Page 51 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. One (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #1)

Wren

I stay inside the empty room all night. At some point while it’s still dark outside, I wake up crying from a nightmare. The light is still on, but it barely helps with the fear.

Saturday morning, I stare out the windows, trying to figure out where I am. I can’t see much except a small front yard, a gravel driveway, and loads and loads of snow-covered trees. So probably the middle of nowhere.

Fuck.

I didn’t get much rest last night. Not only is this floor really damn uncomfortable, but it’s freezing in here. If I was in more than shorts and a flimsy tank top maybe I’d be fine, but they didn’t even give me a blanket.

Sometime in what I think is mid-morning, the door to the bedroom opens and two men step in. Well, one man and one kid who looks like he’s barely a legal adult. Panic fills my chest as they back me into a corner before grabbing my arms.

“Leave me alone,” I shout, trying to yank myself from their grasp.

It’s no use. This time, they drag me down two flights of stairs and into a dark, damp, unfinished basement. They take me into what looks like a cellar. There’s a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a stainless steel trough of some sort. It’s filled with water.

They dump me in front of it, and my knees hit the concrete floor. Pain shoots through my legs, but I try to get to my feet anyway. It’s no good—they shove me back down in a split second.

“The more you struggle,” Jordan says as he steps into the light, “the harder you’ll make it on yourself.” He taps the screen of his phone, which is on a stand with the back camera pointed this way. “How many videos do you think we’ll be able to make before I get to them? How do you think they’ll feel while they watch you almost drowning over and over again? I think they’ll feel pretty helpless.”

“Don’t,” I plead.

“Don’t almost drown you? What, you’d prefer I kill you now? No, no. They’ll be here in person for that.”

One of the men grabs my arms and yanks them behind my back. The other secures my wrists together with a zip tie, tightening it so much that it digs into my skin.

“So you don’t try to push yourself up the way you did last night,” Jordan says. Then he kneels behind me, pressing his body into mine until I’m right up against the trough.

“How could you be so cruel?” I whisper.

It’s the last thought I have before Jordan shoves my head into the freezing water. I try to twist out from underneath him, but he pushes me into the trough harder. The edge is much thinner than the tub upstairs, and the added pressure makes it dig into my body painfully.

Not struggling feels like giving up, but I didn’t miss what Jordan said. Making this harder on myself is a stupid move. So I stay still, focusing on holding my breath.

Jordan pulls me up. “You’re learning. Now look at the camera.”

I do as he says, coughing and gasping.

“Look at her,” Jordan shouts. “Soaked to the bone, freezing, and half-drowned. This is what happens when you fuck with the wrong people. I hope you learn your lesson.”

Say something. Anything to give them a clue.

I take a deep breath, already anticipating that Jordan’s going to put me back under for this. Then I say, “I’m in a house sur-”

I don’t get to finish the sentence before my head is submerged in the cold water. Jordan keeps a tight grip on my hair, holding me underwater for longer than before. My lungs start to burn as my body is overcome with the desperate need to breathe anything in.

Just as I’m beginning to wonder if Jordan changed his mind and he’s going to kill me now, he pulls me up. Relief floods me as I take in as much air as I can.

Three more times he shoves my head under water, keeping me there until my body is so deprived of oxygen, I feel dizzy.

“Put her back in her room,” Jordan says, standing and letting me go.

I sway, but before I fall, his men are dragging me to my feet. They take me upstairs and lock me away, leaving me shivering and dripping onto the floor. At least they cut the zip tie off my wrists before they go.

So cold.

In the bathroom, I do my best to squeeze as much water out of my hair as possible. Then I wring out my clothes before putting them back on. I’d take them off to let them air dry, but I don’t want Jordan or his men walking in on me naked.

I curse myself for putting on such little clothing yesterday. And then I rack my brain, trying to find any memory of last night. Did I leave the apartment without Finn? Or did someone break in? I have no idea.

My body aches, and I feel a little lightheaded. Plus I’m fucking starving. I didn’t eat after work, so all I’ve had in the past day was the granola bar I scarfed down on my way to work yesterday morning.

Water. I should drink water.

My only option is from the bathroom sink. It tastes different from what I’m used to, like it’s well water, not city water.

How far from home am I?

I glance out the windows. It’s snowing.

I bury my face in my hands. Even if I managed to get away, it’s freezing out there. I don’t even have shoes, let alone a coat. I’d probably die from exposure in a matter of hours, especially considering I’m soaked. Hell, it probably wouldn’t even take that long.

Pushing the thought away, I focus on getting warm. All I want to do is huddle in a corner and cry, but instead I head into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Then I lock the door and strip.

The water is warm, and I sigh in relief as I stand under the spray. Eventually, my goosebumps fade and my shivering stops. I’m still lightheaded, but I attribute that more to a lack of food than anything else.

It’s hard to keep my hair from getting more wet, but I manage okay. When I turn off the water and step out of the shower, I realize I don’t have anything to dry off with.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I try to wipe off as much water as I can before pulling my clothes back on. Then I step back into the bedroom, immediately regretting it. The bathroom warmed up significantly from the shower, and stepping into the main room feels like I’m inside the walk-in cooler at work.

I hear someone at the door and freeze. Not again. Not this soon.

It opens, and the kid from earlier slips through. He looks at me in a way that, strangely, reminds me of Rhett.

I wish he was here, I think, blinking back tears.

“I can’t help you escape,” the kid says, twisting a blanket nervously in his hands. “Jordan would kill me. But this—I think I can get away with this.”

I stare at him. He looks so young. How did he get involved in this kind of life? “How old are you?”

“Just turned nineteen last week.” He tosses the blanket onto the floor next to me. “And if anyone asks, I’m not the one who gave that to you.”

A deep voice calls out from downstairs. “Andrew?”

His eyes go wide. “Gotta go.”

The door closes, and I hear the lock sliding back into place. I grab the blanket and wrap it around my shoulders, doing my best to ease the tightening in my chest. But it’s no use.

You could’ve left it unlocked, I want to yell. You could’ve given me a chance.

Then I shake my head. He’s just a kid—he’s doing the best he can. I want out of here, but I don’t want Andrew to get himself killed trying to help me, either.

They’ll come for me. I know they’ll come for me.

The thought is meant to soothe me, but all it does is make my eyes fill with tears again.

I know they’ll find me.

That’s not the question.

The question is when they’ll realize they need to.