FOUR
Logan
Grogginess gave way to a faint warmth. My eyelids fluttered open, my mind grappling with what had happened. I didn’t know how long I was out.
Then I felt the soft weight pressing down on me, hair tickling my neck.
There she was, Kaylan, draped over me, her breath steady against the crook of my neck, her face buried beside me. For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of this warmth, this semblance of human touch I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. Her body against mine.
But then, the harsh truth sliced through the comforting veil of drowsiness. She was the enemy. A traitor who had watched me suffer, who stood by Garret Tyson’s side. My mind warred with the reality of her kindness against her betrayals. How could the person providing me solace be the same one aligned with my tormentor?
Still, I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her bare form. She wasn’t wearing any t-shirt. Covered in just a white bra and tiny black shorts. It was time that I drank her in, caressing the soft curves of her body.
She squirmed under my touch and a faint moan escaped her lips that had my cock throbbing.
Lord, forgive me. I’m craving the enemy.
She moved and our limbs entangled even further. Her leg brushed against my cock and it drew to life. I knew she was half awake at this point.
“Kaylan,” I groaned and immediately realized that this was the first time I had said her name in years. It didn’t feel strange, though. Her eyes flicked open and she looked up to meet my gaze. The heat in them had me feeling things I shouldn’t. I was sure she could see past the anger and uncover the very desire I had for her in that moment.
But then she jolted up, almost kneeing me in my balls, and climbed out of the bed. My body mourned the loss almost immediately. She averted my gaze and quickly put her t-shirt back on, constantly eyeing the door.
“Where am I?” I asked as I sat up holding my head from the sudden dizziness.
“The infirmary.” She mumbled.
I sighed and looked around. This was the first time I was in a place that wasn’t my cell or the torture chamber. There was sufficient light in here. The bright walls were lined with tables and cabinets storing God knows what. I was lying there, on the lone bed, my feet covered with a warm damp towel.
“What country are we in?” I pressed.
Her head snapped up and she looked at me with wide eyes. She stayed silent for so long that I concluded she wouldn’t tell me. Why would she?
I was a fool to think that the moment of closeness we shared affected her as much as it did me. But I was clearly wrong. She wouldn’t help me. She could never be an ally, regardless of our past occupation.
She hurried over to the cabinet behind her and snagged a bottle of pills.
“Take this if you catch a fever or start shivering again,” she handed the bottle to me and looked at the wall clock. “It’s almost 1700 central. I should leave.”
I scoffed, “Late for dinner with Garret, I presume.”
She frowned at me, but I saw a hint of pain in her eyes. She blinked and then left. Moments later, two men arrived to escort me back to my cell.
Kaylan
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
He didn’t get it! I purposely told him the time zone and he brushed past it, and jumped to anger. If he’d been listening, he’d know that we were in the central time zone. Possibly still in North America. But that was as far as I knew too. I didn’t know what country we were in either. Martha had hinted at the time zone the same way when I had arrived here.
But nobody would tell me anything beyond that.
I ran to the kitchen and sat down at the counter, burying my face in my hands. My mind drifted to Logan’s gentle touch when his hands brushed against my back. It felt as though he wanted to touch me, feel me. I remembered his hard length digging on my thigh.
I was sure I didn’t imagine that. I could weep for the way he said my name. His hoarse, seductive groan had me undone. I was so close to kissing him.
“Are you okay, miha?” Martha asked softly.
The term made my head snap up. Miha? Martha had never called me that before. It was always Kay or Kaylan. The unfamiliar word set off a cascade of thoughts, my mind spinning with hidden meanings until, absurdly, I wondered if we’d somehow ended up in Mexico.
“I’m fine, Mar,” I said, shaking my head, trying to ground myself in the moment.
She didn’t look convinced. Instead, she grabbed a glass, filled it with grape juice, and slid it across the counter toward me.
Picking it up, I smirked faintly into the glass. “I could do with something stronger.”
Martha’s expression turned stern, the kind that always made me feel like a child under her watchful eye. “You can’t,” she said firmly. Her voice softened, dropping to a whisper as though saying it aloud would make it more real. “It’s not good for… the baby.”
Her words landed like a blow. My grip tightened on the glass, and I winced, as though her hope alone could carve open wounds I’d long since buried. A baby. As if this could ever be my baby.
Even if I wanted to keep it—and God help me, I didn’t even know if I did—I knew it wasn’t in the cards. My body had never been mine. My choices had never been mine. And this? This was no different.
Martha’s pleading eyes begged for something I couldn’t give her. She deserved the truth, no matter how much it would hurt. She needed to know.
The first time I got pregnant, Garret had made sure no one knew. He made sure of a lot of things. By the time the procedure was over, I was so wrecked I couldn’t feed or even dress myself. That was the only reason Martha had known then—because she’d been the one to take care of me in those hollow, broken days afterward.
But this time? This time, no one would care. Not about the fetus. Not about me. Even if, by some impossible miracle, I wanted to keep it, I knew the truth. The choice would never be mine. It never had been.
“Can I tell you something, Mar?” I mumbled, my eyes consumed with pain and dread.
She nodded hesitantly and I asked her to come to my room in twenty minutes.
The wait felt eternal. As minutes ticked by, doubt crept in, but then Martha appeared, her steps cautious. Sitting on the edge of my bed, her innocent question pierced the heavy silence.
“What is it, Kaylan? Are you okay?” She asked so innocently. I didn’t have the heart to tell her my story. But I needed to. I needed to know if I had allies here.
“Do you want to sit?” I gestured towards my bed.
She hesitantly sat down, her fingers playing with the helm of her worn T-shirt.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then said it aloud, the words heavier than I’d expected. “I was taken, Martha. I’m not here as an employee.”
Her expression shifted—confusion first, then something softer, a kind of quiet acceptance.
She nodded slowly. “So… you’re not even a doctor?”
A sad smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Not technically, no. I’m not a licensed doctor. But I am a qualified medical practitioner. A combat medic.”
Martha didn’t speak for a long moment, the silence stretching thick between us. Her gaze drifted past me, and she nodded.
Finally, she cleared her throat, breaking the stillness. “Did I ever tell you how I came to run the kitchen?”
The question caught me off guard. “No,” I said, shaking my head.
Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes clouded with a distant pain. “I had a daughter once. Raha. It must’ve been… more than twenty years ago now.”
I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on her, waiting.
“I was alone when I had her. She was always a frail child, but she was my everything. One night, her father came back into our lives. He told me he’d take us both to his mansion. Said he’d provide for us, give Raha the life she deserved.”
Her voice wavered, and she met my gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I was so naive. I believed him. Raha was nine. The perfect age, I suppose, for that monster.”
Her tears fell freely now, but she kept speaking, her voice raw and trembling. “I woke up one morning, and Raha was gone. Her bed was empty. Her father promised to do everything to find her… if I warmed his bed and cooked for him. And I was foolish enough to agree. Months passed. Years. But Raha never came back. That liar, that bastard, he never even looked for her. Why would he? He was the one who shipped her off.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing against my chest like a stone.
“Then his son came to live in the mansion,” she continued, her voice steadier now. “Garret was nothing like his father. At least, that’s what I thought. He treated me kindly. Always polite. I thought—no, I wanted to believe he was different.”
Her gaze turned sharp, filled with anguish and accusation, and she fixed it on me. “But he’s not, is he? He’s exactly like his father.”
Her words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, cutting through the silence of years. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. My head hung low, shame pooling in the pit of my stomach.
I nodded numbly, my voice caught somewhere between my throat and my heart.
Martha’s voice softened, breaking as she whispered, “I think… I knew it. Deep down, I knew. I wanted so badly to believe he was different. He told me he wouldn’t bring women here just to use them. But you…” Her voice cracked. “You were his for so long. I thought maybe… maybe he’d turned into something better. You just became his Martha, didn’t you? I was wrong, wasn’t I, miha?”
Her words were heavy with sorrow and regret, each one driving home the cruel reality we both lived in. I looked up, meeting her tear-filled eyes, but I had nothing to offer her. No solace, no comfort—just the bitter truth we already shared.
“I’m not his, Mar. He hates me.” My voice was hoarse from keeping that bile remain in my throat. I wondered what happened to Raha. According to Martha, this trafficking had been going on for decades.
I settled on a steady gaze and pleaded. “I need to get out of here, Mar.”
She sighed heavily and looked around as if searching for hidden cameras. I knew Garret didn’t have cameras here because he didn’t want his dirty deeds to escape this room.
“Noel.” She whispered. “He is Tyka’s right hand. But he helped one prisoner escape once. Or at least I think he did. Tell him that your family is poor. He might be able to help then.”
I nodded.
“I’ll come back for you, Martha.” I told her as she walked towards my door.
“You don’t have to, Kaylan,” she looked over her shoulders toward me. “Maybe you can find what happened to her?”
I gave her a determined nod and she left. It wasn’t going to be immediate that I planned and escaped. I needed to find a way to help Logan too.