Page 170 of One Nightstand With My Ex's Uncle

EMILY’S POV.

“Here.” One of the men said, handing my hair to Lopez like it was some trophy. I stared at it. My hair…

I didn’t know how to feel about it. I had prized my hair for years, growing it, taking care of it, and cherishing it, but in a second, it was all gone.

“The next thing I’ll be sending to John will have blood on it. This is just a warning. I don’t want to have to mutilate you” Lopez said, stroking the hair that had been cut from my head. “Bind her more securely, and take her out for dinner.” He ordered, taking his leave, and my hair with him.

The men pushed me off my knees to the floor, and I was held down as the ropes were taken off my legs, then replaced with shackles, but with enough space to walk.

The same was done for my hand. I could spread them apart a little.

They helped me get to my feet, and I followed them slowly, feeling my heart pound wickedly in my chest. What would he take next?

My eye? Ear? Tongue? Would he jump straight to my finger?

Cold tears gathered in my eyes, as I was pushed from the back.

“Faster, lady.” A man growled, and I tried to increase my pace, without tripping.

I walked out onto a long corridor, and over the railing, I could see a large living room, having almost everything in brown—the chairs, the tables, the floor, the walls, the curtains…

Mr. Lopez sat, speaking with a blonde man who seemed to be French. They laughed, and seemed to be jolly good friends, but it was definitely business.

“What you starin’ at? Move it.” One of the men snapped, shoving me forwards. My shackled legs couldn’t deal with the pace at which I was forced to move, so I fell, and there was a sharp as hell pain in my wrist.

“Ahh!” I let out softly, trying to hold the pain in, and ignore the tears that came to my eyes.

Dragged by my hair, I was forced to my feet, and shoved forwards again. Luckily, there was a wall I could crash against. Going down the stairs was the hardest, and I prayed fiercely, and silently that they wouldn’t shove me.

I got down the stairs safely, and saw a long line of people. Mostly ladies, and a few guys. They were shackled just like me, and had trays with empty dishes in their arms.

They noticed me, and stared at me, taking in my look from up to down. I was shoved forwards once more, and a tray landed in my hands.

“End o’ the line. Move it, girl!”

I tried my best to walk quickly, while taking tiny steps, so he wouldn’t shove me anymore, but luckily, he didn’t follow.

Men in suits lined every door, and stood at random positions, looking every bit menacing. All of them sported a short, jagged scar next to their left eye, and I reckoned it was some kind of symbol, a tag to prove they were for Lopez.

I stood at the end of the line, and Lopez waved at me; I noticed the large tattoo running along the sleeve of his arm.

Looking away in fear, I turned to the woman in front of me.

A few more people joined me at the back, and the line moved slowly. It suddenly reminded me of being back at school, lining up for the school lunch.

“New?” The lady behind me whispered when we had made it into a large room where food was being served by cooks with stiffened faces.

“Yes. I was kidnapped.” I said, softly, feeling my eyes fill up. “I should have just stayed home.” I whispered to myself.

“Everyone wished that, but some of us were taken from our homes.” The woman in front of me said.

“What…” I broke off, scared of the question I was about to ask. “happens here?”

“A lot, girl. A lot.” The woman behind me said. “Lopez is a ruthless Italian who kidnaps important people to whoever offends him. He also carries out requests too—requests to abduct someone, assassinate people.”

“What?” I whispered in shock.

The woman in front of me moved forwards, and we also moved forwards.

“He sells body organs too. Kidnapping and harvesting organs. There was a day he played a video for us, laughing to scare us. He had torn a lady inside out, ruthlessly, and with an helicopter, had dropped her on the roof of her mother, who loved her very much. Then he took the video of the girl on the roof, and sent it to the media, framing the mother for her death.”

The other one added, “Then he tells us we’ll be next, so when it’s call time, we’re to beg and plead like our lives depend on it because our lives really do.”

“What is call time?”

“Five minutes with whoever has to give something to get you out. The last time I got call time, I literally cried blood. My brother says he’s gathering money.

Lopez demands way too much, but me? I’ve already given up on hope.

Not much is going to improve for me.” She replied, and I could see she was only trying to be strong.

When our turns came, we were served dinner, and joined the numerous captives at the table, at a spot where Lopez could watch us.

“Oh my sweet Madeline! Ronnie’s here.” Lopez suddenly bellowed, clapping.

A girl stood up at the table, with her mouth full of rice, and tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Come on, run to him!” Lopez shouted, and she ditched the table, and ran, her hair flying behind her like black silk.

She ran into the arms of a guy who looked quite young. I could be older.

They embraced, and she began to cry.

“I guess I won’t be seeing your pretty face anymore, right? Ronnie has paid off your debt. Bye, bye!” He said, with a smile.

“Thank you, Lopez. For keeping your word.” The man said.

“I’m a man of my word. That’s my only problem. I do what I say every time.” Lopez replied, and the guy hugged his Madeline once more, before leading her out.

She turned back just once, and waved. A few people waved back at her, with tears in her eyes, and I could imagine the sadness she felt—having to leave them behind, having to survive alone.

“You all had better beg like Madeline once it’s call time, so your boyfriends can save you.” Lopez laughed manically.

Seeing the guy come to save Madeline reminded me of Lucas, and the dream I had of him. Him coming to save me would be dreams coming true for me.

I stuck my spoon into the molded up rice, and took it to my mouth, hoping I didn’t have to lose a finger like the girl opposite me, whose thumb and pinky were missing, and wrapped in bandages. She looked quite cheerful for someone who had lost two fingers—Two important fingers.

~

Later that night, I slept with three other woman I didn’t know. Two looked like they could be mothers, and the last one looked like she was barely nineteen.

We all lay in silence, staring at the ceiling, and shortly, the door opened, bringing three men in.

They all looked at me and smiled.

“Hey newbie. The hair looks good on you.” One of them said, walking towards me.

“Move.” Another said, and the three women scampered away, huddling together at the corner of the room.

I sat up, alarmed, and the third one sat next to me.

“Beautiful.” He said, in a husky voice, right before his hand cupped my breast!