Page 5

The rough brick of concrete scraped my cheek when I came to. The chloroform had left my mouth cotton-dry and my thoughts fuzzy around the edges.

I had been taken.

Alarm hit my soul, making my pulse spike and my heart ricochet. Someone had stolen me right out of my office like it was nothing.

I fought the urge to panic and mentally counted down from ten, using some of the meditating methods I’d learned in therapy.

Ten… nine… eight… seven…

My breathing stabilized, and my thoughts went from shuffling to focusing on what this could mean for me. There were two reasons for my kidnapping. Either I was being trafficked, or my men had enemies in high places.

Fear tried to grip my chest again, but I began counting. After taking deep breaths, I stilled as much as possible, kept my eyes closed, and listened.

There were three distinct voices, all of them male. Nearby, heavy footsteps paced, slapping across the floor in marching strides. Mildew and oil mixed with the scent of salt water and rust was making my nostrils burn.

“... should’ve grabbed her days ago...”

“...waiting for the right moment...”

“...send the message soon...”

The voices came from different directions. They weren’t the same professionals that grabbed me. At least not the kind I was used to. These men moved too loudly and spoke too freely. Nothing like the deadly silence that followed my men.

My wrists were bound behind my back with zip ties, but they hadn’t bothered to bind my feet. I shifted slightly, testing the restraints. The plastic dug into my skin, but I’d learned a thing or two living with three hitmen.

The memory of Titan teaching me to escape restraints flooded back. His hands were on my wrists, his voice low in my ear:

“Rock your hands back and forth, Santari. Create space, then snap down hard.”

The memory of his touch sent heat racing through me even in this odd moment. The way Titan’s fingers would grip my wrists, teaching me where to apply pressure and how to twist just right to break free made heat trail down my skin.

My nipples hardened in spite of my situation.

Everything about that man lit me up like a forest fire.

I imagined those dark brown eyes promising violence as soon as he found out I was gone.

He and Cruz were probably tearing the streets up looking for me – while Storm was running sequences on the internet like a spider web trying to find me.

“Check on her.” Footsteps approached, snapping me from my thoughts.

I kept my breathing steady, playing unconscious. A hand grabbed my shoulder, rolling me onto my back. The movement gave me the leverage I needed. I snapped my hands down hard against my lower back, feeling the zip tie crack.

My eyes flew open as I drove my knee up into the man’s groin. He doubled over with a grunt, and I slammed my forehead into his nose. Blood sprayed across my face, hot and thick. The feeling sent surprising arousal straight to my pussy.

“Fuck!”

I scrambled to my feet, taking in my surroundings. High ceilings and wooden beams were overhead. Shipping containers were stacked against far walls. Two more suits blocked the only visible exit, but there had to be others. There were always other exits.

The one I’d hit staggered up with rage twisting his features. Blood poured from his nose, staining his white collar. These weren’t street thugs – they wore tailored suits and expensive watches. Someone was paying good money for this operation.

“You little bitch.”

I bared my teeth in a feral grin as my fight or flight kicked up a notch. “Is that the best you got?”

The first punch came fast, but I ducked, letting his fist crush into the stone wall behind me.

“Ooooooou you little bitch!”

His howl of pain ignited my arousal - the sound making my pussy throb. It was the same reaction I got from watching Titan hurt people at the club who dared to touch me.

But the other two were on me before I could bolt. They slammed me face-first against the wall. One grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. The other pressed close, his expensive cologne making me want to gag.

“Not bad for a professor’s pet.” His hot, stank breath was on my neck. “But playtime’s over.”

A dark, ominous laugh escaped me, and the captors didn’t know it, but I frightened myself at the sound of it. “You have no idea who I belong to.”

The hand in my hair tightened. “Oh, but I do. And your boyfriend can’t help you here.”

Hearing his response let me know a few things: I was not being trafficked, these were my men’s enemies, and whoever was running this operation hadn’t told the bastards they’d hired to do their dirty work exactly who my men were—The Paradox.

“You mean, boyfriendssss .” I pushed back against their hold. “And you’re wrong about a few things – the men coming for me are my kings. You just declared war on their kingdom. And you’ll be the one who needs help when they arrive.”

The one holding my hair pushed my forehead into the wall. “Shut up, bitch.”

“Make me.” I slammed my head back, hearing the cartilage in his nose crunch under my headbang.

“Aaaaah you fuckin’ cunt!”

His grip loosened, and I spun around, landing a solid kick to his partner’s knee. The crack was satisfying. These men were strong, but they didn’t have the training my lovers did.

The third one, however, the one whose nose I’d broken – caught me with a backhand that sent me sliding across the floor.

My vision blurred as he stalked over to me, grabbed my throat, lifted me like a dangling rag doll, and pinned me to the wall.

His fingers dug into my flesh, and for a moment, I saw stars.

“Enough!” He squeezed. “You want to play rough? Fine. But remember… you asked for this.”

I met his eyes, refusing to show fear. Instead, I was powered by my need to survive, and the same hunger I saw in my men’s eyes before they took a life was the same way I felt – thirsty for blood.

“Look at you.” He shook me. “You think your bravery will save you? It won’t. You’re a caged bird.”

“Your men aren’t coming no matter what you say. At least not until we summon them into the trap that you’re going to help us provide.” He released my throat, stepping back.

“I’m not helping you do shit, motherfucker.”

“As if you have a choice.”

A new zip tie was produced and tied around my wrists – tighter this time. He shoved me toward a metal chair. They weren’t taking chances after my little display.

The chair was bolted to the floor—industrial strength type shit. Someone had planned this part carefully, but the difference between their amateur handling and the professional setup nagged at me.

Blood dripped from my split lip as they secured me, and instead of pain, I felt arousal spike through me.

I could recognize a transformation brewing.

Before Titan, Cruz, and Storm, violence turned my stomach, or at least I’d indoctrinated myself with that belief for so long that I naturally believed it.

Now, violence made me wet, as was apparent by the way my pussy thumped.

Deep down, a revelation was rising – I’d always wanted to let my sinful nature spill into the world.

Holding back never felt as natural as letting go.

I remembered the first time I saw Titan truly unleash his sin. The way his muscles rippled as he broke a man’s jaw for touching me. How he’d pushed me against the wall after, his dick hard against my ass as he growled “mine” in my ear.

“Stop fucking smiling.” The one with the broken nose snapped, drawing me back to the present. Blood still stained his shirt.

“Why? Scared?”

His hand whipped across my face, and pain throbbed in my head. I grimaced and locked my jaw, holding steady as the sting magnified before slowly subsided.

Through the grimy windows, I caught glimpses of more shipping containers, and seagulls could be heard nearby. Every detail was a breadcrumb for when my men came hunting.

One suit who stood in the background watching pressed a burner phone to his ear. “She’s awake.” A pause. “No, she’s...feistier than expected.” Another pause. “Understood.”

I tracked their movements as they talked in low voices. The one I’d kneed in the groin limped severely. The one with the broken nose kept touching his face. The third one continued to wail and moan from me cracking his leg.

They thought they had me under control, tied to this chair like a sacrifice. But they didn’t understand what I’d become. Living with three killers changed you. It opened doors in your mind that you locked long ago.

The sun was setting through the dirty glass, and somewhere out there, Titan was hunting, Cruz was connecting the dots, and Storm was zeroing in. The thought sent shivers down my spine. They would come for me with fire in their veins and death in their hands.

I shifted in the chair, testing my bonds. The zip ties were tight, but not impossible. I could feel the plastic digging into my wrists, creating raw patches that would make escape harder.

“You really think they’ll find you?” The uninjured one who watched us asked, lighting a cigarette. The flame pulled me into another zone. It reminded me of how Titan played with fire and how much I wanted to know why. “This place isn’t on any map.”

“They don’t need maps.” I met his gaze steadily. “They just need to follow the pussy ass niggas walking around like they own shit.”

He blew smoke in my face. I didn’t flinch. “Those are some big words from a woman tied to a chair.”

“As are the words coming from a dead man walking.”

Slap!

The sting settled in my jaw, and I grimaced again, but seeing the fear in his eyes was worth it. These men were used to victims who cried and begged. They didn’t know what to do with someone who smiled through the pain.

Hours passed. The sun sank completely, leaving us in shadow, broken only by harsh fluorescent lights. My captors took shifts watching me, but their attention wavered. They were getting tired and sloppy.

I kept testing the restraints, working the plastic against my raw skin. Kept logging details – the limp of the injured one was growing worse. The broken-nose guy’s breathing whistled. The third one’s moans were now whimpers as he sat balled up against the wall.

I could almost feel them, my men out there, that primal energy that made them such perfect predators, layering me like a blanket. Titan would come with Cruz and Storm, three horsemen bringing apocalypse to anyone who got in their way when getting to me.

But I wouldn’t wait helplessly. I’d show them I belonged in their world of shadow and blood.

My thoughts drifted to Storm. He liked to call me princess, which I adored. But when I’d asked why not call me a queen, he’d said:

“Queens have power, but they also have responsibilities. Princesses get to do whatever the fuck they want.”

I loved his explanation, but at this moment, I recognized that I wanted the responsibility of a queen and the privilege of a princess congruently.

I’d show him I deserved it – I’d show them that their queen had claws of her own.