Page 13 of Captive Souls

Though I avoided crowded sidewalks and crowds in general when possible. I didn’t like it, being around people. Living people, normal people. Hence why I made my living in death. My habitat was the underworld, full of scoundrels, demons and murderers. My kind.

Piper was not my kind. And being in an enclosed space with her for an hour was pure torture. She smelled of some kind of fruit. Peaches, maybe. Sweet. And despite the gravity of her situation, she had a fucking spring to her step as she walked into the gas station. The spring that only served to make her ass wiggle that much more.

She opened the door for someone heading in, smiling at the mother and small child in front of her as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she wasn’t hurtling toward some unknown location with a murderer. A monster. Me.

I had an urge, an almost overwhelming urge, to drive away, leave her here. Safe. As far away from me as possible.

But the problem was she wouldn’t stay safe for long. Stone would just send someone else after her. Likely Groves.

My hands clenched the steering wheel. Stone had strict instructions not to harm Piper, but I knew that Groves would do everything he could to circumvent that order, to ensure that he hurt her, took her in any way he could.

I relished in death. Pain. But only of those who deserved it. I did not like to take people apart just to see them hurt. Didn’t find joy in sullying those who didn’t deserve it.

Groves did.

He would not lay a hand on Piper. He would not even glimpse her. That was a promise I made to myself, even though there was no real way to keep it.

Eventually, I’d have to hand her over to Stone, untouched, her will broken.

The thought made me want to burn down the fucking world.

Piper

Our trip ended in the Appalachian Mountains. I’d spent a large portion of my childhood in these mountains. Some of my most treasured memories were made here. Before my father decided that he wouldn’t allow me or my sister to be away from him. Ash-filled memories that were previously coated in sunshine and smelled of morning dew against the trees.

Whether he knew about my bittersweet history here remained to be seen. How much he knew about my past remained to be seen. Stone had communicated just how much he knew about me, so I assumed he’d told his minion. I shifted uncomfortably, knowing he must have at least a rudimentary understanding of my life, my past, while I knew nothing about him other than he was highly dangerous.

Dusk was falling as we drove over bumpy dirt roads, climbing higher and farther into denser vegetation with signs of civilization growing sparse. Large trees surrounded us, encasing us in their embrace as we wove up the mountain.

Though I was plenty afraid, I didn’t think I was going to die. He wouldn’t have gone to such an effort in order to merely killme. That could’ve been done in Central Park. Although there were plenty of other things a man could take a woman to a very secluded location for that weren’t killing her.

“Are you going to rape me?” I blurted, unable to handle the bubbling of that thought tearing away at my insides like acid. Was it better to know in advance? Probably not. There was no real way to prepare for rape, yet I asked the question, nonetheless.

His head whipped in my direction, the most attention he’s given me. The car even jerked a little, drifting precariously close to the edge of what was becoming a sheer drop to our right.

He righted the car quickly, eyes and head returning in the direction of the road.

His knuckles were pure white.

“No.” The word was heavy, settling like a weight in my stomach.

It could’ve been a lie. A man who worked for Stone was likely in the practice of lying, but it didn’t feel like one.

I rolled my lips against each other, my shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Torture me?” I asked after a few more moments, the faint crunch of the tires against the dirt the only sound.

He didn’t turn so dramatically this time, as if the question was less egregious, or maybe he was prepared for it.

“No.” He said it quieter this time.

Though the tenor of the response was slightly different, it seemed just as sincere.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, tapping my fingers on my knees.

“No rape or torture,” I repeated. “Always a plus with abductions, though this is my first time. Being abducted, that is.”

He didn’t respond, I didn’t really expect him to. He wasn’t here to engage in conversation, after all.

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