Abducted

by K. I. Lynn

  I followed Domenico around as he talked to some of them, and I caught the small start of a smile once, which was startling. The scar made him so imposing, especially in combination with the scowl that always seemed to be plastered on his face, but talking with them, he was more relaxed.

  Angular features, fit body, and striking eyes—I was suddenly aware of how attractive he was.

  Odd.

  Very odd. Why would I notice that about the man who had me locked away?

  There was a scramble as yelling and screaming came from the floor below. All the men went on high alert, getting up, and some even grabbing for their guns. Domenico stepped out of the shadows, and a few men stepped in front of him.

  “Shut the fuck up!” someone growled, but the wailing continued.

  “It wasn’t me! I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”

  A man in a crisp dark suit emerged from the floor below, pulling a bound man by the arm. The men relaxed, making it obvious they were familiar with him. The sniveling continued as they awkwardly made their way toward Domenico. I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in the suit, his aura similar to Domenico’s.

  He threw the bound man to the ground, landing him at Domenico’s feet.

  “I didn’t do it, I swear. Please, sir.”

  “I believe you were looking for this,” the man in the suit said.

  “Thank you, Javier,” Domenico said as he motioned to Marco, who pulled an envelope from a case. “Give my thanks to Malcolm.”

  “You owe him.”

  “I know.”

  At that Javier left, leaving the bound man crying and kneeling before Domenico. He glanced in my direction and paused. There was something about him that was familiar.

  “Only one?” Javier asked as he stared at me.

  “Inventory is low right now,” Marco replied.

  Javier stared a beat longer, then was gone.

  “I didn’t…I didn’t…” The sniveling man quivered on the ground.

  Domenico’s eyes narrowed on the man, his body rigid, muscles coiled tight.

  “Oh, but Elio, you did.” Without warning, a wave of energy burst through him and his fist connected with Elio’s face, sending him down to the ground.

  I jumped and pressed back into the bars of my cage. While I’d always felt the alarm of danger in his presence, that he was a beast about to pounce, I hadn’t seen it.

  The men righted Elio, and Domenico pulled a chair over to sit in front of him, his arms resting on his thighs. “You stole. You lied. You sold. Worst of all, you betrayed the family.” Another swing of his fist, another righting of Elio. “The family you swore an oath to. You were a made man.” Domenico pulled a gun from behind him, and my eyes widened.

  My heart slammed in my chest. I may have had ties to the life, but I’d never been witness to what I knew was about to happen.

  Above all, you did not betray the family.

  Without thought, I crawled to the other side of the cage, my chest clenching.

  “Trusted.” Domenico pulled the slide back, loading a round.

  “Please, Dom. It wasn’t me. I swear.”

  “Do you think I execute with no evidence?” he sneered. “I don’t take this task lightly, Elio. You were one of my most trusted, but you got greedy.” Domenico’s eyes seemed to glow as he held the gun in front of him. “And greed is a sin I can’t abide.”

  Three loud booms fired off, and I felt a fine mist on my skin. Elio slumped to the ground, blood spilling from his chest.

  A ragged breath left me, and I glanced down to my hands, my breath speeding up at the red droplets that clashed against my skin. My eyes widened, and I turned back to the gruesome scene in front of me and the lifeless body lying not ten feet from me.

  “Fuck,” Domenico hissed. “Clean this up. I don’t want anything left.”

  “The river?” one of the men asked.

  Domenico shook his head. “Leave him on his porch with a rose. Remind his wife what is on the line.”

  Again with a rose? Knowing what I knew about my father’s world… knowing that a rose was the calling card of the family my father worked for, I was sure my suspicions were correct.

  “What about the cops?”

  “She knows if she wants to live she knows nothing. And I want every trace gone, including every droplet that hit her.” He pointed to me. “Scrub everything.”

  Marco watched the men as he stood at Domenico’s side. “I told Javier to bring him here.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I know you don’t like doing that here.”

  “Because it makes a fucking mess.”

  “And it usually riles the girls up.” Marco looked at me, but I was still sitting in shock. “She’s shaking.”

  “Send Roman to get her some food.”

  They spoke as if I wasn’t there, as if I wasn’t staring at them, but I couldn’t look away. I was trapped, locked onto the man who was intimidating every moment he was in the building.

  I’d just watched him kill a man with a casual ease. It wasn’t his first, nor his second. No, Domenico had long ago made his first kill.

  Marco nodded and headed off while Domenico disappeared into the shadows but reappeared a few seconds later. He headed toward me with two bottles in his hand.

  “Drink this,” he ordered, pushing a bottle of Powerade through the bars.

  I stared at him, unable to move, unable to think of anything other than the man he’d shot. It shouldn’t have fazed me. I knew the sort of people who held me, but I’d never watched someone be killed before.

  He blew out a huff of air in aggravation before pulling keys from his pocket and opening my cell. “Don’t even fucking think of trying anything unless you want me to hurt you.”

  Like I could if I wanted to. Real fear had me in its clutches for the first time. The reality of where I was finally sank in. He stood in front of me, and the shaking kicked up another notch. Another huff with a roll of his eyes and he squatted down in front of me, setting the other bottle down and twisting the top from the Powerade.

  “Drink this, or I’ll make you drink it.”

  I stared at the bottle, unable to respond. For some reason I couldn’t shake it off. I’d been stupid to think that my fate was so far from Elio’s.

  Ella Delgado was a nobody who wouldn’t be missed if she were killed or sold as a sex slave.

  Fire burned my skin, and I drew in a hissing breath of surprise. Domenico’s hand rested on my neck, thumb moving across my jaw, tilting my head back.

  I was frozen in a completely new way when our eyes met. The eyes that always seemed to glow captured me with their clarity and seemingly never-ending depth.

  He gave nothing away.

  Cradling my head in his hand, he pulled on my chin with his thumb, parting my lips. I blinked, thinking he was going to pour the liquid into my mouth.

  A heartbeat, then another passed as our eyes locked before he took a swig from the bottle and pressed his lips to mine.

  A splash of liquid filled my mouth, and his eyes stared deep into mine as his hand moved down my neck, coercing me to swallow. It was strangely erotic. Warmth spread slowly from his touch, like the sun melting ice crystals.

  I stretched up toward him, trying to get more of the warmth, but he pulled back.

  Those silver eyes swirled with fire.

  “How’s she look?” Marco asked from the doorway, a plate in his hand.

  The fire quickly died, and Domenico took the plate. “She’ll be fine. Get her a bath.”

  Marco nodded and stepped away, leaving us alone again, but the heat from Domenico had faded away, replaced by the cold.

  “Eat and drink. Now.”

  I nodded and brushed away a tear when he slammed the metal bars closed again and turned the lock.

  I needed to find a way out.

  I needed out.

  I need out!

  In all my life, I never envisioned I would ever be in the predicament that I found mys
elf in—taking a sponge bath, in an open cell, in an open room, in front of ten men, half of whom were watching.

  Still, it felt good to get the blood and grime off me. However, a bucket of warm water wasn’t enough, especially when returning to the same clothes I’d been wearing for days. The warmth leached away, the cold air cooling the water quickly. A shiver moved through me, and I pulled my clothes back on, trying not to give them a show. The days of showing off my body were over the moment they cornered me on that bridge.

  My eyes locked onto the splatter of blood dried into a deep red and clashing against the yellow of my sweater.

  A lackey, some young, thin guy about my age, opened the door to my cage to retrieve the bucket. I blinked, saw nobody in my periphery, and shot up.

  I bolted, knocking the guy over and sprinting toward the door. My muscles hadn’t been used much for days, causing them to seize, but I pushed through, my goal in sight.

  It was a spontaneous, desperate maneuver, and it was working.

  Feet from fresh air, a hard body collided with mine. Strong arms wrapped around me, a hand holding on to the back of my head as we tumbled to the ground in a heap.

  By the time we stopped rolling, I was flat on my back, the strong scent of spice invading my senses. The warmth of another person soothed me, if only for a moment, and I reveled in the heat.

  For a fraction of a second I felt safe—then the rush of cold fear flooded through my system. The tail end of a scar caught my eye, and the warmth left. I was caged in the arms of the monster, the leader of death’s disciples. A minute tilt of his head and our eyes met. For a brief heartbeat something sparked inside me. His gaze moved to my lips before a flash of anger enveloped his features.

  He mashed his teeth together as he pushed off the ground, and his grip hard on my arm as he tugged me up from the floor. His hand wrapped tightly around my neck as he pulled me close, his lips curled up into a snarl, his glare scaring even Death himself.

  “Do you not remember the rules, princess?” he sneered.

  My nails dug into his arm before swinging up and swiping at his face. A growl erupted from deep in his chest, unfazed by the light trails of blood slowly seeping from the fresh slices on his cheek.

  “No food it is.” He pushed me away and into the waiting arms of multiple men. “Put her back.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Marco grumbled before throwing me in the cage, down to the floor and the dirty surroundings.

  “N-no!” I cried out as I scrambled for the door before it latched. Cold eyes glared at me, his chest heaving. He was angry, furious, and I crumbled inside. My chest heaved as a sob rose with the clang of metal on metal. For days I’d kept the fear, the despair, down to a vibration below the surface, but the dam was broken.

  “If this continues I can introduce you to my Russian friends, the Volkovs,” Domenico growled. “Their favorite thing is breaking a woman until she’s nothing but a cock sleeve.”

  The smallest taste of freedom on my tongue, but I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to get away. The lack of food kept me from having much energy, and the cell left little room to move.

  I fell down on the bed, my tears dripping onto the gross mattress as I curled in on myself.

  Everything about my situation was wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I shouldn’t have been there, but I was.

  Trapped in a nightmare with a devil king.

  I couldn’t shake the fear after my near escape. The floodgates opened up, and I couldn’t seem to contain the bone-deep uncertainty that infested every thought.

  I could still feel the warmth of his arms around me, the buzzing in my veins at his touch. And that was more frightening than my situation. Maybe I was touch deprived—that could be the only explanation why his tackle had felt like so much more.

  One thing became clear—I had to keep my strength up. I was losing muscle mass every day, from both the lack of calories and the lack of movement. Perhaps that was their strategy—keep the girls weak so they couldn’t fight back.

  But I wasn’t most girls, and I refused to let the fear and desolation take me.

  It didn’t mean I wasn’t frightened, because I was, but I wasn’t going to let that infest every part of me. I still had a card I could play if it came to it, but I prayed I wouldn’t have to. Which fate was worse was still up for debate.

  I grabbed hold of the bars that made up the ceiling of my cage and pulled my knees up, letting my body hang for a second, stretching out stiff muscles. Once my shoulders released the tension they were holding, I pulled my knees up to my chest, then with my arms hoisted my body up to the bars.

  Slowly I released back down, then repeated nine more times. Then I moved to squats and sidekicks. Yoga stretches and poses—anything to help keep my body limber.

  They were all exercises I was familiar with, as I did them nearly every day. They were how I kept fit for the pole—and for the need to run, if it arose.

  Every movement was a spectacle for my unwanted audience, but I shut them out and focused on my breathing. It wasn’t for them—it was for me.

  It was all I had to keep me busy, but I often couldn’t get through very much before fatigue settled in.

  “Why am I here?” I asked, knowing I would receive no answer. It wasn’t the first time, and it wasn’t likely to be the last.

  Men came and went through the space, some sitting at a nearby table playing cards while talking trash. A quick flick of their gaze, a lingering flash of hungry eyes, and more than one man came by the cage to leer at me while grabbing his crotch. There were conspiratorial glances and wayward conversations in hushed tones.

  Even with all the movement around me, all the people, I was just a spectacle. I suddenly understood how animals at the zoo felt.

  Every breath I took, every movement I made, someone was watching. I avoided going to the bathroom as much as possible because it drew in the truly depraved.

  And that brought the panther out from his perch.

  That was what Domenico reminded me of. Lithe, strong, and watchful, ready to strike—and strike he did.

  The sound of water splashing hit me before the strong smell of urine invaded my nose. A menacing laugh sounded from a slug of a man who took pleasure in my discomfort. He had his dick out and was pissing on the floor next to my bed. He was young, maybe my age or a few years younger, with unkempt dark hair, crooked teeth, and dark eyes.

  I had to force down the shiver from the sickening look he was giving me. It was one I’d had aimed at me before, but back then I was on stage and holding all the control. I had no control and no recourse anymore.

  Before he finished Domenico emerged, grabbed the slug by the neck, and threw him to the ground.

  “Don’t try and mark what isn’t fucking yours,” Domenico growled.

  “She ain’t yours either,” the slug spat as he jumped back up to his feet, glaring at Domenico.

  Domenico stepped forward and swung his fist with such speed and force that the slug didn’t even have time to process what was happening before he was slammed back to the ground. It was the same swiftness I’d seen with the man he’d executed.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he asked to nobody in particular before landing a swift kick square in the slug’s ribs.

  The slug howled in pain, gasping for breath. None spoke up, but a crowd began to gather.

  “You think you can just piss in here like some fucking animal?” Domenico grabbed him by the shirt and hoisted him up, only to slam him into a pillar. The slug turned around, only to be met with Domenico’s fist again.

  “He is an associate sent from Jax’s crew,” someone finally spoke up.

  “Seems Jax needs to teach his shits some fucking manners and what a fucking toilet is,” Domenico said before slamming his other fist into the slug’s face.

  The crowd watched with rapt attention, their bloodthirsty cheers gaining volume. Many of them thrived on the carnage, while I vibrated with anxiety. An out-of-contr
ol mob of men with no fear of the law or much respect for rules was worrisome. Domenico always reined them in, but did he have enough presence to stop them?

  When the bloodied mess of a man slumped down to the floor, I had my answer. Cries for blood became cheers of victory. The victor stood in the middle, blood dripping from his fists, and when he moved forward, the crowd parted, giving him a wide berth.

  He squatted down beside my cage and scratched at his chin. It was the closest his face had been to mine in both the daylight and when I wasn’t frozen in fear, and I saw for the first time the depth of the scar that marked his face. With something that deep, there had to be issues, like nerve damage. I studied his features, the way the right side of his mouth failed to draw out as far as the left of his cruel smile.

  “See something you like, princess?”

  My gaze narrowed on him. “I see something I’d like to give a nice kick in the junk.”

  His eyes never left mine. “Marco.”

  My brow scrunched and Marco stepped forward, picked up his knee, and slammed his foot down hard onto the slug’s crotch. There were sympathetic groans of pain along with the high-pitched cries of possible damaged goods.

  “That wasn’t what I was talking about.”

  “That’s all you’re going to get. The closest you’ll get to my junk is down on your knees when you’re swallowing my cock.”

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  The movement of his hand was so swift that I had no time to pull away before his fingers wrapped around my throat and tugged me to the cold metal of the bars.

  “Don’t tempt me, princess.”

  He released me with a shove, and I fell back, my hands reaching out to brace my fall.

  “Piece of shit,” Domenico called out and waited for a response.

  There was none—then Marco’s leg swung out and impacted with the slug again. “You answer when the boss is talking, roadkill.”

  “Fucking shit, man! She’s just another bitch to sell.”