Page 4 of The Queen's Serpent

I drag her, kicking and fighting, screams and shrieks blaring in my eardrums, down the short grouping of stone stairs and past a few of my bewildered men, who avert their shocked gazes at the sight of us both naked and fighting. I can feel her starting to struggle to breathe, and it’s making my dick throb.Fuck.Maybe I should just force her to the jungle floor right here and fuck the brattiness out of her? Naw, that won’t work; she’s a stubborn bitch, even though I have no doubt I would enjoy it immensely.

She wants to act like she hates me, but we both know that’s not the full story. If she wants to behave like a captive, then I’ll treat her how we would a captive. I drag her along the jungle floor, her body tripping and banging into everything in her path. I loosen my grip slightly on her neck to ensure she can get some air into her lungs, when we reach the deep pit I had my men dig twenty feet from our new home. I hold her tightly at arm’s length, staring at her while she continues to try to fight me.

“I’m going to kill you, Diego! Release me, you piece of shit! You’re a psychopath!”

Her words amuse me. Yeah, I know I am behaving like a psychopath. Do I fucking care, though?No, I fucking don’t.She’s a spoiled princess used to getting whatever she wants, and usingher grandmother or sister to fight her battles. My queen needs to be strong. She needs to be able to stand on her own two feet, and fight her own battles. I will make Issy fucking strong so that she can survive the world I am bringing her into.

What if she fails?The thought whispers through my mind, bringing with it unease, as I stare at her frightened face.If she fails, she dies.It is the only mercy that I can provide her. Only the strong survive in my world.

With one last look at her, I push her over the edge of the pit and release my hold on her, and she goes screaming inside its twelve-foot sloped drop. I hear her bang down on the palm leaves-covered bottom, and look over the edge to see her naked body sprawled, and her dark, sweaty hair covering her face.

“Enjoy your stay in your new prison, my pretty captive. Maybe a few nights sleeping with the beasties of the jungle will improve your fucking attitude.” With a final quick observation to ensure she didn’t break anything in the fall, I start to walk away just as she jumps up and starts screaming, and trying to climb out of the pit.

Good luck with that; she’s not getting out of there.It’s the same style of pit my family has used for generations to deal with our enemies. If I want her to die out in that pit, she will. None of my men will dare defy me to help her. She wants to behave like my captive instead of my queen, well fucking let her then.

Chapter three

Issy

“She had been defeated by herself alone,and the sadness of it left a dark shadow in her heart.”

Yo Yo, Ghost Tide

I jump up and try to grab onto anything along the slicked and firm dirt-packed walls, in an attempt to climb out of this pit that fucker Diego threw me into, what feels like days ago. It’s the same result every single time. I manage to make it no more than a foot or two off the ground before I’m sliding back down, and my feet are making contact with the thick palm leaves all around me.

My weakened and quickly dehydrating state isn’t helping me get out of here. That motherfucking bastard, just wait till I get my hands on him; I’m going to rip off his balls and choke him with them.Sure you are, princess, my mind snickers with disbelief.

Sweat slickens every part of my itchy, bug-bitten, and dirt-covered body, as I let out another feral scream of frustration at my situation. The bright sunlight soars above me through the thick canopy of trees, bringing with it the oppressive heat and humidity. I drag my hands down my face as the throbbing in my temples intensifies. My right eye is twitching with the migraine that is refusing to leave me.

How many days has he left me trapped down here? One, two, maybe fucking three? I still can’t believe the psychopath threwme into a hole in the ground, and left me here to die.What. The. Fuck.

Don’t be so dramatic, you sniveling weakling. He didn’t completely abandon you. One of his men brings you water, food, and the bucket twice daily. That’s a lot more than most prisoners get. Besides, I’m sure by now some jungle creature would have eaten you, if they weren’t out there protecting you from above.

My mind plays devil’s advocate with me, calling me out for my continuous weakness even now while we are being held prisoner in a fucking hole. How can I try to rationalize what he has done? How can I continue to berate myself when he is the villain?He is the villain, isn’t he?His sick and deranged need to own me, to control me, that makes him insane, doesn’t it?

“Señorita?“ A gruff male voice calls from above, sounding unsure and curious. Why does he even bother calling out and sounding like he’s questioning my whereabouts? Where the fuck else would I be? I can’t teleport the hell out of here, and they all know I can’t climb out of this death trap, despite my pitiful attempts to do just that.

I am surrounded by lunatics, it seems, all of them answering to the devil, who goes by the name of Diego Cabano. “I’m here. Where else would I be?” I shout back up the hole, using my hands to block out the blinding sunlight.

“Please, miss, stand back so I can drop your water, food, and the bucket.” He calls down, appearing at the edge of the hole, but refusing to actually stare down at me. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of his orders. He apparently has been ordered not to look directly at me by his boss, cause you know, the fucker threw me naked into a hole in the ground.That motherfucker, I can’t wait to kick him in the balls.The orders are so absurd that poor Santiago hit me with a water bottle in the face yesterday, or wasthat the day before?Fuck, how many days have I been trapped here?

“Santiago, how many days have I been in this hole?” I question, my voice sounding raspy as I use the name he unwillingly provided me, after I begged and cried like the weakling I am. Poor Santiago seemed completely distressed at my predicament, and my breakdown.Imagine how I feel, Santiago, just fucking imagine.

“Today is the third. Watch out for the bucket!” He yells before he lowers the thin bungee cord attached to a metal bucket. The indignity of having to relieve myself twice a day into a damn bucket, which is then carted away, so I don’t further soil my jungle prison.At least Diego was willing to give you a bucket. I’m sure his other prisoners don’t get that luxury, my mind snarks, but I’m done with that bitch always trying to look on the bright side.

There is no bright side to being drugged and taken captive by a psychotic weapons-dealing warlord, dragged to the middle of the fucking jungle, fucked ruthlessly, filled with cum, and then thrown into a damn hole in the ground, when you demand that he release you. All because you tried to break up with his unstable and unreasonable ass.

I unhook the small clasp off the bucket handle and pull it aside, moving closer to the furthest wall of my round, earthy prison cell. My hands shake as I lower the bucket to the ground, giving Santiago my back and using my hair to give me an imagined sense of dignity, as I squat the best I can over the bucket, and relieve my aching bladder. When I’m done, I reach forward and grab a palm leaf from the top layer of my prison floor, grimacing as I use it to wipe myself.

The fucker didn’t even provide me with toilet paper. When I questioned Santiago on why I was given a bucket but nothing to wipe with, I was told it was not good for the environment.Canyou believe this shit?Someone call fuckingGreenpeaceor some shit, and give my captors a medal or something.

I attach the disgusting bucket back onto the hook and give it a tug, and Santiago carefully pulls it back up through the hole and out of sight. My eyes search the ground around me for the bottle of water, and pieces of fruit he threw down to me. Oh, look, I get a banana and what Santiago called an aguaje yesterday. Some round orange fruit that kind of looks like a cross between a persimmon and an apple, but actually tastes like a lemony tomato. I’d roll my eyes at the absurdity of that combination, but I don’t have the energy to even do that anymore.

As I sit down in my prison with my knees tight against my chest, consuming my only source of nourishment, I once again wonder if my grandmother Stella is looking for me. She has to be so worried after my sister was taken not so long ago, and held prisoner by an unhinged psychopath. It appears that we Stratford women seem to be plagued by them, and I will be no exception.

Someone is always out to take, overpower, and hurt us. That is our legacy. The legacy of constantly being at war, and on the defense against the whole world that would do us harm. When will it ever be enough? When will we have peace?

I shake my head as the juices from the aguaje drip down my chin and make my hands sticky. I am nothing like my sister or grandmother. I am not a warrior, willing to fight off everyone who means our family harm. I don’t have it in me to fight back, never mind to protect myself. Just look at the predicament I find myself in.Trapped. Disheveled. Hopeless.

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