Page 8 of A Pawn in the Game
“What difference does it make?”
She shrugs and I turn around, massaging my shoulder better. I slump onto the couch and sigh. “Four am.”
I throw a blanket over myself, one of those I brought before I kidnapped her. This place was hardly guest ready. I had little time, but at least I’ve burned the musty bedding that was here before. The club has a bunch of potential, but it’s a shit hole at the moment.
Hopefully, we’ll deal with Sophie soon, so I can get back to my plans of making this place a respectable sex club.
I rub a hand over my face, only to realize I’m not wearing a mask.Shit.I took it off when I thought she was sleeping. Leon would kill me if he knew. But it’s not like it’ll make a difference. After we’re done with her father, she’ll be terrified enough to never mention meeting us again.
CHAPTER 5
Sophie
Even chained to the bed, I fall asleep. The adrenaline of the day drained me, and the body has a way of making sure its needs are met, no matter if the mind wants to stay up and keep guard.
I wake up with my arm chained in a twisted position. A groan escapes me as I try to move it, but it’s asleep. A figure sits on the couch, scrolling on his phone, the mask back in place.
There was no reason for him to put the mask back on. It’s not like the image of him towering over me with his hand around my throat will leave my mind anytime soon. His eyes were as dark as coal, so was his mussed hair. His nostrils were flared, and his jaw was set in stone. The tattoos peeking out of his shirt looked almost angry, straining underneath the strength of his broad shoulders and the thick veins in his neck. I felt like he could crush me with a single snap of his fingers. My free hand lands on my throat, checking for injuries. He didn’t hurt me, though. Clearing my throat, I decide to ask for a bathroom break.
“I need to pee,” I say, though barely anything comes out. “I need to pee,” I repeat, this time louder.
The man’s eyes snap to me before he gets up.It’s not him.
This man is not the one I dubbedboss-manin my head, nor the other one who guarded me yesterday. He is slightly shorter, and his shoulders are narrower. Which means three separate men know I’m kidnapped and are in on it.
If I had any doubt this was a mob thing, it’s gone now. Guess Dad learned nothing from his previous experiences. And this time,I’llbe the one paying for it.
The guard unlocks my cuff, and I massage the aching wrist with my other hand on the way to the bathroom. I do my business and wash my hands before splashing cold water on my face.
Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing. But there’s no escaping the thought I’ve been repressing since the moment I realized something was wrong.
Alan.
My dearest, sweetest, good boy. The light of my life. My heart rate spikes alarmingly, so I splash more cold water on myself, but it does shit to help. Tears form rapidly in the corners of my eyes while I try to rationalize what happened.
He was with me when I was taken. They probably left him there.
What if he’s starving on the street?
We were close to our building. He would have walked home. He also has a collar; someone could have taken him home.
Then what? They rang the doorbell and what happened when no one opened?
These men had no reason to hurt him.
What if he fought back, trying to save me? What if he bit them?
There’s no way to stop the flood of tears escaping my eyes. There’s no way to stop the hyperventilating breaths that make black spots appear in my vision.
A loud wail tears from me as I drop to my knees to the cold, tiled floor. My skin is pulled taut, and I feel like it’s burning. I push my nails into my palms as hard as I can, but it’s not enough.Before I can fight my emotional pain with the physical one, I hear loud voices on the other side of the door.
“What the hell is going on here?” a voice roars out.
Three loud bangs to the door are enough for my adrenaline to pick up and for my pain to subside, almost imperceptibly.
“Open the fuck up!” the loud voice booms again.
Still on the floor, I reach my hand out to unlock the door, barely mustering the energy for it.
