Page 4

Ares

Consciousness crept back to me like a thief, slow and unwelcome. I had no idea how much time had passed. Every time my owner entered the room, the pain became so bad I couldn’t handle it. More than once, I’d passed out only to awaken alone and in the dark. Had it only been days since I’d been brought here? Weeks? I didn’t even know where here was. I’d been drugged before my owner came to claim me and had no way of knowing if I even remained in Alabama.

The chill of the concrete floor seeped through my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the pain throbbing in my head. No matter how hard I strained to see my surroundings, the darkness held on stubbornly, offering only shadows cast by a flickering light somewhere above me. I tried to lift my hands to my face, to wipe away the grogginess, but they wouldn’t move. Panic clawed at my throat as I felt the bite of rope digging into my wrists.

“Damnit,” I hissed under my breath, twisting my arms in an attempt to assess how much give I had. Not much. The familiar burn of abraded skin began to flare as I worked against my bindings, memories of a past I had fought so hard to overcome flashing in my mind. Until now, my owner hadn’t tied me up like this. Was this a new way of torturing me?

“Think, Ares, think,” I muttered to myself, forcing my breathing to slow, to keep the terror at bay. They’d gotten to me once when I was just a kid, but I wasn’t that helpless child anymore. I’d already survived hell before, and the Dixie Reapers had made sure I knew how to protect myself. Maybe someone should have taught me how to escape ropes.

The rough hemp of the rope seemed to mock me, tightening its grip as I struggled. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony down my arms, but surrender wasn’t in my blood. With each twist, with each pull, I poured all my fear and fury into the fight against my restraints. I appeared to be in my usual room. More of a cage really, even if it didn’t have bars to contain me.

“Come on,” I encouraged myself, the words barely a whisper, drowned out by the pounding in my skull. “You’ve survived worse.”

I shifted, trying to find some leverage, any weakness in the knots that bound me. But the ropes were relentless, unyielding. My heart hammered in my chest. I needed to get out, to get back to my family. They’d be looking for me, Prophet especially. His face flashed in my mind’s eye, stern yet caring, and I clung to the image like a lifeline. If anyone would come for me, I knew it would be him. All he needed was a direction, and he’d track me down. Of that, I had no doubt.

The entire club would turn the world upside down if they had to. I just had to hold on, to survive until then. Because this was not where my story ended. Not in some dimly lit room at the hands of monsters who thought they could use me however they pleased. Whatever it took, I had to stay alive.

The door creaked open with a groan that seemed to echo my dread. A tall, thin man slithered into the room. Dressed all in black, he blended with the shadows. He had a chilling presence -- his eyes, those cold chips of ice, found mine in the gloom and held them captive. The first few times someone had come in here, I’d been blindfolded. The others, it had been pitch-black and I hadn’t been able to see more than shadows. Not that it had stopped the bastard from doing what he wanted.

“Ah, Ares,” he cooed. A shiver raced down my spine. The tone of his voice alone was enough to tell me if there had ever been any humanity in this man, it was long gone. And his voice… I’d never forget it for as long as I lived. “You look… uncomfortable.”

I squirmed under his gaze, the raw fear skittering through me. But I wasn’t about to let him see me crack, not even as his lips curled into a satisfied smirk at my predicament. Sick bastard was loving this. I tried not to think of all the things he’d done to me already. Part of me wanted to curl up and hide, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Bet you’re feeling all tied up right about now,” he taunted, pacing in front of me like a vulture ready to feast on carrion. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t make a smartass remark. I had a feeling doing so would be really bad for me right now. “But don’t worry, my dear. You’ll get used to it.”

I fixed my eyes on a crack in the nearby wall. My jaw clenched so hard it ached, but the pain was good -- it reminded me I was still here, still fighting. I refused to give this man what he wanted. I wouldn’t beg for my freedom or my life. Wouldn’t yield to whatever sadistic plans he had for me. I’d fight. If I didn’t, I’d never be able to look my family in the eye again.

“Looking away won’t save you,” he whispered, leaning close enough for me to feel his breath.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, to show him the fire he hadn’t extinguished. “You don’t scare me,” I lied through gritted teeth, the words tasting like ash.

“Brave words for someone in your… predicament.” His voice made my skin crawl.

As he stepped back, his shadow seemed to stretch across the room, imprinting itself onto the walls, the ceiling, the very air around me. I wondered if he’d designed this room so that very thing would happen, making the trapped person feel as if he surrounded them.

Despite my fear, I also felt determined. I would survive this. Because somewhere out there, Prophet and the Dixie Reapers were tearing the world apart to find me. For them, for myself, I would endure. I had to. There wasn’t another option. I knew it would destroy my family and Prophet if I didn’t live long enough for them to save me.

“Go ahead,” I said, summoning every ounce of defiance I could muster. “Do your worst. You’ll see. I won’t break that easily. I haven’t yet, have I?”

His cruel smile never wavered as he turned to leave, but I caught the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there -- a crack in his armor. And that was all I needed.

With each second that ticked by in his absence, the ember of resolve within me began to fade. I knew I needed to fight back, but I didn’t know how much more I could endure. I had no idea how long I’d been gone. Had several days passed since I’d been kidnapped? Weeks? There was no telling how long I’d been unconscious. I knew from experience they could keep me knocked out for weeks if that’s what they wanted.

The room dipped in and out of focus until the man returned, bringing with him a rolling cart full of items meant to torture me. They clattered ominously as he pushed the cart closer to me.

“Let’s begin,” he whispered. I could hear the delight in his voice, the pure glee that he’d make me scream. I knew I needed to hold out, but at the same time, if I never screamed, would he lose his patience and kill me? It wasn’t like I was dealing with a sane man.

I braced myself, clenching my teeth so hard I feared they might crack. The cold touch of steel traced the exposed skin of my arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. My breath hitched, but I refused to voice the pain I felt.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Another slash, sharp and precise, bit into my flesh. My body jolted involuntarily, straining against the rough ropes. Pain splintered through me, branching out to every nerve ending. But beneath it all, simmering like molten lava, was the anger -- an inferno threatening to erupt. How dare he do this to me? How many others had there been? Was I the only captive here right now? Or did he have a stable of us like my previous Master?

“Beautiful,” he murmured, studying the cuts that painted my skin like grotesque art.

I ground my teeth, swallowing the bile that rose in my throat. My thoughts spun, a maelstrom of fear and fury.

“Is this all you’ve got?” My voice trembled with the effort to remain defiant.

My Master paused, his head tilting in that unnerving way of his, as if considering a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope.

“Patience, Ares,” he cooed. “We’re only just getting started.”

Fuck. Me . I was no longer confident I could last without giving him what he wanted. While I’d become stronger in some ways since being adopted by Savior, I’d grown weak in others. The old Ares would have retreated from the pain, disappearing into her own mind. The new version of me didn’t remember how to do it.

The next onslaught came without warning. This time he’d grabbed a whip off the cart. Blows rained down, each one a brutal crescendo that left me reeling. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I hated that I was giving him one of the things I knew he wanted, but I couldn’t help it. What would Prophet think when he saw me like this? Stripped bare. Cut. Beaten. I doubted the man was going to stop here. No, he had more planned for me. I could see it in his eyes.

“Still holding on?” Master taunted, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re more resilient than I gave you credit for.”

His tongue flicked out to lick the shell of my ear and I fought hard not to throw up. I could see his hard cock outlined in his pants and knew he was getting off on this. If I were lucky, my pain would be enough to make him come. And if I wasn’t… I didn’t even want to think of what would happen to me.

“Stronger than you’ll ever be,” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed then, a sound devoid of any humanity, and continued his cruel work. I retreated within myself, building walls around my mind to shield it from the relentless assault. It had been so long I was out of practice. The walls would crack, and he’d reach me. Then I’d rebuild, stronger than the last time.

I heard the clink of his belt and knew what would happen next. I closed my eyes and forced myself to slip away. It was the only way I’d survive what he did next.

* * *

In the suffocating stillness of the dimly lit room, I lay sprawled on the cold floor, every breath a battle, every heartbeat a rebellion. Master had left, confident he’d broken me. He didn’t know me -- not truly. He saw someone to own, to crush. He didn’t know I’d been through this before, and I had a reason to survive this time.

He’d left me unbound, and for good reason. I didn’t think I would be able to easily sit up, much less try to escape. My blood dripped onto the floor. Every part of me ached, and I fought back tears. I’d never voluntarily been with anyone before, and I’d been looking forward to Prophet claiming me in every way possible.

Now I felt dirty again. Unworthy of someone like Prophet. I knew he wouldn’t turn away from me. He wasn’t that type. If anything, he’d probably blame himself for what happened to me. I didn’t know how he’d make this his fault, but he would. It was just the sort of man he was, and I loved him for it.

I’d been so frustrated with him for a while. Until the day he’d saved me. I’d opened myself up to exploring the possibility of a future relationship with him at that point. We’d grown closer, even though he was always respectful, mindful of the fact I hadn’t been eighteen until recently.

I groaned and struggled to sit upright. Leaning against the wall, every breath felt like it might destroy me. I gingerly touched my ribs, wondering if he’d broken any. I winced and looked down, seeing the bruises covering my body.

Drawing my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and dropped my head. How many more times would the Master come to visit me?

I lifted my head, resolve filling me. No matter how much it hurt, I had to push through. I managed to stand, swaying as dizziness threatened to claim me. The world tilted and spun, but I willed it to steady. I wouldn’t succumb to weakness -- not now.

Cautious steps took me to the door, my limbs protesting with the echo of recent torment. Yet, as I reached for the handle, a new kind of fear gripped me. The unknown lay beyond. What if something worse was on the other side?

I thought of my dad. Dessa and the kids. I needed to survive. To escape. I turned the handle and stepped into the abyss, ready to face whatever hell awaited me in the quest for my freedom. Or so I thought.

The corridor stretched before me, an unending tunnel of dim light and deeper shadows. Each step was tentative, as I feared I’d give myself away and be discovered. My mouth went dry and I licked my lips. I needed to keep quiet and keep moving. No matter what I saw or heard, I couldn’t stop.

My eyes flicked from one closed door to another, seeking signs of life -- or rather, the lack of it. I heard a few whimpers, and wondered if they belonged to women like me. Stolen from their families, sold by monsters.

A shiver ran down my spine as I sidestepped a patch of light. For all I knew, someone was watching me, waiting in the darkness. Maybe they were enjoying my attempt at an escape, laughing at my pathetic effort to free myself.

In the darkness, my fingers found the cool metal of a doorknob, hope surging momentarily before I turned it and met resistance. Locked. A stifled groan escaped my throat as I leaned against the unyielding wood, the weight of despair momentarily crushing. I should have known. Why else would he have left me untied and in an unlocked room? He’d known I wouldn’t get far.

The urge to panic was like a living thing inside me, clawing at my resolve.

With every shallow breath, I fought to quell the terror threatening to overwhelm me. I pressed my ear against the door, straining to hear anything beyond the thudding of my own pulse. Silence. Perhaps it was a cruel trick of hope, but silence was an invitation I had to accept.

I stepped back, surveying the hallway for anything, anything that could aid in my escape. My gaze fell upon a heavy-looking vase perched on a pedestal. Without a second thought, I grasped it, the weight reassuring in my hands. If I couldn’t unlock the door, maybe I could break through it somehow -- or at least cause enough noise to summon an opportunity out of the ensuing chaos. I didn’t know how many women were held captive down here – or how many men they might send to check on any disturbance, but that was a gamble I was willing to take. I’d bash whoever came through over the head with the vase.

“Prophet,” I whispered, “I’m still fighting. Please come get me.” My legs gave out and I collapsed on the floor, leaning my head back against the wall to wait. Closing my eyes, I wondered how close the club was to finding me. Had Wire managed to locate me with his hacking skills? Was the club outside this place right now, just waiting to bust in and get me out of here?

Or was I lost? Would my captors find me and punish me?

My heart ached and tears slipped down my cheeks.

The door opened and I looked up, seeing my Master and another man. The stronger of the two lifted me over his shoulder and carried me back to my prison. The light in Master’s eyes was enough warning to know this would be a long night full of pain and suffering. Closing my eyes again, I had to wonder if I really could survive until the club rescued me… or if this man was the one who would finally break me.