Mistaken Hero (Retribution Games Book 1)

by Ella Miles

  If I ever get out of here, that’s going to change. I’m taking every self-defense and weapons training class I can find. I won’t be weak ever again. I won’t have to sit around and wait for a man to save me.

  I must fall asleep because when I open my eyes, we’re parked at what looks to be a cabin in the woods near a lake.

  “Get out, whore,” a man says as he throws open my door and grabs my bicep, not giving me any time to comprehend what’s happening.

  “You could ask nicely; no need to call me names.”

  He snickers. “Why? That’s what you are—a dirty whore. Don’t think we didn’t notice how those men protected you. You must be sucking all of their dicks to get protection like that.”

  I roll my eyes as the man with a twisted front tooth, hairy arms, and a broad chest walks me up the three steps to the cabin door. If only Beckett and his men were protecting me because they cared about me and not because I’m the only clue to finding Odette. Hairy arms here must have missed the part where they drugged me, tied me up, and threatened me in the middle of nowhere. Beckett and his guys might want to fuck me, but they don’t care about me. And why should they? They don’t even know me.

  So why did you offer yourself up to save Caius’s life?

  Because then he’ll owe me.

  The man pounds on the door, and only then do I realize he’s not in charge. I don’t think any of the men who kidnapped me are.

  The door opens. “You succeeded.”

  “Your princess, as requested.” He shoves me inside, and I stumble, almost falling flat on my face. A pair of strong hands catches me from falling face-first onto the wooden floor.

  Slowly, I look up and meet his cruel eyes, instantly realizing I’ve made a terrible mistake. I should have let Caius die. Whatever this stranger has planned for me, I won’t survive it.

  He glowers, licking his bottom lip like I’m a meal he plans on devouring.

  “Good job, Eric, I can take it from here.” His eyes twinkle with disgusting thoughts as his eyes plainly roam my body. This man is easily two decades older than me. He has crow’s feet around his eyes, several gray hairs in his medium brown hair, and faded tattoos all over his body. He’s fit, but not as fit as the guys. I’m guessing he’s the kind of leader who sits back and lets his men do all of the dirty work.

  “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He grabs my hair, fisting it in a ponytail and yanking on my head.

  I grit my teeth to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing me groan in pain. He drags me through the small cabin that seems to be empty except for the two of us.

  “Your organization must suck if this is all you can afford.”

  He stops suddenly, and my head rams into his ass before I can stop my forward momentum. He yanks my head up until he’s breathing hot vile breath against my lips.

  “You think those boys are going to save you? I have two decades of experience on them. There is a reason we are in a cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere and not in my mansion near the city. They’ll come for you. You’re a pretty plaything, and men don’t like to share their playthings with others.” One of his hands runs down my cheek, and I try to bite it off.

  He grins. “But know this—they’ll be too late when they finally come.”

  “So you plan on killing me?”

  He tilts his head as his smile reaches his eyes. “Now, why would I do that when you are so much more useful to me alive?”

  “I don’t understand. If you aren’t going to kill me, it will never be too late to save me.”

  He shakes his head. “Your father taught you so little. When I marry you, it will be too late. You’ll be mine. I’ll own you. I’ll have the power of not only my men but your father’s men behind me too. Your boys won’t stand a chance.”

  I laugh. “All of you are fucking insane if you think my father will form an alliance with you just because you married me. My father hates me. He’s been trying to sell me off since my eighteenth birthday. All he wants is money and power. He won’t give you any of it just because you make yourself my husband.”

  He grabs my chin with a wicked snicker. “Your father really didn’t tell you, did he?”

  I swallow hard as I feel my pulse in my throat. What didn’t my father tell me? He told me nothing except that he would choose my husband. This man isn’t the man my father chose. These men can fight over me all they want, but I will never consent to marry any of them. And more importantly to me, my father won’t consent either. Even if I legally marry another man, my father will make sure the marriage is never valid. That’s how much power he has. So as much as I’d love to choose the man I marry, I can’t.

  “I’ll never marry you.”

  He smashes his lips over mine.

  I fight. My arms struggle to get free from the rope behind me, but it just digs tighter into my wrists. I try to pull my head back, but his hand is wrapped around the back of my head. I want to open my lips to bite down on his and make him bleed, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth, his tongue will slither its way in. So I keep my lips squeezed closed; that is until he punches me in the gut.

  I exhale a sharp breath as my lungs burn for air. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue deep into my throat before I catch my breath. I try to bite down, but his hand on my jaw keeps it open.

  “You’ll marry me, Princess.”

  “I won’t. There is nothing you can threaten me with. There is no one that I love. And I know you won’t kill me. You can’t if you want my father to align with you.”

  “Everyone has someone they love, even if they don’t realize it. I’ll find your weakness. You love yourself, if not someone else. I may not kill you, but I can make your life a living hell. You may think you can handle torture, but I doubt you can withstand much pain. You’ll cave before the night is out.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Paxton Cook, leader of Mayhem.”

  If I had been taught anything about the world I live in, then maybe his name would mean something to me. But since my father left me a fool, I don’t know how seriously to take his threats.

  “Come now, Rialta; it’s time to get ready. We have a wedding we don’t want to be late for.”

  He once again grabs my hair and pulls me forward. I move my feet quickly to keep him from tearing my hair out. He drags me into the bedroom, kicks the door shut, and then releases me.

  I stand up cautiously as I look around the room. There is a queen-sized bed with a multi-colored quilt as the comforter, a deer head hanging over the bed, and a bible lying on the table in the corner. I suspect that this property doesn’t belong to Paxton.

  I scan to see an open bathroom door, and then my breath whooshes out of me as I see a big, puffy white dress hanging in front of the closet door.

  Holy hell, he really does think I’ll marry him.

  “You might as well just forge the papers now, because I’ll never marry you. No need to pretend by forcing me into a dress. It’s not happening.”

  “Now, who would believe I married the mafia princess while she was wearing some other guy’s sweatshirt? We have to do this properly for it to be believed.”

  “No one will believe I married you.”

  “They will. Because by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be begging to become my wife.” He casually struts past me and enters the bathroom, leaving me alone in the bedroom.

  I run to the door and then turn around so my still bound hands can open the door. The door falls open, and I tumble out with it.

  “Where are you going, Princess?” the hairy armed man from before says, looking down at me with a rotten smile.

  He grabs my bicep and yanks me up. “You’re not allowed to leave this room until you are dressed. If you come out again before you’re dressed, I’ll shoot you.” He shoves me back into the room. I fall on my ass as he slams the door in my face.

  Shit.

  I push myself back to my feet to try the window. But when I reach it, I
see the dozens of men pacing outside.

  Fuck!

  I’m trapped. There is no way I can escape that many men. I’m not even sure Beckett’s guys are going to be able to defeat so many.

  “Rialta, it’s time for your bath,” Paxton’s voice carries through the open door of the bathroom. It’s then that I hear the running water.

  A shiver runs down my spine, and my legs tremble. I understand now what he meant about the boys not being able to save me.

  Paxton emerges from the bathroom.

  I keep the fear away from my face and out of my voice. “Untie me so I can bathe.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll untie you when you consent to being my wife. Although, I may have to fuck you tied up first.”

  I cringe. I can’t hide my disgust, which only pleases him. This man is a sadist. He gets off on torturing others. He’s not like others that just want the power.

  He prowls toward me. I take a step back between the bed and the window. I keep walking back, stalling, trying to look for a weapon I can use. But even if I find a knife or a gun in the nightstand that I eventually bump into, it’s not much use to me with my arms tied behind my back.

  Fucking Beckett. If it wasn’t for him, my arms wouldn’t be tied behind my back, and maybe I’d be able to defend myself.

  Paxton stops as I’m backed into the corner of the room. “I’m curious; what are you planning on doing now? You have no weapon, no escape. Corsi may be smart, but he raised a fool for a daughter.”

  I can’t argue with that. I’m a fool for ever thinking I could run from my fate.

  He grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom. At least he didn’t grab my hair this time.

  The bathroom is small. It has an oval-shaped metal tub, a toilet, and a sink. There’s no window in here, no escape.

  Paxton reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt, and I wonder how he’s going to take it off with my hands tied behind me. He pulls it over my head, then spins me around. I suck in a sharp breath as a knife slices into the sweatshirt and then grazes my skin.

  “Oops, did I hit too deep?”

  “Asshole,” I mumble under my breath.

  He chuckles. “You’re a fool with a smart mouth that’s going to get you killed someday. I may be your husband by the end of the night, but I won’t be rescuing you when you inevitably get yourself in trouble. You’ll do well to remember that and keep your mouth shut if you want to survive.”

  “What if I don’t want to survive? What if I want to die and bring you down with me?”

  He rips the sweatshirt from my body until I’m standing in a bra and boxer shorts, my arms still tied behind my back. His hand brushes my side across the piece of gauze over my wound. He handles me roughly, wanting me to prove him right—that I do want to live. That I can’t handle pain and torture. I don’t allow my body to react to his painful touch.

  His hands grip my boobs through my bra, and I flinch, trying to jerk out of his grasp. He lets me with a loud snicker. “You want to live. You want to survive. You’re just like every other creature on earth that wants to avoid pain. When the time comes, you’ll be saying ‘I do’ to me to avoid torture. If you want me to fuck you quickly to consummate our marriage, I suggest you go along with my plans.”

  Paxton has found my weakness. I don’t mind physical pain, but to be raped and violated is different. It’s something I’ll avoid at all costs.

  “Now, turn back around.”

  Slowly, I do as I’m told without mouthing off again. Pulsing anxiety spreads through my body like wildfire as I realize what trading my life for Caius’s really meant. The guys may eventually save me, not because they care about me but because of Odette.

  But when they do, it could be too late—not too late to reverse the marriage, rather too late to save my soul. I’ll be lost if he rapes me. Some women come back from being violated, but I’d rather die.

  His hands grip my boxers and panties beneath them. He slides them down over my hips until they fall free to the floor.

  I hold my breath, trying to keep the panic at bay as I feel his hands at my back, undoing my bra and then slicing through the shoulder straps with his knife. My eyes bulge in horror as I watch my bra fall to the floor.

  I’m not ashamed of my body. I like how I look, and being practically naked in front of Caius or Beckett wasn’t a problem. I enjoyed the attention, but I don’t want to feel Paxton’s eyes on me.

  “Get in the bath.”

  My shoulders shudder. He’s looking at my back, but once I climb in the tub, he’ll be able to see everything.

  His hands are on my hips, and he starts sliding them up toward my breasts again. I jump out of my skin, trying to clamber into the tub, causing me to make a huge splash as my body lands awkwardly in the water.

  His vicious laugh rings in my ears, and I feel my tears welling.

  You’re stronger than this. You always knew your body would be sold to a man one day. This won’t break you.

  I replay those words in my head, while refusing to look at Paxton. But I don’t need to see him to feel the heat of his eyes on me like a peeping tom. I can’t move with my arms tied behind my back. The water causes the rope to rub more roughly against my wrists, so every movement burns. I glance down at my side and am surprised that my side doesn’t hurt from getting wet. Soaking in the tub can’t be good for my stitches, but surprisingly it doesn’t sting. Maybe the drugs are still numbing me?

  Paxton grabs the bottle of shampoo next to the tub, squirts some on my hair, and then starts massaging my scalp.

  I clench my teeth together and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s just touching my hair, and already my body feels like it’s on fire.

  Just pretend you’re at the beauty salon. It’s nice that someone else is washing your hair. Jan is washing your hair, not this sick prick.

  “You have such beautiful hair and an even more beautiful body. No wonder your father keeps you locked away. Men would fight to the death to have you.”

  “You’re going to die whether you have me or not.”

  Water crashes over my face as he dunks me under the water. I wasn’t expecting it, so some of the water goes up my nose. A few seconds later, he lets me up.

  I cough up water as my head resurfaces.

  He grabs my chin and turns it toward me. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you, Princess. But know this—you’re mine now, and I don’t plan on dying for a long, long time.”

  He dunks me under water again. This time, I’m ready. I surrender to the feeling of the water as an escape from him. When he pulls me back up, it’s too soon. I’d rather stay under the water.

  He grabs the bar of soap next, and my body seizes. He starts at my shoulders and works down to my chest. His eyes darken, and drool pools at the corners of his mouth as he rubs the bar over my breasts and nipples. His hand slides hungrily down my stomach and between my legs.

  A tear rolls down my cheek, but otherwise, I don’t let the fear in. Paxton is a dead man. I’ll kill him for this. And if he violates me more, I’ll get him back for everything he does first, and then I’ll kill him.

  The sick fucker takes his time mainly washing my breasts and between my legs. Apparently, my arms and legs don’t need washing. When he’s finished, he grabs my bicep and pulls me up before wrapping a towel around my body.

  “Did you hire anyone to do my hair and makeup?” I ask, hoping now that he’s touched my body, he’ll leave me alone to get dressed and have my hair and makeup done. It will give me time to figure out how to kill him. I won’t leave here alive unless the guys find a way to save me, but I can ensure Paxton dies.

  “And why would I do that?”

  “You know how to do hair and makeup?”

  “I’m the groom, and I know what I like. Since my opinion is all that matters, I’ll be the one doing your hair and makeup.”

  “Oh, it’s because you’re poor and don’t have any money. That’s why you’re doing this.”

  Slap.

  My h
ead whips to the side. My nostrils flare as I breathe deeply and angrily, turning my head back to face him.

  “Watch your mouth…or don’t.” He shrugs.

  He pulls me out of the tub and then begins drying me with the towel, once again paying special attention to my boobs and pussy. I bite my tongue the entire time to keep from saying something that will get me slapped again.

  He walks me back to the bedroom and tells me to sit on the edge of the bed. I do, trying my best not to shiver, still completely naked. He enters the bathroom and comes back with a blow dryer.

  He blow-dries my hair straight and then surprisingly is able to apply a good amount of makeup to my face. It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t naked, my cheeks weren’t flush, my skin wasn’t crawling, and my blood pressure wasn’t spiking to dangerous levels. He finishes my hair and tops my head with a tiara.

  “Time to get dressed.”

  He walks over to the closet, where a very large fluffy white dress hangs. It’s the opposite of a dress I would choose for my wedding. It’s a complete princess dress, and despite what everyone calls me, I’m not a princess. If I were to ever want to get married, I’d probably wear black or red, anything but traditional virgin white.

  He pulls the dress off the hanger and walks over to me. It’s a strapless dress, so he won’t have to remove the rope tying my hands together.

  I sigh.

  He holds the dress out for me to step into. I guess I don’t get to wear underwear or a bra. I step into the tent of a dress, and then he pulls it up. He circles behind me so he can zip it up.

  “Beautiful.”

  My eyes water.

  “Now, don’t go crying on me and ruin my masterpiece.”

  I growl.

  He snickers; his eyes are roaming over every inch of my body like I already belong to him.

  “I’m going to go change, and then we can get married. There are guards outside your door. Don’t try anything, and don’t ruin my work.” He walks to the door and pauses.

  “Or maybe do.” He winks sadistically at me.

  I continue biting my tongue so hard that it bleeds as I watch him finally leave me alone.