Page 13 of The Freedom in Captivity

Flynn narrows his eyes, calculatingly scanning me. “You’re so much of a bitch, you don’t have any empathy?”

“You want me to be empathetic toward the people keeping me captive? If you’re worried about my safety upstairs, don’t bother. I can handle them.”

“If you ‘handle them,’ as you state, be aware Nico won’t stand for shit.”

I scoff. “Clearly. We arguing about this further or are you going to let me use the bathroom?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, his lips pursed, before shrugging one shoulder lazily and turning back toward me. “Your funeral.”

Wait, that worked?

Biting my lip, I hide my excitement to not only have some fresh air from upstairs, but the knowledge that with very little argument, I won.

Flynn walks behind the chair, his size casting a large, dark shadow over me. His musky scent yanks me to another time. A past only existing in my memories.

The ropes fall away from my wrists, and I immediately bring them to my front, twisting and rolling, stretching to return movement to them. I think I even moan, the pleasure of having full control of my limbs returned.

“Isn’t it sad to be happy over something so simple?” Flynn rumbles, his heavy steps coming around to the front to undo the bindings on my legs. “Imagine what you’d sound like if I actually gave you something worth moaning about.”

“You tell me,” I shoot back. “You’re the one kneeling.”

His movements get jerkier, and I smirk, knowing I’ve affected him in some way. The moment my legs are also free though, his hands clasp them, replacing the rope that was recently tying them. Keeping me still, he leans closer, his face aligning with mine, his nostrils flaring with his impatient, irritated breathing.

“Careful what you say. I remember you enjoying being on your knees. Still the fantastic cock-sucking whore you used to be?”

Everything inside me wants to glance away, but I won’t give him that satisfaction. The term brandishes my heart, the pain striking me from the fact that it’sFlynnsaying these things. The boy I knew would cut off his hand before insulting me in such a way outside the bedroom. His degradation used to only ever be in the moment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I tilt my head, aiming for a cocky guise to mask the churning sensation in my stomach.

“Not even in my nightmares.” Pushing to his feet, he takes me with him, his hand a heavy belt around my upper arm as he drags me away from the chair but not toward the stairs. Pain flits through my leg as I use it for the first time since being stabbed. It doesn’t hurt as much as I expected though. A throb rather than pure agony.

“So, youarestill dreaming of me then.”

He glowers before reaching for a pile of chains on the floor. The rings aren’t thick, maybe half a finger’s width, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to free myself from his grip because I sense I won’t enjoy what’s next.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Flynn?”

Again, no response. He picks up the chains and tosses one roughly over my shoulder. The sudden weight hits a muscle at just the wrong angle, making me flinch, but he pays little attention as he reaches around me, bringing the chain around my neck once, twice, before releasing my arm, the end of the chain in his free palm.

It’s not tight around my throat, but heavy, nonetheless, digging into my shoulders. I reach up, tucking my hands around the edge before I’m strangled.

“Relax,” he mutters gruffly. “It’s looped in a way you won’t choke.”

“Until you jerk on that.” I nod my head toward the end he’s holding.

Without warning, his muscle flexes and he yanks on the chain. I prepare for it to tighten but as he stated, the chain doesn’t. Opening one eye at a time, I curse his cocky smirk. At one point in my life, I enjoyed that smirk. Now I can’t fucking stand it.

He turns toward the stairs, tugging on my chain until I have no choice but to follow, walking me like a damned dog.

“Is this necessary? Not like I can run anywhere.”

“Won’t take chances,” he answers when we near the top of the wooden steps. “How do I know what you’ll do? Desperation drives people to make stupid decisions.”

“Why would I work my way into this place and then try to escape the first instance?”

Leaning over me, from where he stands two stairs above me, he growls. “Tell me why I should believe anything you say. You claim to have some master plan, but it makes no sense when it’s your father who set you up.”

“He left me here for those reasons,” I admit, giving him a bit of what I can; nothing he’ll be able to use quite yet. “But I took charge of how this is going down, so everything after his initial order is of my own decision, including getting captured.”

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