Page 1 of Taken

Prologue

Jolie

NOW

Sometime in November, 2018…

Somewhere in Louisiana…

“Wake up.”

A deep voice sounded from above me as a rough hand shook my left arm. I did my best not to wince from the fingertips digging into the deep purple bruises there, and I kept my eyes firmly shut. Maybe the insane man who’d taken me captive would finally leave me alone if I pretended to be asleep.

“I said, wake up.”

A jet of freezing water hit me in the face. I yelped and got up, skittering to the far side of the mattress before cowering away from the hose. “I’m awake,” I muttered.

It was dim in my cage. Or cell. I hadn’t really decided what to call it yet.

Despite the lack of light, I knew it probably wasn’t the middle of the night. I had no idea what the time was, though. It could be morning, noon, or evening, and I wouldn’t know. Considering where this place was in relation to the main house, there was no way for me to tell. Not unless the tiny TV in the corner was on, and it wasn’t right now.

My mysterious captor had presumably put the TV there so I wouldn’t completely lose my mind in this place. It went on for around two hours a day, and then it switched off again. Still, even with that, I’d managed to lose track of time. I didn’t even know what day of the week it was anymore.

“I knew you were faking it,” the masked man said. “Although that isn’t surprising, given your history. Lying little slut.”

He let out a low chuckle. There was no mirth in it, only mockery and bitterness. I thought he might spray me with the hose again, but instead, he stepped back and opened the barred cell door with his code. Then he stood behind the bars, lurking in the darkness and watching me as I cowered on the bed. Behind him was a set of stairs which led out of this hellhole.

I would never reach them. I’d long since given up on that hope. When I discovered the nature of my prison several days ago, I realized it would be impossible to escape.

I drew in a shaky breath and crawled off the mattress. The man would probably get angry—or angrier, I should say—at me if I tried to walk or show any sign of strength whatsoever.

On my side of the barred partition, there was a tray with a plate of food and a cup of water. Meager rations. Dirty crockery. I didn’t care. I stayed crouched by the tray and gulped down the water before starting on the food.

“It’s a shame I have to bother keeping you fed,” the man muttered. I couldn’t see his face behind the black mask, but somehow I could still tell he was glaring at me malevolently.

“Why do it then?” I murmured between bites of plain oatmeal.

He didn’t respond. I finished the food and pushed the tray through the bottom of the barred partition for the man to take away. Then I sat back on the cold floor, waiting for him to leave.

This time, he didn’t. My heart began to thud. That meant he was probably here to hurt me again, not just feed me.

On one side of the cell, there was a large mirror taking up a portion of the wall. I had a feeling the man had put it there so I would be forced to see what he’d done to my body whenever I was awake.

I looked over at my reflection now. I saw a shivering young woman, pale skin a bright contrast with the gloom surrounding her. A bruised and battered body, matted hair that was once silky, peeling lips that were once soft and pink.

Even though I’d lost track of time, I estimated that I’d been here for somewhere around a week and a half. Two weeks at the very most. The man who’d kidnapped me and tortured me was always covered from head to toe in black, and his voice was always muffled behind his mask. I had absolutely no idea who he was.

I had a feeling I knew who the mastermind behind my captivity was, though.

I’d spent many of my formative years at the New Eden commune, in bondage to a group of sadistic men who abused me and many others for their own sick, twisted pleasure, using a fake religion as a cover. I knew I couldn’t suffer it all over again, so after my escape many years ago, I’d made a vow to myself. I will never be a captive again.

And yet, here I was. I’d come full circle. I was a captive then, and I was a captive now. Like it was my fate.

I guess I’d slipped. I hadn’t been careful enough to avoid danger despite my vow. The men I thought were long-dead must somehow still be alive, and they must’ve paid this strange man to kidnap and torture me; break me down until they were ready to take me back into the fold.

The masked stranger crouched to my level. In the dim light, I could see his eyes gleaming maliciously under the mask. “Still such a pretty girl,” he said softly. “It’s a real shame.”

“Please tell me why I’m here,” I said. I’d asked a thousand times since I was taken, but I couldn’t resist doing it again. I was desperate. “Are you from the Path of the Covenant?”

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