Chapter 6: Lena

When I wake up, I'm alone in a room. I'm naked, blood of my victims still on me. I want to vomit my head hurts so much. I have no weapons even though that doesn't make me helpless. But it leaves me vulnerable.

I drop a hand between my legs, check for soreness, inflammation, violation. Nothing. I'm not sure if I'm relieved by this. I assume I've been kept alive for a reason and that, eventually, they'll fuck me before killing me. It might have been better if they'd gotten it over with while I was unconscious.

There is a bathroom off the room I am in. Small and dirty, but it has a shower. I use the toilet, then turn on the shower, letting the trickle of cold water wash the blood off me. There's no towel, no soap, but I am better without the blood. A small mirror shows the bruises on my face. When I was slapped by one of the kidnappers, then the punch to my temple, bruising the side of my cheek. I'm thirsty and try to scoop water from the tap into my hand and up to my mouth. A little gets in and I feel better for it.

Then there is nothing to do but wait. And I do, for days. After the first day, when hunger starts to cause a voracious ache in my belly, I try to tentatively call through the door, then as the day wanes I bang and shout. I search for escape, but there is none. No windows, nothing, just the thick, immovable door.

I am starting to despair that they have forgotten about me when the door is finally unbolted. I have lost track of time; the single bare light in the ceiling burns a dull yellow all the time. I think maybe two or three days have passed. I'm hungry, thirsty and feel fear again. Something that I had lost when I was taken by Manuel, because he gave me a warm home with unlimited food, a private bedroom and the knowledge that I wouldn't be molested. But now the fear is back, because Manuel is dead and I don't know where I am or what's going to happen to me.

Two men enter the room. Luis and his cousin, Arturo, who is holding a length of chain. Luis is not afraid of me, never has been. Maybe he underestimates my skills, or maybe I underestimate his. "Stand up," he says coldly.

I obey.

"I'm sorry I failed to protect Manuel." As soon as the words leave my mouth I'm rewarded with a sharp slap to my cheek. Hard enough to rock me back on my feet, but I don't react otherwise.

"You let him die." His voice is seething. I hear the grief and anger. "You don't get to speak his name."

I realize in that moment that my days are numbered. That I won't survive whatever he has planned for me. I do nothing to defend myself. The truth is that Luis is Manuel's only son. Luis, who is as strong, deadly and cruel as his father. He steps into his father's shoes now. He owns everything, including me. I have no defense against him unless I kill him. And that too would be a death sentence. My desire to live is strong though, maybe stronger than his desire to see me dead. He'll fuck up eventually, and I'll be ready.

Luis' eyes flicker toward Arturo who is watching me hungrily, his gaze travelling my naked body. Disgust churns in my stomach. Arturo is a pig. He helped himself to Manuel's female product, breaking more women than I can count. Once they were used up and useless, they'd be sold or discarded. He was family though, would only get a hand slap for playing too rough with the merchandise. I've seen him in action, I don't want him touching any part of me. Don't know if I can stop myself from fighting back if he tries.

"Chain her," Luis commands. I automatically balk, stepping back. If they tie me down, I can't fight effectively if I need to. Luis pulls his gun and points it at my head. "Fight him and I'll kill you."

He's deadly serious. Every line of his body begs me to fight, to give him a reason. As Arturo approaches, and puts his hands on my cold, naked skin, I think about fighting. Think about finishing this here and now. Giving Luis what he wants and saving myself the suffering he clearly has planned. A bullet will be faster and more dignified.

But I can't do it. If my survival instincts weren't strong, I would've died years ago. Murdered by the men who took me when my family couldn't pay Bratva protection for their small shop. I'd been left to rot in a Russian whorehouse, but I'd fought the men wildly every time they came near me. I was too dangerous to keep with the other women, so I'd been beaten severely and sold. Manuel recognized defensive wounds when he saw them and must have seen something in them that he thought would make me a good bodyguard. He bought me, cleaned me up, had his security teach me how to fight and put me to work.

I knew one day I would make a mistake, fail. Everyone makes mistakes. In a way, since I entered Manuel's organization, I'd been waiting for this.

Arturo handles me roughly as he wraps the chain around my neck, locks it tight against my skin, barely allowing me space to breath. The length is left to drape down between my breasts. He pulls a set of handcuffs from his back pocket and, cuffing my wrists together, locks them to the chain. He grabs the chain, close to my neck and jerks it toward the floor. The movement is so sudden I hit the concrete floor hard, scraping my knees. I bite back a cry and allow him to bend me in half until my cheek is pressed to the floor. He kneels on my lower back as he attaches the chain to a ring in the floor. I have just enough room to push myself up on my hands and knees.

Arturo is enjoying this. I don't believe he gave a shit about his dead uncle. He enjoys my suffering because he enjoys making women suffer. In particular, he wants me to suffer. The one woman he couldn't touch, not while Manuel was alive, the one who taunted him by my mere presence.

I tense as Arturo positions himself behind me, reaching for his zipper. I want to fight, know I can do some serious damage, even in this degrading position. But if I do, if I manage to hurt him, then they'll hurt me worse. Maybe break some bones, make sure I can't fight back when I really need to. I'm going to have to take it, let him fuck me. I harden my heart, preparing for the vicious assault.

But it doesn't come.

"Arturo," Luis snaps, his voice sharp. I feel Arturo shift behind me, stop what he's doing as he looks questioningly at his cousin, now his boss. "Leave."

"But…" Arturo complains, his grip on my hip tightening. He clearly doesn't want to let go of his prize.

"Out, now."

Arturo grumbles something inaudible but likely insulting and stands, zipping his pants as he walks to the door and slams out.

I try to feel relief. But somehow being left alone with Luis, a man who has hated and resented me from the beginning feels worse. I try to calm my breathing, pace myself. Luis is going to hurt me, probably do some damage. I need to get through it and then find a way out.

"Look at me," Luis demands, coming to stand in front of me.

My gaze falls on his shoes. They are nice shoes but scuffed from use. I look up, past his long legs, his trim waist. He wears a suit, fitted perfectly to his powerful frame. He's wearing his father's mantle as though born to it. Which, of course, he has been. When my eyes finally land on his face, terror shoots through me. Despite his comfort in taking over for his father, grief still grips him, etching its mark into his handsome, rugged face. That grief makes him dangerous. Because he blames me.

He crouches down in front of me, so close that his knee brushes my chin as he comes down to my level. I manage to suppress a flinch, but just barely. He takes hold of my throat, his strong fingers clenching into the flesh, squeezing painfully until he cuts off most of my breath. I can feel his father's cartel ring dig into my skin, cutting the flesh. He puts his face near mine, a few inches above. I see the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes, the smoothness of his long black hair. I also see the intense hatred burning in his gaze, followed closely by utter satisfaction as he takes in my position, naked and chained to the floor and completely at his mercy.

"You belong to me," he says, so softly that if our faces weren't so close, I wouldn't have heard him. "I'm going to fuck you, hurt you, break you. And then I'm going to kill you."