3. Captivity
THREE
CAPTIVITY
TIME AND CONFUSION: ANBERLIN
CALISTA
N ot again... not so soon.
Blindfolded, hands bound, and gagged, I find myself trapped in the trunk of a car, speeding along an unfamiliar highway. A sense of helplessness washes over me as I'm unaware of my destination. My body aches, bruised and bloodied, flames of pain coursing through me, while my mind pounds relentlessly against my skull.
I'm in fucking agony, but that’s far from my only concern. The fleeting moments of defiance and freedom I experienced have vanished, leaving a deeper sting than any injury I endured during the crash. My thoughts drift to Dom, wondering if he’s safe, and then to the others. Panic begins to claw at me, escalating my fear.
“Cali, are you okay?” Addy’s voice comes softly, and even though I cannot see or respond, a small sigh of relief escapes me, knowing I'm not alone.
Once she realizes I can’t reply, she lies beside me, resting her head on my shoulder, offering what comfort she can.
“We need to start planning our escape once we get out of the trunk,” she informs me, as if that weren’t already the first thing consuming my thoughts.
Eventually, after what feels like an eternity in darkness, the car comes to a halt. The sound of the front doors slamming shut echoes in my ears. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut beneath the blindfold, needing them to believe I'm unconscious. I must play this part for as long as possible.
I know my parents are behind this. Before darkness took me, I saw my captor's face... but the details are lost in the chaos of the crash.
Suddenly, the trunk springs open, and hushed whispers fill the night air, so quiet that I can’t decipher their words. I continue to feign unconsciousness as hands lift me from the trunk, going limp to ensure I’m carried wherever they intend to take me.
Nothing around me feels familiar; the scents and sounds are strangers. With the blindfold shielding my eyes, I can’t even tell if I recognize my surroundings. Yet, I fight to keep hope alive as I'm taken down a flight of stairs and unceremoniously tossed onto a bed, my body bouncing against the soft surface.
“Should we untie her?” one of them asks, and I silently pray to a God I've never believed in, urging for a favorable answer.
The other person remains silent, but I feel my blindfold being tugged away, and the gag is pulled from my mouth, restoring my vision and allowing fresh air to fill my lungs. However, my hands remain bound behind my back, as they seem all too aware that I might attempt to escape from their grasp.
As the blindfold slips away, I squint against the sudden flood of light, my senses spinning as I adjust to my surroundings. It’s a dimly lit room, with peeling wallpaper and shadows lurking in the corners. Old furniture is scattered about, giving it the feel of a long-abandoned hideout.
The two shadows hovering over me finally come into focus, only to reveal they're wearing masks. One is wearing a look of fierce determination, clouds of worry etched across his brow. The other, a stranger with a cruel smirk, watches me intently, his eyes glinting with malice.
“Let me go,” I demand, but my command is met with a scoff.
“Not a fucking chance. You know how this has to go. Keeping you tied up is the only way to keep you from causing too much trouble." His voice slides like oil over glass—smooth but unsettling.
Ignoring him, I twist to face the other one, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s going on? Where are we?” I struggle to focus through the haze of pain.
He kneels beside me, his expression earnest. “Cali, I swear I didn’t know they would take you. I tried to stop them.”
“Stop them? You’re the one that..." My anger takes a breath, but my body betrays me as I wince at the sharp pain radiating from my side.
His eyes flash with regret, and he bites at the edge of his lip. The smirk never leaves the other one's face. “How noble of you, but let’s be real. You’ve always been the weak link in the chain, haven't you?” The words enclose like a noose, tightening around my throat.
“Shut up!” He growls, but the evil one chuckles, taller and more imposing, obviously enjoying the power he holds.
With a swift movement, he steps closer and leans down, his face inches from mine. "If you’re smart, you won’t try anything foolish, Cali. Just look where we are.” His laughter fills the room, dark and hollow, like an echo from the past.
But beneath the surface of my anxiety, a flicker of defiance ignites. I refuse to let him see me falter. The memory of Dom's fierce protection and my friends' loyalty propels me forward.
“You think this is over?” I bite back, my voice steady despite the rising fear.
For a moment, surprise flits across his covered face before it’s masked again by condescension. “You don’t know the half of what’s coming. You’ll wish you had kept quiet.”
Suddenly, I hear the sharp clank of a door slamming open, and the atmosphere shifts. An older man steps inside, dressed sharply in a suit that’s too refined for this grim place. His piercing gaze scans the room.
As he surveys the scene, I feel an icy chill creep up my spine. This new arrival radiates a sense of authority that even the masked figures seem to yield to. The cruel smirk fades from the face of my captor, replaced with something closer to apprehension.
“Sir,” the one who had been mocking me stammers, straightening himself as if he were a child caught misbehaving.
“Have you taken care of the situation?” the older man replies, his voice steady, almost devoid of emotion. His eyes never leave mine, as if assessing me, measuring my worth—or perhaps my threat.
“Yes, we have her,” the other grunts, annoyance creeping into his tone. “But we?—”
“Enough,” the older man interrupts, a single word that silences the room. “We need to move forward with this. The longer we keep her here, the more complications we invite.”
I instinctively recoil at his words, realizing that I am nothing more than a pawn in their twisted game. He gestures with his hand, and the other masked man shifts uncomfortably, glancing between me and the older man.
“Get her ready for the meeting,” the man commands, his tone brooking no argument.
“Meeting?” I question, trying to inject fear into my voice despite my overwhelming dread. It’s as if I’m speaking from a distance, the surrealism of my situation still competing with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Don't act clueless, Cali,” the older man says, his gaze cutting like a knife. “You know your family and their dealings. They’ve put you right in the middle of everything—whether you want to believe it or not.”
Chills skitter down my spine, shaking me out of the confused daze I've fallen into. I can’t deny the truth in his words; my parents had worked in the shadows, always one step away from the edge of the law. I had preferred to stay at the periphery, blissfully ignorant of their darker dealings, but that changed in an instant.
The masked man flanks me again, his grip tightening on my arms to hoist me upright. “Let’s go. It’s time to meet the big players,” he sneers, his breath hot against my skin.
I resist, channeling every ounce of strength I can muster, but it’s futile. The two of them drag me from the room, the brightness of the hallway blinding after the darkness of the trunk.
Each movement sends waves of pain crashing through my body—pain from the crash, from my bindings, from the fear of what’s coming next. They lead me down seemingly endless corridors where dim lights flicker ominously as if aware of the darkness that lurks within.
Finally, we arrive at a heavy wooden door that seems to pulse with a life of its own. The masked man knocks once, more like a warning than a means of announcement. At the sound, the door swings open, revealing a lavish conference room that starkly contrasts the decrepit interior I had just left. A large table dominates the center, surrounded by figures clad in sharp suits, their faces a mixture of concern and interest as my captors pull me inside.
“Ah, the prodigal daughter arrives,” one of the suits drawls, leaning back in his chair with an air of arrogance. “We’ve been waiting to discuss your role in this little family affair.”
“Role?” I echo, confusion clouding my thoughts. I can hardly mask my contempt. “I’m not your fucking pawn.”
“Yet here you are,” he replies, his eyes alight with a mixture of amusement and sadism. “Your parents thought it wise to keep you involved. After all, you have something we need.”
A wave of nausea surges through me. The whole room is an undercurrent of tense dealings and darkly veiled threats. My gaze darts nervously among the faces, searching for an ally, a glimmer of anything that might count in my favor.
“What could I possibly have that you want?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
He leans closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. “The evidence you have. Plus, your loyalty, dear. Or rather, your betrayal. You see, it’s time to choose a side.”
The air thickens, charged with unspoken implications. My heart races as I contemplate what this means. Dom, Addy, the others... I can’t betray them; I won’t. But tethered between family loyalty and self-preservation, I steel myself for the battle ahead.
“I refuse to play your game,” I respond defiantly, squaring my shoulders against their judgment. "Plus, if anything happens to me, all of the evidence will be turned in and everyone will be going down."
The suited man chuckles softly, and the sound sends shivers through me. “Very well, but remember, playing hard to get has its consequences.”
"So does kidnapping me..."
The masked figures step back, allowing me to sense the full focus of the room upon me—a spotlight that sears into my skin. But deep down, even amid the encroaching doom, the flicker of hope reignites. As their gaze sharpens, I take a breath, ready to fight, ready to escape, ready to reclaim my own fate.
"Take her back to the fucking basement. I want guards at the door at all times. We'll try this again in a day or two when she's had time to think shit over." The old man looks at me and grins, letting me know he's got something up his sleeves.
But I don't give a fuck. They have no idea how fucking determined I am to get out of here and finish my list, now with three more people added to it. I'm here to fucking win. I'm here to take back my power, control, and most importantly, my fucking life. And I refuse to let some sick man or men try to control my life and force me to do what they want. I'll ruin each and every fucking one of them, and I'll do it without flinching, keeping a smile on my fucking face.
They fucked with the wrong one; they just don't realize it yet. Oh, but they will, and they're going to regret ever fucking with me and my freedom.
The masked men backtrack, their grips firm but cautious as they haul me away from the meeting room. My heart races, the rush of adrenaline pushing against the brim of desperation that threatens to overflow. Every fiber of my being screams for me to act, to wrench control from their hands, but for now, I remain a spectator in my own desperate scenario.
As they lead me down the stark hallway back to the basement, I take mental notes, recording every turn, every flickering light, and every eerily placed item that could serve as a potential weapon or a means of escape. The realization dawns heavy upon me: if I’m going to get out of this, I need to be strategic—calculated. I need to be the girl who was trapped in the attic again. I need to summon all I have inside me, and I need to put it to good use. I know I can fucking do it; it's just a game of cat and mouse in the long run. But instead of a cat, bitch, I'm a fucking lioness, and I'll fucking devour anyone who gets in my fucking way.
Once back in the cold, dim basement, they toss me onto a lumpy mattress that lacks any semblance of comfort. My body protests against the hard surface, but I refuse to show weakness.
“You’re making a huge mistake,” I say evenly, gathering as much conviction as I can muster. My voice echoes slightly in the empty space. “You might think you have the upper hand, but you’re wrong. I won’t give in.”
“Not yet you won’t,” sneers one of the masked men, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall.
His partner turns to inspect the room, clearly unconcerned with my words. Their arrogance is palpable, a glaring oversight I can exploit.
The moment they retreat, I survey my surroundings. The basement is barely furnished—a light bulb flickers overhead, casting unsettling shadows around the room. A rusty pipe runs along one wall, and a few nails stick out at odd angles. My bindings burn against my skin, but I can’t focus on that now. It’s time to summon the resolve I hadn’t known I possessed.
They may forget about me, shoved aside like some forgotten piece of their game, but I won’t let them. I fight against my restraints, testing the ropes tied against my wrists. It’s tight, but not impossible. Through grit and determination, I angle my hands in an awkward twist, desperately working at the knots. Just as I start to scratch the surface of freedom, a creak interrupts my focus. My heart races as the door swings open. In walks one of the masked men, his eyes darkened by suspicion.
“What are you doing?” he snaps, stepping closer.
Panic creeps in, but I trap the feeling deep inside. I take a deep breath, doing my best to retain composure. “Trying to get comfortable,” I fire back, allowing a smirk to slip onto my face, a mere mask for the whirlwind of plans playing out in my mind.
He narrows his eyes as if searching for a lie I yearn to slip up on. “Well, don’t get too comfortable,” he growls. “You’ll be here for a while, and I’d hate to see you hurt yourself.”
It’s a flimsy threat, just another feeble attempt to intimidate. The moment he turns from me, I launch into action. I focus on loosening the rope around my wrist, pulling and twisting until I feel a fray begin to form. The rope bites into my skin, but that sharp pain is nothing compared to the burning desire to break free.
Fingers trembling with urgency, my breath catches as I hear the key turning in the lock. He’s coming back. I feign innocence, collapsing back against the mattress as if resigned to my fate, but adrenaline courses through my veins, readying me for the split-second moment of truth.
When he swings the door open, I spring forward, acting on pure instinct. I lunge, using the momentum to knock him off balance and send him sprawling back into the corridor. His shout rings out—one of surprise and anger—but it’s too late. I seize the opportunity, darting into the hallway, adrenaline oozing through my limbs as I charge toward freedom.
“Get her!” I hear him roar, but I press on, fueled by sheer determination. I race past the flickering lights, heart pounding as I search for the staircase that led us down in the first place. My mind races, calculating every possible outcome. Each step brings me closer to escape; I envision Dom’s face, Killian's smile, Ash's laugh, and Addy grounded in my resolve.
Panic builds in the air as I hear shouts erupt behind me. Their deep voices meld together, a cacophony of chaos that only fuels my adrenaline. I twist around a corner, barely evading a grasping hand as I sprint.
Finally, I find the staircase, the promise of freedom pulling me forward. I glance back—a small victory as I see the masked man trying to recover his footing; the panic in his eyes is reflected in my heartbeat. With each step, I feel my chance for a life away from this nightmare inching closer.
As I reach the top, the door at the end of the hall seems impossibly heavy, yet I know what’s on the line. In one swift motion, I slam my shoulder against it, propelled by the primal urge to break free from my captors. The door creaks open, revealing night’s cool air—a sweet invitation to legitimize my survival.
But just as I plunge into the open space, another figure steps in, blocking my path—a giant shadow cast by the moonlight. I skid to a halt, catching my breath as he leans against the wall, arms crossed, a smile playing on his lips.
“Thought you could run away without saying goodbye?” The words drip with a dark humor, and my heart sinks. It’s the older man from before—the mastermind. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice in this.”
No. I refuse to give in—not here, not now. Raw desperation floods my senses as I take a step back, ready to challenge him. My freedom was just within reach, and I won’t allow him to trap me again.
“You're wrong. I do have a choice. And I'm going to choose to win.”
He smirks and pulls out a yellow taser from his pack pocket. "How cute, but you winning isn't going to happen tonight."
He raises the taser and fires, forcing the prongs to embed into my abdomen, instantly dropping me to the ground as my body shakes and stiffens from the shock. He grabs my hair and wraps it around his hand, dragging me by it the entire way back to the basement, my mind refusing to accept defeat.
This is just a minor setback, and the next time I try to escape, I'll make sure that no motherfucker will be able to stop me.