Page 16 of Under His Heel: A Kidnapping

“The gang leader. Whoever it was doing the torture,” Tracht paused. “I would appreciate them subdued, but alive. I have a few words I would like to exchange with them.”

“Are they going to be alive when you’re done with them?” Anja Nilsen asked. “Because I can think of a few fun things I’d like to do…”

“I’m not in the habit of murder, no.” Tracht smiled sharply at her. “I’ll make sure to leave you the sloppy seconds.”

Anja Nilsen laughed loudly. “Thanks. I think the two of us could be friends, Johannes.”

“Tracht, if you please,” Tracht corrected her.

That made her laugh all the more, because they both knew he couldn’t stop her from calling him whatever she wanted, especially not here. She had the advantage in spades.

It was unsettling, but Tracht found he preferred that mild feeling of discomfort to the burning anger that threatened to overwhelm him if he thought about what had been done to Alex.

Finally, Erik Nilsen received a call from whatever subordinates they had sent out to do their dirty work. They all got out of the vehicle, Peter Nilsen leading the way to their target.

The warehouse had a row of offices along one side, and here several large people armed with stun batons lingered. Two men were tied up near the exit.

“Four in total, Boss,” one underling said, addressing Anja Nilsen. “We got the other two in separate rooms, like you said. The woman put up a real fight.”

“She would,” Anja Nilsen murmured. “She’s the leader of a professional saboteur team. Came in a few weeks ago.” She looked over her shoulder at Tracht. “You should probably tell your brother-in-law his current business acquisition isn’t all that popular.”

Probably. Tracht didn’t particularly care at the moment. “Where’s Alex?”

When the underling frowned, Peter Nilsen piped up with, “Scarface.”

“Oh! Uh, in the large office on the corner.”

Rushing wasn’t a good idea. It would give away his emotions. It would show Anja Nilsen just how important Alex was to him. She would have more on him, another hook—

He doubled his stride and went into the room.

==

Alex was still tied to the chair. His beautiful hair was matted and messy, his mouth a mess of blood and spit and cotton.

Tracht closed the distance between them and laid a hand on Alex’s head.

Alex flinched.

It had been months since Alex had flinched away from Tracht. Even when Tracht gave Alex pain, Alex took it beautifully. When Tracht gave him pleasure, Alex drank it up greedily, and his devotion shone in his eyes.

There was nothing in Alex’s eyes now.

Tracht let go and clenched his fists. He didn’t like how he was feeling. He didn’t like the worry and the rage, intertwining into another unfamiliar combination. How ironic that it was Alex who’d brought so many damned emotions to Tracht.

He pressed a kiss to Alex’s forehead, and here Alex blinked and moved his mouth, but he made no sound, gave no sign that he acknowledged that it was Tracht touching him.

Tracht heard Johan’s whimper, and that reminded him that his nephew was there too. The brat was tied to a chair in the corner, blindfolded and gagged. Tracht let go of Alex and turned to face his nephew.

Aside from the little, inconsequential cut on his face, he was perfectly fine. He was fine, and he was crying and whimpering, while Alex was a mere shell of himself.

That low-level resentment he felt towards all of Anna’s children flared up again full force. He knew it wasn’t Johan’s fault, but if he hadn’t been there—if Johan hadn’t been there, if Anna and Vasilis hadn’t felt the need to procreate, if the kidnappers had simply chosen a different event for their plans—then Alex wouldn’t have been caught in this situation.

Tracht hoped that cut scarred over. He wanted Johan to carry this event with him for all time, to never be the simple brat he’d been before. It was unlikely that Anna and Vasilis would allow that though. They would expend every penny necessary to keep Johan’s face pretty and unmarred.

“Alex? Are you there? I don’t want to be alone,” Johan whined through hiccups.

In a fit of pique, Tracht slapped Johan, on the same side of the cut, and Johan cried out, his soft sobs turning into outright crying.

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