Page 4 of They Call Him Reaper

“Boss! The black one I told you about is awake! She looks healthy, like a prime piece of pussy.”

It takes everything in my power to withhold my reaction. He wants to see me sweat. Begging won’t help; I learned that from my brief interaction with The Reaper. People like this will dowhat pleases them, whether you want them to or not. Our fear is just another perk that they crave.

I do look different than the other girls. While they're cleaner than the veteran sex slaves, they don't look like they've recently showered. It’s obvious the younger ones are runaways. The best way for this to work is taking women most people aren't trying to find. I'm sure some of these women were already considered lost.

He unlocks our cage and folds his big body to step inside. Another woman interrupts his reach for me.

"Please let me go," she begs from his other side. Her brown hair lays limply on her shoulders, and she's still bound like me. She must have been recently taken as well. As she reaches for the balding asshole who was just in my face, he kicks her in the ribs as a reward.

"Don't touch me, whore," he snarls and spits in her direction.

He has muscular arms, but his belly sticks out and his already strong cologne becomes more pronounced as he beats her. I want to help, but I know jumping on him will not help her in any way. The poor woman cries from the beating until her urine runs down her bare legs.

“Enough!" I look around but cannot see who's talking "I've already warned you about your temper! Bring the healthy one,” some man says from a distance, possibly over an intercom. His voice is cold, but I swear I’ve heard it before. I just cannot place it.

I grunt in pain when the goon grabs me by my hair. The sting brings tears to my eyes, but I don’t say anything. Mentioning my dad may put a bigger target on my back.

He guides me up a dark corridor, through another room, then up some stairs. Stopping just before the door, he cuts off my restraints, then opens the door. A beautiful mansion awaits us on the other side. Bright marble floors, glittering chandeliers,and art most people cannot afford speaks to the wealth of the “boss.” I’m pushed into a massive bedroom that looks as lavish as the rest of the place.

The rug I fell on feels like it’s made from the finest materials. Shiny shoes grab my attention as I follow them up the tux to the face of the boss.

Michat Kaminski, tech billionaire, smiles down at me. He’s not classically handsome, but his money and audacity that ooze off him makes him catnip for women. He’s a somewhat mysterious dark-haired billionaire. I used to call him Bruce Wayne as a joke, but he’s no Batman. He’s the devil in a suit. I hate how his dark eyes roam over me.

“Which one of you bruised my prize?” he asks without averting his gaze.

“Jakub,” the one who dragged me in here says. “He had to subdue her after she hit me during her extraction.”

He reaches out his hand to me, and I take it. I can recognize evil when I’m looking it in the eye. “Tell him to come apologize.” He rubs my cheek with his thumb, and I know pulling away would be a death sentence. I want to punch him in his crooked nose, but that brief satisfaction will get me hurt more. “This one was purchased to be in my personal collection.”

He pulls me outside onto a balcony, which is almost as big as the room. The sun hurts my eyes, but at least I’m getting some fresh air, unlike the poor women in his dungeon.

“What’s your name?” He shakes his head before I can answer. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll name you.” I’d be offended, but I’m too mentally occupied trying to find a way, if any, to survive this mess. “Sasha. Don’t think I don’t see the spark in your eyes when you want to protest. I’m just happy someone has already taught you how to shut the fuck up.”

“Boss? Jakub is here.”

I almost recoil when the completely bald one with the scar on his cheek comes outside.

He's just as big and mean as the one who beat the girl.

The memory of him smacking me is still fresh. Time has gotten away from me, making me unsure of how long I’ve been under. Knowing that I live in the same city as this asshole, I’m assuming it didn't take long.

“You’ve bruised my prize, Jakub. Apologize.”

Jakub sniffs like I’m beneath him. LikeI’mthe scummy kidnapper in this scenario. His scar looks angrier in the sunlight. He murmurs something in his native tongue, but Michat silences him. With a snort, he delivers a subpar apology for my bruise.

Two loud shots make me jump. Jakub spurts blood before he collapses. The other guy yells, “My brother!” then runs to his brother’s prone body. Michat shrugs and shoots him as well.

“Look. They’re back together again.”

New men rush out and start to clean up his mess. I want to vomit, but I need to remain appealing to him. Grabbing my jaw, he forces me to look at him.

“I’ll kill for you, Sasha.” He puts the gun under my chin, and his sneer makes his veneers look even bigger. “But don’t make me kill you.” As he leans in, the scent of his cologne mixes with the cigarette smoke on his breath. “You will get dressed, be my perfect little mistress for my party, and fuck me like you mean it once it’s all over.”

He kisses me hard, and I try not to gag at his bitter taste. I may be invited inside the mansion, but I’m not sure I have a better fate. I want to cry when his hand slips under my shirt to fondle my bare breast. The relief from him letting me go is short-lived.

Holding back tears, I nod my acquiescence right before he rips open my shirt and takes a better look at my breasts. He cupsthem and weighs them in his hands like they’re produce. My anger builds, but there isn't anywhere to expel it.

"Mmm. I'd fuck you right now if I didn’t have so much to do." Squeezing my boobs, he pinches my nipples. I hate that I feel any kind of sensation. His breathing is labored, like he's ready to come, and my stomach turns. "These are nice. I don't have to get you new ones."

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