Page 72 of Colton
“Listen, you little bitch. I could shoot you between the fucking eyes right now, but I want me and my men to have some fun with you, so fucking listen good.” He pulls my face close to his and drags his tongue under my wet eyes, drinking my tears. “You’ll fucking behave. You’ll break. The harder you fight, the longer I will drag this out.”
Spittle flies from my mouth as I try to spit at him, but it runs down my chin as I feel a sharp sting in my arm.
Xavier looks down at my arm then releases me, straightening his jacket like he’s getting ready for a business meeting.
“Take her to the lower level,” Xavier commands as my vision swims. “And for fucks sake, chain her feet up. Make it tight.” He smiles at me, the last thing I see before I’m hauled to my feet.
Whatever they’ve injected me with has rendered me fucking useless. My limbs don’t respond, my head lolls forward, and my breathing becomes instantly shallow.
Brave men, drugging me so I can’t use my strength. They couldn’t handle me without chains, ropes, or drugs.
The men drag me down a narrow corridor. The air reeks of damp and decay. My body is limp, but inside, I’m screaming, clawing my way back to the surface.
I can’t pass out again.
The men hauling me are silhouettes, faceless figures in the gloom. Their grips are brutal, fingers digging into my flesh like claws.
I try to struggle, to kick out, but my limbs are heavy, unresponsive.
We descend deeper into the bowels of the building, the air growing colder, the stink more pungent. A door creaks open, and I’m thrown into a dark room, my body hitting the hard, unforgiving floor. Pain explodes through me, but it’s distant, dulled by the drugs. I blink, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but everything is a blur of shadows and faint, flickering light.
Where am I? Is this where I found the photographs of the victims?
But it’s hard to tell, my vision is blurry as fuck.
The clank of chains echoes through the room, and suddenly, my ankles are being shackled, the cold metal biting into my skin. Then my hands are shackled too, leaving me in a star shape on the wall. I try to kick out, to fight, but my movements are sluggish, pathetic.
The men laugh, their voices echoing in the dark.
“Have fun with this one, boys,” one of them sneers. “She’s got spirit.”
The door slams shut, and I’m left alone in the dark, the sound of my ragged breathing echoing off the cold stone walls. I strain against the chains, but it’s useless. They’re too tight, too strong. Panic claws at my throat, but I push it down, forcing myself to breathe, to think.
I need to stay calm and stay sharp. I need to find a way out of this fucking hellhole.
My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, and I realize I’m not alone. Shadows shift in the gloom, and slowly, the shapes resolve into figures. Women. Chained to the walls, their bodies hunched, broken. Their eyes are hollow, empty, staring at nothing.
Are they even alive?
Bile rises in my throat as I realize what this place is. A dungeon. Xavier’s personal playground, where he keeps his toys, his victims.
Rage boils within me, burning away the last of the drugs’ effects. I won’t be another of his victims. I won’t be chained to this wall, left to rot in the dark. I won’t let him win.
I grit my teeth, steeling myself against the pain, the fear, the despair threatening to overwhelm me. I have to stay strong. I have to fight. For Sophia. For the women chained in the dark. For myself.
But then I shift my head to the sound of feet padding towards me, and my breath stalls in my throat.
It’s two mountains. No, two men built like mountains, and they’re looking at me hungrily.
I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what’s to come. I’m chained to a fucking wall—I’m literally powerless. But surely, they’ll have to unchain me to move me...if they want to fuck me, that is.
The thought makes me gag, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been raped, is it? I let out a bitter laugh as they step forward,reaching out to palm my tits, licking their lips as their eyes roam over me. Their hands are on me, rough and eager. I can feel their breath on my skin, the stench making me want to retch. I know what’s coming, but I can’t afford to break—not yet. I’ll make them think I’m weak, and then I’ll find my opening.
I’ll let them think they’ve won. Let them unchain me, loosen their grip. And then, when they least expect it, I’ll strike.
“I’m having her ass,” one grunts out, reaching for what looks like a pull cord, and I fully expect the lights to come on. Instead, I fall to the floor, still shackled.
What the fuck?
