Page 31 of Doxed
Small streams of light flicker through the room as the branches sway in the wind and I stretch in my bed with a smile on my face. I can’t remember the last time i was so thoroughly fucked and I feel amazing. I came in and showered last night and then fell into a deep sleep.
After washing my face, I dress in a soft sweatshirt and lounge shorts to head downstairs for breakfast. But as I open my door, I hear unfamiliar voices softly drift up from downstairs. Miles has never had company other than Mason, and neither of those voices belongs to him.
On soft feet, I make my way down the stairs, but as soon as my feet are visible from the kitchen, the talking stops.
I continue the rest of the way down and see two men in nice suits are standing at the island with three very large men standing a distance behind them, and I’ve been around enough powerful people to know that these men are wealthy and powerful and the muscle behind them are their bodyguards.
They leer at me, their eyes are glued to me and traveling down my body in a way I know all too well.
Quietly clearing my throat, I take the last few steps at my normal pace and head for the kitchen with my head high. Miles said he’s a hacker and obviously it pays well, so these must be some of his clients.
“Friends of yours?” I ask, rounding the island where Miles is and reaching to open a cabinet next to the sink.
“No.” He uncrosses his arms, dropping them to his side.
“They’re just picking something up.” Miles moves to my side, his hands clasping around my upper arm tightly.
With wide eyes, I drop my other arm, abandoning my bowl still in the cabinet and looking up into his stormy pistachio eyes.
Opening my mouth, I start to ask what he’s doing when he interrupts me.
“You need to know why I’m doing this.” His other hand wraps around my arm, his fingertips digging in painfully.
I shake my head, confused. “Doing what?”
Miles licks his lips. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he calmly asks, like he already knows the answer but needs it confirmed.
“Remember you from where?” My brows scrunch together.
“From the courtroom. When your dad was sentenced for killing my parents.” My arms ache where Miles is squeezing my skin, leaving bruises I’m sure, but I don’t notice as my world spins, taking my head with it.
The pale yellow walls and rich brown wood tables and Judge’s bench.
The Judge’s white hair and the gray speckled carpet.
I looked anywhere but at my father while he sat at the witness stand.
I tried to block everything out, but the one thing that always stayed in the back of my mind was the boy sitting on the opposite side of the aisle, his short brown hair and his teary green eyes.
If looks could kill, my father would have been gone long before the trial started, because while I never once looked at my father, the boy never looked away from him. Miles never looked away from him.
That’s where I recognized his name from. From my father’s DUI manslaughter trial.
My mind is like a raging storm, so many questions swirling around at high speeds, making me dizzy and confused. Why am I here? Who are these men? Why has Miles kept this from me?
A sense of calm seems to wash over Miles, his facial features softening to a state that I’ve never seen. “I can’t do it,” he sighs, almost whispering, and my body jerks to the side as I feel a stinging sensation in my neck.
My head snaps to see what pricked me, and one bodyguard stands beside us with a syringe in his hand. I turn to look at Miles again, his hands still holding onto me like steel bands, and I understand.
He never saved me, only held me hostage here until he could sell me off himself.
“You son of a bitch,” I croak, black spots slowly creeping in from the outer edges of my vision. My knees turn to jelly as my legs lose their strength, but Miles holds me up, his eyes burning into mine.
“I’m not anyone’s son anymore,” he says as I lose consciousness.
I hope I never wake up.