from me.

  Marco stood glaring at Roman, his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Just sharing a Coke with a friend,” Roman told him, giving him a flash of the can.

  “She’s a prisoner, not a friend.” I didn’t like the way Marco said prisoner, indicating there was little chance of me getting out. Though I knew the truth—there was no escaping, not without help.

  The evenings turned cold, and a few of the guys pulled in two metal barrels. Soon the warm yellow and orange glow of fire danced around the walls and ceiling. Still, the deep shadows where Domenico perched remained.

  It was hard to tell sometimes if he was there or not. The beast lurking in the shadows.

  The soft glow from his phone sometimes illuminated his features, which remained neutral with the occasional tic of his jaw. I was lost watching him, studying his features, his posture. The scar that tore through his cheek and forehead. What could make such a line? How old was he when he’d gotten it? It was obvious it healed over long ago.

  I started, a jolt of adrenaline racing through my system at the sudden lock of predatory eyes on my own. They didn’t leave mine when he swung his legs down to the ground and stood. His gaze flicked to the men, lost in some football game on a computer that had been brought in.

  Unnoticed, he silently stepped across the dark, dust-covered debris field to the edge of my cage.

  My heart jumped in a staccato beat with each step, and I straightened my spine, my muscles waking up and engaging, poised for whatever was about to happen. It was dark, but my eyes had long ago adjusted to the low light, and with the almost full moon beaming in through the large skylight, I was able to see him with muted clarity.

  “Nobody is looking for you, princess,” he said in a low tone. His voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of gravel. There was something about the way he held himself, the straightness of his posture, the confidence in his gait, which could command a room simply by walking into it.

  “Why would they? No family, no friends, just a fucktoy and a job.”

  He let out a small chuckle, one side of his mouth sliding up. “Which one are you missing most right now?”

  “The fucktoy,” I replied without a thought. It was a stupid response, one that I for some reason thought would show strength. In actuality, it served as proof that I was worth the money someone would pay for a woman who placed sex above her job.

  He nodded and looked back over to the men. “Don’t tell anyone else that.”

  “I’m not ashamed.” Again, the wrong choice of defiance. The man in front of me was not my father. No, the consequences here would be much worse if I ticked him off.

  “Shame has nothing to do with it, but
many will volunteer for the position.”

  “Yourself included?”

  He arched a brow. “Why would I need to volunteer for a position that is already mine? I rule all here, and if I wanted you, you would be mine.”

  If he wanted me.

  I glared up at him. “That’s a hard no.”

  A dark chuckle left him. “You are an interesting creature. Such spirit.” Whatever interest drove him to talk to me ended, and he turned back toward the alcove.

  “Are you going to tell me how long I’ll be here?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to tell me anything?”

  He turned, those silver eyes glowing in the low light. “Why would I?”

  My heart thumped hard in my chest. The conversation was odd. It revealed very little to me—and probably more than I wanted to him. In the end, what I was most confused about was why every nerve lit up with each word from his mouth, each caress of his eyes, while at the same time my insides shook in trepidation.

  It seemed like a simple conversation, but the way he stared at me as he plucked another petal from the rose sent a shiver down my spine.

  Days had passed, and still no information.

  It was a sex-trafficking ring—that much I’d gathered, but why was I the only one? And why was I still there? I listened in to every conversation I could, faking sleep for inside information, but there was nothing.

  Marco was in charge. He said little to me, barely even acknowledging my existence. He directed those who were there and fielded a few phone calls.

  Domenico showed up late in the afternoon, with what looked like a case of sports drink under one arm and a duffel bag in the other. Marco took the case from him, and he passed by, not even looking at me as he headed to the crowd of men who were playing a game of poker. From what I could tell the one named Joey was winning handily, so much that the others were claiming that he was cheating.

  They were right.

  I was as invisible as a piece of furniture to them most of the time. While someone was always watching me, the others leered only from time to time, and I watched as Joey dealt himself one card too many and slipped the extra up his sleeve. It was a move so slick I doubted any of them noticed, but from my lower vantage point, I caught the movement.