Bleeding Hearts: A Dark Captive Romance (Heartbreaker Book 1)

by Stella Hart

  “Yes, sir.” I stood so abruptly that my chair fell backwards. That only made some of the agents snicker more. My face on fire, I dashed out of the room.

  My heart pounded and tears pricked at the backs of my eyes as I went to fetch the coffees. I knew Foley was right to be angry at me. That wasn’t why I was upset right now. I was mad at myself, not for stepping out of line, but for how my body was responding to the humiliation. Wet heat was inexplicably flooding my core, making my knees weak and my hands shake erratically. Now that the initial red-hot shock of the incident had worn off, I realized that some sick little part of me actually enjoyed it.

  Foley was a nasty, unpleasant-looking douchebag, that was for sure, but this tiny, twisted part of my mind was suddenly attracted to him. Attracted to the part of him that enjoyed humiliating me and making me feel bad.

  As fucked up as it was…

  I liked it.

  6

  Alex

  “Pleassshhh. Don’t.”

  I ignored Paul’s slurred gibbering as I adjusted the stereotactic frame around his head. “I’m not hurting you,” I said calmly. “Quite the opposite. At least not anymore. So calm the fuck down.”

  He didn’t try to speak again as I slowly, methodically removed the micro-electrodes from his brain. “See, it doesn’t hurt, does it?” I said. “But it is lucky for you I was telling the truth the other week.”

  “Truth?” he finally muttered.

  I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me from where I was standing behind him. “About what I do. I wasn’t lying when I said I was a pain specialist.”

  Over the last several days, I’d been periodically hooking him up to a little pain stimulation rig I’d developed. It was similar to deep brain stimulation, only it was designed to induce agonizing sensations, not to relieve or treat any medical conditions.

  It entailed exceedingly careful minor neurosurgery to drill into the skull and wire micro-electrodes directly into the brain’s pain centers while the subject was awake. These electrodes could then be stimulated via electrical impulses to force the victim to feel any level of pain I felt like inflicting on them—all without the messiness of causing actual physical damage.

  The brain really is an incredible organ, isn’t it?

  Unfortunately, humans had an incredible knack for getting used to things. As such, I set the device to run on random cycles of pain periods and rest periods. That way, there was no chance for the victim to get used to the torture.

  At worst, the subjects could die from shock, heart failure or brain bleeds while hooked up to the device. To avoid this, I always monitored the situation very carefully, and I had my victims on medications to lower their blood pressure during the torture to prevent this from happening. But it was still a real risk, so I couldn’t use this method for very long. This was just the first stage, after all. I needed them alive.

  “They’ve tested this on animals before, you know,” I went on breezily, though I knew Paul didn’t care. He was too scared about what was going to happen to him next. “The only thing stopping anyone from doing it to people is ethics. As if people, with all their fucked up shit—people like you—are somehow more important. Funny, huh?”

  He mumbled something I didn’t quite catch.

  “Nothing worse than what your own mind can conjure up against you,” I said, breezily, pulling his head free of the frame and laying him down. “Horrific, isn’t it?”

  He stared up at me, his eyes flat. His pupils were blown. I must’ve taken him off the machine just in time.

  “Your heart could’ve given out… but we don’t want that, do we? I did promise you I’d take care of it, didn’t I?” I cocked my head to the side. “Although I lied about one thing—I’m not a cardio specialist. Oops.”

  He swallowed hard. “I know who you are.”

  I smiled. “Oh, really? Congratulations.”

  Those were the most words he’d said to me since I began the neuro-torture, other than ‘Stop!’ ‘No!’ or ‘Please, I’m begging you!’ Fuck, I loved it when they begged. They always claimed at the beginning that they’d never do it. All of them. But in the end, they did. They begged and they pleaded.

  Every. Single. One.

  There was no shame in it. No shame in wanting to stay alive. It was a human instinct to hang on, to claw at every lifeline, wishing and hoping to survive just one more hour. One more minute.

  Still, it was amusing.

  “You’re him. The Heartbreaker.”

  “You finally figured it out. What do you think your prize should be?”

  “I always knew.”

  “Then why haven’t you answered a single one of my questions?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “It’s been five weeks since I brought you here, Paul. At this point, it’s just rude.” I shook my head and tapped his hand, as if chastising a small child.

  “I’ll never tell you anything.”

  I sighed. “Yes, you’ve made that quite clear,” I said. Just like all the others, he’d barely spoken a word, no matter what I did.

  Fortunately, I had a lot more up my sleeve. He thought he’d experienced true terror and pain so far, but it was only the beginning.

  “Are you really a doctor?” Paul asked, his voice ragged. He was trying and failing to sit up now. Too weak.

  I frowned. “Yes. I told you that. Do you think any old person can get away with drilling into your skull and hooking you up to that shit?” I gestured to the discarded electrodes. “It’s fucking neurosurgery, idiot.”

  “I thought you doctors had some sort of code. Do no harm.”

  I gave him an incredulous look, then began to chuckle. “Are you serious? You’re trying to pull that with me? You, of all people. You. With all the harm you’ve done to the world. Christ, Paul. Thanks for giving me a good laugh.”

  The laughing seemed to scare him more than anything else I’d said or done so far. I suppose it made me seem completely unhinged to start chuckling during a situation like this. But fuck, the unintentional irony of his words was literally laughable.

  “Come on.” I roughly grabbed him and dragged him out of the house, into the biting cold. He screamed, but I didn’t care. No one would hear him.

  I bought this place for two main reasons: the relative isolation and the old nuclear fallout shelter on the property. The previous owners had it built sometime during the height of the Cold War hysteria, assuming we’d all be bombed to shit at some point, and the underground shelter made the perfect little prison once it was fitted out with thick metal bars. I had to do the work myself, of course. Didn’t want to attract any attention.

  I pulled Paul across the spacious grounds and down the steps into the shelter, then dragged him toward the left cell—the same place he’d slept in every night for the last five weeks.

  For the first few weeks, I simply left him alone in the cell, refusing to speak a word to him. I left him food and water when he was sleeping, so he didn’t even see my face for at least two weeks. With regular people, this kind of imprisonment alone could be enough to break them. The isolation from the rest of the world, the humiliation of being forced to shit and piss in a bucket, the constant fear of the unknown.

  But Paul… he was different. So were all the others I’d taken so far. It took so much more to break them in the end. Even then, I was lucky if I got more than one name out of them. They were all so fucking loyal to their pathetic cause.

  Paul gasped as he saw what I’d transformed his cell into. The dark gray walls and concrete floor were covered in white plastic sheeting, and in the center of the room was a large wooden trestle table with metal cuffs on each corner. Off to the side was a black toolbox, containing some of my favorite toys.

  “You’re going to kill me now?” Paul’s face went pale with terror, and he tried to fight against my grip as I dragged him toward the table.

  “No.” At least not at this exact moment. I pinned him down on the table and secured his feet down at the end and arms above his
head with the cuffs. He was already too weak to continue struggling. “It’s just time for the next stage.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “My little neuro-stimulation exercises over the last week… that was just the beginning.” I gave him a nasty smile. “A little taste of pain. Don’t want to do too much damage before we’ve really gotten into things, do I? Made that mistake with the first guy. He bled out before I could ask him a single question. Then the second, third and fourth guys… I cut too many pieces off them too soon. Died of shock before I could verify whether the addresses and names they gave me were valid. Of course, they weren’t. Silly me. I was just starting out, though. There’s a real learning curve. They don’t teach you this shit in college, after all.”

  “You’re insane,” he mumbled.

  I looked down at his dirty gray pants. There was a rapidly-expanding wet patch on his left thigh, and some golden droplets were collecting on the table. I sighed. “I’ll have to clean that up later. Can’t believe I forgot to wrap the table.”

  He swallowed thickly. I didn’t really forget to wrap it; I just liked playing this game with them. They always soiled themselves at this point, and my subsequent words magnified the sheer terror they felt. I’ll have to clean it up later. That ensured they knew their hours were finally numbered, because if they weren’t, I’d make them clean their mess up themselves. They knew that.

  “So, Paul,” I said, picking up a knife from my kit. “This is where things start to get serious. I’ve asked you some questions before, and I’ve told you what I know. You’ve always refused to respond.”

  “I told you, I’ll never tell you anything,” he gritted out.

  “Yes, yes.” I waved the knife impatiently. He flinched. “I know all this already. You’d rather die than utter a word that could hurt anyone else in your group. So noble. So brave. Amazing how similarly you’ve all behaved, actually. Barely got a word out of any of you. But I guess it’s not that surprising in a society where you all come up on secrets and lies. Makes it easier to keep you loyal to all the shit. Gotta protect each other, right?”

  He didn’t reply. He simply stared up at me, a mixture of hatred and fear burning in his eyes.

  “Here’s how it is from now on. I’m going to start cutting pieces off you. Nothing big enough to cause your body to go into shock or lose too much blood, but enough to cause pain. The same pain you already felt from the brain stimulation, only this time the stakes are higher for you. Because it’s real physical damage now.”

  He spat at me. “Fuck you.”

  I smiled. “You all say the same thing, but you all give in at the end. How many pieces will it take for you, I wonder?” I traced the blade over his stomach, watching the goosebumps rise on his skin. “The last guy took seventeen. I cut off seventeen little chunks of him before he gave me your name. Strong guy. But he gave in, and that’s what matters. You will too.”

  “I won’t.”

  I held up one palm. “Look, I’m a reasonable guy. I understand none of you want to see the others hurt. So all I’m asking for is one name. One person to rip up next. If you want to cooperate and give me a full set of names and a HQ address, by all means, go ahead. I’ll verify it, and then I’ll make your death as quick and painless as possible as a reward. But if you don’t want to do that, then at least give me one name. It’ll make things go a lot faster and easier for you. I promise.”

  “What if I don’t tell you shit?”

  I shrugged. “Then I’ll keep cutting pieces off you until you finally die. But with the size of the pieces… hmm… it could take weeks before you go. Weeks of burning, slicing agony. I suppose it depends how much you can take. Let’s find out, shall we?”

  I brought the knife down on his inner left triceps, right near his tiny black double circle tattoo—the very mark that confirmed I had the right guy. He screamed and tried to struggle against the cuffs as I sliced out a tiny chunk of flesh.

  There wasn’t even that much blood, but it was enough to make him blubber like a baby. “No! No! I’ll tell you a fucking name. Please!”

  “Really?” I smiled and wiped the bloody blade on a nearby piece of sheeting. “So soon? Wow. You really are a weak, pathetic little man. But I already knew that, I suppose, considering the things you’ve done.”

  “Please,” he whimpered. “I… I can’t take it.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You were happy to take the deep brain-stim pain, even though that was technically much worse. But I get it. Now your body is actually being threatened. It’s a psychological kinda thing, isn’t it? The threat suddenly seems a lot more real when you can see and smell the blood.”

  He nodded, eyes brimming over with tears. I crossed my arms. “Talk.”

  “There’s a young guy,” he said in a ragged voice. “He’s a bodyguard and driver, among other things. Picks the kids up, drops them off. That kind of stuff. Dan Vallone. He’s twenty-eight, lives in South Hills. I swear, I’m not lying.”

  I frowned. “Throwing one of the grunts under the bus, huh? So much for being noble.” I smiled. “But I did promise you things would be easier if you gave me a name, I suppose, as a good behavior reward. I’ll be back soon.”

  I trudged out of the cell and back to the house to verify the existence of a Dan Vallone. It didn’t take too long to find him. Twenty-eight and a resident of South Hills, just as Paul told me. He used to work as a security guard at Paul’s law firm, but then left that job to work a private security gig which inexplicably paid three times the average wage for a security guard. Yes, that sounded right for those guys. Paul was more than likely telling the truth.

  Not quite good enough for me, though. I’d been burned enough in the past to know better. I needed more.

  I grabbed one of my burner phones and took it down into the cell. Paul gazed up at me with fearful eyes. “What’s that for?”

  “I need to confirm that he really works for your organization. I’d hate to take some random guy only to find out he was just a menial worker who had no clue about anything you get up to.”

  “But… I can’t call him. Everyone knows I’m missing by now; it’s been weeks. The cops will be all over it. They’ll track the cell signal or something. They’ll find you.”

  “It’s very sweet that you’re so concerned for my wellbeing, but I already thought of that. We’re going to text him pretending to be someone else from your organization. Someone I didn’t get yet.”

  “Saying what?”

  “Something like: ‘It’s me, checking in. It’s been five weeks since Halston was taken, so he’s probably gone by now. The feds think he was taken by you-know-who, and we think they’re right—we’ve long suspected that he’s targeting us. They cannot find out the real reason under any circumstances. Be careful and let us know immediately if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary.’ If he’s innocent, he’ll have no idea what the fuck the message means, will he? But if he knows what you and your cronies get up to in your spare time, and he helps you with it, he probably won’t think it’s strange. He’ll think it’s just one of you warning him to keep an eye out.”

  Paul’s face paled. I knew what he was thinking. He was recalling how only a few months ago, he got his very own weird, seemingly out of the blue text—the text I got my last victim to send to him to confirm his shady activities. He was dumb enough to fall for it and send a concerned response, and he was a smart guy. If Dan was really involved in their group, he’d fall for it too.

  I held the phone up. “I’ll write the message, obviously, to make sure you don’t try any funny business. I already have Dan’s number from the internet. Young idiots and their social media. Now… let’s see what he says, huh?”

  I tapped out the message, then hit send. We waited for a response in silence, my calm breaths contrasting with Paul’s heavy, labored breathing. The phone finally pinged.

  Dan: We’re all being careful, sir. Don’t worry, no one has any
idea. Is this a new contact number?

  I texted back. No, this is a burner. We don’t want this sort of correspondence to be tracked. Delete this entire message string as soon as you get this. See you soon.

  I tossed the phone aside and looked down at Paul. “Nice little touch there at the end, right? See you soon. Though I probably won’t see him for quite some time. I’m not ready for him yet. Not for another month, at least. Maybe two.”

  I saw a flash of hope enter his eyes. He thought I was giving him some sort of reprieve, letting him live a little longer now that he’d given me some useful information.

  “That doesn’t mean you get to hang around, though,” I said, shaking my head.

  His gaze dimmed again. “But….” Before he could utter another word, I plunged the knife into his chest. He let out an unearthly howl, his cries echoing through the underground rooms.

  “It’s okay, it’ll be quick compared to the others, trust me,” I shouted over the racket. “I promised you earlier. I’m not a complete monster.”

  He kept screaming and screaming. I wasn’t sure if he could even register my words, but I kept talking as I finished slicing his chest open, exposing his heart inside the ribcage.

  “We’re actually not that different, Paul.” I put the knife down and grabbed my bone shears, quickly cracking open the ribs. “We have a darkness somewhere inside us, and that darkness always creeps into our lives eventually. You can’t stop that. And you can’t stop it from getting everywhere.” I moved the knife up and nicked his carotid, calmly watching the blood spurt out in torrents over the plastic sheeting. “But your darkness is worse. Much worse.”

  He didn’t deserve the quick death, but out of all my victims so far, he’d actually been the best-behaved, and he cracked quickly. A promise was a promise.

  “Why… why now? You said… not here… another month….” He somehow managed to choke out the words through the pain and relentless arterial spray. The light was draining fast from his eyes.