Page 10 of The Freedom in Captivity

“Eleven years changes shit,” I summarize. “We’rebothdifferent, so instead of assuming I’d seduce my way to freedom, maybe consider that my goals don’t include having sex with a killer.”

Despite my attitude, he only smiles. Malicious, but almost genuine, like he enjoyed my comment. The kind of smile I can picture on his face right before he takes someone’s life. A killer’s smile.

“You forget, I know what you enjoy.” His tone drops low, every word measured and capturing my heartbeat. “The force. The chase. The fight. You revelled in being my little slut, no matter who was around. So, tell me, Rozelyn, does fucking a ‘killer,’ as you put it, really sound that bad to you?”

Flynn

My hand is around her neck, her skin already cut from my knives. She’s a fucking wet dream come to life and my traitorous dick is getting hard just looking at her.

Rozelyn jerks to the side again, trying to escape my tight hold. She doesn’t understand that there is no escape. This basement is where her life will end, and the sooner she provides answers, the quicker we can head for the finish line.

“Fuck you,” she hisses. “Besides, pretty sure your bosses will have something to say if they find you with your dick buried inside the prisoner.”

Maybe. They would find the torture methods a bit different than my usual techniques. But also, maybe not. After all, even the Corsettis have their own inclinations. Rafael owns a sex club and I’ve spotted Nico sprinting after Della across the property late at night. Everyone has preferences, and my dark, depraved ones are no different.

I chuckle darkly. “You think anyone would know? I’m your only source of company for the rest of your life. The moment Nico deposited you down here, he was finished with you. You only have one further use for us.”

“Telling you where my father is,” she fills in. “What if I don’t know his exact whereabouts?”

“Then I’d say you’re a fuckin’ liar. You have to know. Where were you escaping to when Nico’s men caught you?”

“Why should I tell you, when, as you said, it’s my bargaining chip?”

Believing the information she has will save her pathetic life? I slide my knife to the front of her neck again, poking at her collarbone.

“There is no bargaining. No deals. Just torture.” I drag the knife over her pale skin, dipping toward the curve of her breasts. “It’s amazing what torture does to the mind, Rozelyn. The way the body screams and fights for relief, for life, all while trying to retain breath. To be awake and focused on the present because the moment you succumb to the darkness, you won’t ever wake again.”

The sharpened blade pushes into the top of her shirt and with little effort, it begins its tear. I grasp the base of her shirt, holding it firm, my eyes not moving away from hers as I slice her shirt in half, the edges falling to the side to reveal a lacy, black bra that makes my dick twitch. She doesn’t blink even as I’m stripping her.

With a firm set mouth, she says, “What if I told you Iwilladmit everything, once a few of my demands are met. But not now. In a few days.”

What the fuck is she goin’ on about?

“I’d say you were lying again.”

With her chest now exposed, I draw circles with my knife over her breasts. Light enough not to nick her but a threat nonetheless. It dips close to the edge of her bra, only an inch from her nipple.

“I-if I’m not lying?”

Interesting. The subtle hitch of her breath, the stutter in her voice, is enough to prove the effect I’m having. Maybe she won’t be so challenging to break after all.

“You’ll say anything to live. But I have bigger plans for you, so until you talk, I won’t stop.”

Her attention drops from me to the knife, and she leans back in the chair, aiming to arch away from it. She can’t make it far, and I easily follow, my knife lingering in the valley between her breasts.

“Careful,” I warn in a tone implying I don’t care if she heeds it or not. “Breathe too hard and you might lose your bra too.”

“I’m sure that’s your goal,” she grits with venom. “Torture, is it then?”

“Yes,” I answer easily. “A woman’s screams are…” I pause, seeking the best word. “Delectable.” Rozelyn’s screams will be life-changing. Eleven years of emotion will be released into every injury. “Women are different than men. Break them too fast, they die. They require more paced torture. Daily reminders of what’s happening to them.”

The knife continues its trajectory, over her stomach, which she tries to cave in, but that’s not my endgame so I continue. Over her waistband and stopping with it pointed right at the spot where her pants cover her cunt.

“Torturing a woman is a mental game, and I won’t show mercy. We’ll be down here for quite a few days unless you want to speak now and end this.” I stop, waiting for her to take the offer, but she remains firm in her glare. Shrugging, I add, “So, I wish you luck. May the best person win, but I’ll warn you now, I never lose.”

Knife in hand, I step away from her, listening as she takes in a gulp of air. I revert into the shadows, taking a seat on the bottom step. Normally, I’d leave a prisoner alone for a few hours, allowing their injuries to become sore and infected between rounds. Someone would be stationed at the top of the stairs on the next-to-impossible chance they tried to escape. But with Rozelyn, I won’t leave. I don’twantto leave.

A truth that causes my stomach to flip with old emotions. Maybe part of the mental torture will be having to see me every day, knowing I claimed control over her life. The constant reminder that our old bond means nothing anymore. One year isnothingcompared to the life the Corsettis gave me.

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