Page 1 of The Devils' Darling

Chapter 1

Mackenzie

“Here, pretty kitty, kitty…”

The male voice is distant and muffled, but I can still pick up on its teasing, taunting tone.

I’m in the dark. I don’t know how many hours have passed since I was brought here, but I’m still none the wiser about who’s taken me. Could Paxton have hired some men? It’s not his style, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.

I’ve been curled up in a ball on the cold, metal floor of the cage these animals have put me in. A cage! Like I’m a dog. I push myself to sitting. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed broken glass from having screamed for so long, though it did no good. The chill has worked its way down to my bones, and every muscle aches. I’m grateful for my sweatpants but wish I’d worn something more on top than my tank top. My arms are bare and covered in goosebumps.

From somewhere above, a lock clicks open.

“Here, pretty kitty,” the male voice taunts again.

I freeze, my breath solid in my lungs. The clink of metal on metal reaches my ears—the key to the door, perhaps?

Tink-tink-tink.

A door opens, except it’s set up high in the wall. Light floods into the room, illuminating a wooden staircase that leads down to the concrete floor that my new home—this disgusting cage—is set upon. My eyes water at the sudden intrusion of light, and I turn my head, my hair falling over my face. It’s still slightly damp from where I’d washed it at the spa, so I know I can’t have been missing that long.

I’m sure I can still smell chlorine on my skin from my time in the pool with the guys. I’d showered, but it lingers. I inhale deeply, trying to take myself back to that happy place. What will they be thinking? From their point of view, I’ll have just vanished. Will they believe I’ve simply run? It’s not as though I don’t have a history of doing just that. But things were good between us, finally. We each have our issues, but it felt like we’d managed to put them aside so we could be a unit. My heart aches with longing. I pray they don’t think I’ve abandoned them.

I imagine them thinking I’ve taken too long in the changing rooms, of coming in and trying to find me. How long would it have taken them to realize I’m not there? I try to remember what happened to my phone. Did I drop it? If so, did whoever has snatched me pick it up? I wonder if my location can be traced, but then I remember it’s only a burner. I’ve deliberately made myself untraceable.

I gulp back a sob.

Heavy, slow footsteps land on the stairs. They creak under the man’s weight.

I force myself to take in my surroundings, blinking in the sudden glare. If I’m going to survive this, I need to know my enemy.

Slowly, my eyes grow used to the light, and I’m able to make out the person coming down the stairs. He’s almost at the bottom now. A hood is pulled down over his face, holes cut out for the mouth and eyes, like a man about to rob a bank. He’s big, thick with muscle, a t-shirt stretched across the bulk of his pectorals and biceps.

Who is this man? What did I do to deserve this? There are others, too. I’ve heard their voices and footsteps coming from above.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and draws to a halt. His gaze fixes on me, still shivering, sitting on the bottom of the cage. His eyes are pale—possibly blue, but in this light seem gray and cold, twin pieces of flint.

I tell myself it’s good he’s wearing a mask. He doesn’t want me to see his face, which means he’s worried about me describing him to someone. I can only hope that means they’re not going to kill me and might even be planning to let me go at some point.

The hint of a smile touches his lips. “Hello, Kitty.”

“Who are you?” I try to keep the tremble out of my voice and fail. “What do you want with me?”

“You’re our little pet now.”

He holds something up in one hand and gives it a little shake. That metallic clink sounds again—the noise I’d heard earlier. Is that a…collar? What the actual fuck?

In his other hand is a bowl. A food bowl? I remember spilling water and quickly glance around. There’s a second bowl already in the cage with me. It’s metallic and shiny, and sitting on the floor.

“I brought you something to eat, Kitty,” he says. “I thought that was a good name for a pussy cat.”

Not a dog. A cat.

The inflection on the word “pussy” leaves little to the imagination.

The collar is for me. He’s actually going to put a fucking collar on me.

My future suddenly flashes before my eyes. Is that what I’ve been brought here for? They’re going to collar me, and keep me in this cage, and what? Take turns fucking me, over and over?

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