CHAPTER TEN
Ava – One Hour Earlier
“A bout fucking time ,” I say to the figure walking down the creaking wooden steps that lead to this disgusting and sweaty basement maintenance room. “This cage doesn’t have a toilet!”
I’ve been a prisoner for five fucking months.
Before we arrived in this hellhole, we checked into different seedy motels where I was always chained to a bed. But here, they built a cage. And the past few weeks, this cage is all I know. They only let me out twice a day to pee and...other things. Not that much is happening in that department because they barely feed me.
When I do get let out, I’m shackled with a gun pointed at my head. Like that makes it easy to crap in front of a stranger. My emotions are breaking down, and I’m ready to throw my poop at these clowns like a caged monkey. I finally get it. When you have nothing left, you turn primitive.
My primal beast laid dormant my whole life. But Alexander knew who I was, saw the raw under the glossy hair and makeup. I just needed training he couldn’t provide.
“Quit your yelling, bitch.”
The voice stills me.
That’s not one of Brandon’s sketchy guards. I’ve studied all six of them, know every inch of their pasty skin, and how they walk.
A light shines on the pudgy jaw and balding scalp of Brandon Keller himself, the man who kidnapped me from Aunt Helena’s apartment on Christmas Eve. Killed the guards who went by Sloth, Lust, and Envy, then shoved a drugged rag down my throat until I passed out.
Brandon holds the cage’s lock key and swings the ring on a calloused finger with dirt under his nails. Sickening.
With his phone recording me, he says, “I’m here to ask you one more time. If I let you out, will you marry me?”
He’s been asking me for months. Faking a marriage license, or marrying me while I’m unconscious, or with a gun to my head won’t bode well with my brothers, who he needs a truce with.
Brandon needs me to agree. And his method is to break me.
In fairness to the idiot, he had his bases covered for a while. With that truce agreement from Ares, Troi would have no choice but to recognize his bastard son as the heir.
But now his father is dead, and I’m stuck in this cage. At Brandon’s mercy.
In hindsight, I should have said yes months ago and married him, let his father refuse to name him heir. Then tell Ares: ‘Whoops, sorry I can’t marry someone else. I already have a husband.’
Then disappear again since I’ll be of no use to Brandon.
This time I’ll go ghost to such a remote location, no one will find me.
“I asked you a question, bitch.” Brandon kicks the cage.
My gut pays attention to the dangling key while I gaze into his murky dead eyes. He never comes down here to let me out for my morning break. After the first few times, they came to get me, I ran at the guards with my fingernails and tightened fists. That’s when they started tasing me first. Now, I just comply and let them shackle me.
I stopped feeling pain. And I don’t feel fear. I’m livid and thirsty for blood. But I’ve never seen the key to this cage until now, and Brandon isn’t holding the taser.
Odd.
“Brandon, we talked about this.” I soften my voice.
“What will it take, Ava?”
“You’ve got a lot to make up for, asshole. You killed my guards. You gagged me and stole me from my bed. Kept me chained. Now, I’m in a cage. And you want to negotiate our marriage?”
He flushes, looking enraged. “There was no other way to get to you. I tried talking to your prick of a brother. You were there.”
That is true... But Ares would never have backed the claim of a bastard.
“We’re here now. For five months you’ve had—” I stop. “What’s happened?”
“We’re leaving,” Brandon barks. “I spotted a fucking drone flying over the roof. Someone knows we’re here. Either your brothers or someone else who wants my goddamn throne.”
My brothers found me! I take a breath and consider that I’m getting a do-over. Sort of.
“Wherever we go next, I promise it will be worse for you if you keep refusing to marry me,” Brandon seethes.
That I don’t doubt. At least here, I got to look at the stars each night through a window. Without being chained, I did pull-ups, crunches, and squats. But with little to no protein, I’m breaking down.
“Fine, Brandon.” I give in and step back.
“You, you mean it?” He sounds shocked. “You’ll marry me?”
I thought I could escape. Everything I learned in the military made me think I could beat this.
I couldn’t.
“Yes, Brandon, I’ll marry you,” I lie.
I have to get out of this cage, this basement. I can’t take it. The second I see my brothers, I’ll run to Ares, and tell him to kill Brandon. How does this idiot not realize I’ll do that? How does he not realize...
“Good.” He grins wickedly. “If you breathe a word of what I did to you, I will kill you. You’re going to tell your brothers you’ve fallen in love with me and that you forgive me for kidnapping you. And that we’ve been going at it like maniacs. Consensually.”
Fuck, that’s how he plans to explain where the hell we’ve been. He assumes my brothers are morons, but hey, I go with it.
Ares wants the truce and that land deal. Tattling on what really happened these five months might not rouse Cold Ares to do the right thing by me. After all, he’s giving me away. Alexander protected me, wanted me to destroy the Kellers.
There’s always time. I’ll use what I learned in special ops training and the CIA, play the long game.
“Fine,” I say and saunter to the cage door, waiting for him to bark at me to get back.
He doesn’t. Just smiles, waltzing up to the cage, still swinging that key.
With him so close, my rage bubbles to the surface, stealing my better senses. I act on pure murdering instinct. I can’t help it. I’m too raw and unhinged.
I strike the moment he’s close enough by grabbing his shirt and smashing the top of his head into the cage with such force, he’s knocked unconscious.
Brandon slumps in front of the cage.
If it wasn’t so quick and he cried out first, his guards would have been down here in a second. Then I’d be in trouble. They’ve been threatening to rape me for months and admitted they’d do it if they were ordered to kill me.
They know if I lived to tell my brothers that these men raped me, they’d never see another sunrise. That’s the only truth I know at this point. My only shred of confidence in Ares right now rests in the hope that he’d avenge my death.
Yet, Brandon lies on the ground out cold. The key, where is the fucking key? That ring is not on his finger anymore or in the lock. I thought he had it in there. God, I’m slipping.
Adrenaline-fueled, I keep going, keep looking. The sun peeks into the basement window and glints off metal a few feet from Brandon.
The key!
I drop to the cage floor and reach for it.
Fuck!
It’s just a few inches out of my reach. I push against the bars with bruising strength, my shoulders aching.
Think. Think. Think.
I have nothing in this cage to work with. I’m barefoot in a T-shirt and sweatpants.
I could take off my top and try to cover the key then drag it back. I hate that I worry I’ll be topless or bottomless if those animals storm down here looking for Brandon. Not that a thin piece of cloth would stop them, but sitting here naked with their boss, their leader, the man they see as king lying on the ground out cold, they’ll rape me for sure. Then kill me.
Or the other way around.
In my prime fitness, like during SEAL training, I could take on any man, any size. Maybe two if they were stupid and didn’t think to block their balls. Four meaty, savage guards? I’m smart enough to know when my brawn is useless, and I need my brain.
Brandon alone? I will kick him in the balls so hard as soon as I get out of here, he’ll never be able to procreate.
Kick. Shoes.
“Fuck,” I cuss and work to lift Brandon so I can spin him around.
Unraveling his shoelaces, I pull off one sneaker and nearly pass out from the foot odor. Brandon only let me shower once a week. Watched me himself at gunpoint. That was yesterday. I’m remotely clean. But him, man...
I toss the sneaker, holding it by the shoelaces and it slams down on the key. “Oh, dear God, yes.” I start to cry as I inch it toward me.
Movement upstairs frays my nerves, but I work faster. I get the key and unlock myself. I make a twist with my long hair, tying it into a knot, then stick the key in the bun, praying it holds if for some reason I end up back in this damn cage.
Right now, I have to fight. I frisk Brandon and my heart races, finding a Glock in an ankle strap. I check the clip and want to kiss all eight rounds.
There are six guards total, and two should be off. They’ve been rotating shifts, but Brandon said we’re leaving, so maybe they’re all outside.
I got this.
Looking around, I find cover so I can shoot and not be hit by their erratic return fire. My only hope is an old-school refrigerator with the door removed and resting against the cinderblock wall. Those things are made of pure metal and bullets won’t get through. I wedge myself behind it with a breath and a prayer.
Then I...
I scream.
Loudly.
Two men barrel down the wooden stairs. When they see Brandon lying on the cement floor face down, they rush toward the body.
“Boss?” one of them cries out, shaking him.
The other one notices I’m not in the cage and looks around. “That bitch escaped.”
Shaking, I aim the Glock at that guy’s head, tears leaking from my eyes. I’ve killed plenty of bad guys. Today is no different. One of them walks back toward the steps, while the other stares in that direction. They must think I took off that way when they came down. Like I’d be so stupid to risk my life wandering around an unknown environment.
There’s too much in my way, though. I can’t take the shot from behind this damn metal door like I wanted to. Moving with stealth, I sneak out and get behind the guy who’s closer to me. With the gun jammed into the back of his head, I pull the trigger, using his skull as a silencer.
It deadens the sound, but oh fuck, what a mess.
He falls and I catch him, so he’s blocking me. The second guy spins around, his jaw dropped open. In the time it takes him to process that he’s looking at his buddy with half a head, I drop the dead guy and put a bullet in his skull.
Only, this one made noise.
I grab both their guns, one with a silencer on it.
“Could have fucking used this,” I whisper-curse, jumping back behind the refrigerator door to wait for the others to come downstairs.
Two more guys bound down the steps, guns drawn.
Feeling stronger and more in control, I nick one off, and when he falls, I duck for cover as both the door and the refrigerator take on a hail of bullets. One hollow point pierces through and lands in the wall five inches from my head.
I fire off two rounds from the Glock for cover then lift the door by the handle, rushing forward using it as a shield. It’s just not a very good one because it’s heavy as hell and hard to keep straight. At least it will disorient this guy, seeing an avocado-green refrigerator door with feet coming at him.
Running at top speed, I crash into Guard #4 full force and knock him down. When I’m on top, I empty the Glock and blow off his head.
He’s the last of the four, five including Brandon.
I curl into a ball, but vomit rises quickly in my throat. I tighten my stomach and hurl all over the floor. I gag and yak up bile since I’ve barely eaten anything.
Groaning sounds out behind me.
Uh oh.
Before I can turn around or get to my feet, Brandon flops on top of me and holds a knife to my throat.