Page 116 of Quinlan

“Well, that’s just notvery nice of you, is it?” I ask my right wrist as I massage the sore area. “You had a full day off yesterday. This pinching isn’t allowed, mister.”

My wrist doesn’t answer. I don’t feel any crazier for it. After an entire day on my own, I think I’ve finally gained some of my sanity back.

Especially since no one’s been an asshole to me. Quite the opposite. This comfortable work chair, this amazing desk that goes up and down whenever my back starts acting up. These men thought and cared that I had the best working conditions.

No one forced me to go to the bathroom in front of them. I woke up to presents and breakfast and a note, for fuck’s sake.

As I look outside at the night sky, I go over the words I’ve memorized over the past day.

Little captive,

Eating is non-negotiable. We aren’t going to force you to eat. Won’t stick a funnel in your mouth and choke you on a proteinshake to keep you alive, although Damien would like that very much.

We do, however, have creative ways of making you eat. Willingly.

You’re welcome to try us. We’d love to demonstrate.

After you eat, your new laptop awaits. Everything you need has been installed on it, and it’s already connected to the Wi-Fi network here. The instructions, guidelines and information about BLF Capital has been arranged in a folder for you to look at. We’re available to answer any question you might have.

But only once you’ve finished your breakfast.

You will be punished if you do it the other way around.

I did eat. In fact, I even ventured to the kitchen in the afternoon to grab myself something to eat before the men returned.

My heart hurt at the sight of their kitchen.

So much food was piled on the shelves of the pantry. A floor-to-ceiling worth of dried and canned food, cookies, granola and protein bars, bread, bagels, coffee and tea boxes to last for decades.

The fridge was just as heavily stocked. Vegetables, fruit, three gallons of milk, orange, tomato and some unidentified green juice. Eggs. A million condiments. Containers upon containers of prepped meals.

Last but not least, the freezer. Meat, fish, chicken and vegetables. Ice cream containers of Cookie Dough, Cherry Garcia, Chunky Monkey, plain vanilla, and chocolate.

Food hoarding. That was what I witnessed there, what led me to this simple realization. Insisting that I eat wasn’t a control thing. That was someone’s response to trauma I was looking at.

Damien didn’t say anything about Rex starving him. Maybe he did. Maybe Rome or Liam were deprived of food.

That, too, pained me. I had nothing to do about it, though, not while I was home alone. So I threw myself into work and made sure the outside world didn’t have a meltdown over me being gone.

First thing I did was email my parents and their doctors, then Ray. My clients’ questions and issues were resolved quickly. The rest of the day revolved around building BLF Capital’s website from scratch.

I wasn’t allowed to email Rex, and I didn’t want to. Didn’t have it in me to soothe him, tell him I’m doing okay here. He’d never been the best brother, the best man. I made excuses for him. I’d lived with the way he was.

Torturing kids? Fuck. No. The sinking feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. It just wouldn’t. I believed Damien. The barely contained pain in his voice was all the proof I needed.

“Come on, wrist, get better. We have long weeks ahead of us.”

My wrist sticks to its silence. I do the same, saying nothing while I massage the area. I’m being unfair, blaming my poor wrist for the damage I’d done to it.

Well, not really damage. It’s about to get better in three, two, one… There it is. The tightness around the ligaments eases. Perfect.

“Why didn’t we go to dinner, you ask?” Jesus, I’ve resulted into an in-depth conversation with my wrist. “Because—” I start and stop.

Someone might be watching me. They might be monitoring the laptop. I wouldn’t put it past them.

I can’t give them the answer, for the same reason I didn’t join them for dinner and ate the one that was left outside my room by myself.

Privacy. I need it. At least some sense of it. A day or two to be alone with my thoughts. I lost my virginity yesterday to notone but three men. I’ve been turned into a pawn in someone’s revenge plot. My freaking brother abused kids.Kids.

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