Chapter Five
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Raine
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I can't fall apart. Not now. I have to... have to what? Wait for Christopher to come and save me. He can't come back. They wouldn't allow it. And I wouldn't want him to put his life in any more danger than it already is.
Dear god. I shouldn't have involved him in this in the first place. But I had no choice. When the man with a clown mask, told me I needed someone I trusted to act as a billionaire, Christopher was all I could think of.
He's a chemist and works in a lab. He shouldn't be involved in all this. I groan painfully on the inside, hoping he made it out and just goes back to his life. He can't save my sister, Summer, any more than he can save me.
I have to find a way out myself, with the Virgin Chalice. I still have time. I can do this. I can. I will. And thanks to Christopher, I have two forms of defense. I just need a way to use the first one so I can get to the second one.
Even though Joe had laid out the plans for us down to the minutest detail, Christopher had decided on those two backup plans if things went wrong for me.
Thank you, Christopher.
I haven't moved since Theron Young walked in with the Virgin Chalice in his hand. He'd taken it from my luggage, which had been waiting for me in the foyer. If everything had gone according to the plan, I would have just picked it up on my way out, with my other arm around Christopher. Home free.
Now they know why I was there. To steal their precious piece of art. I'm going to be paying a penalty for that; I can only hope it doesn't kill me before I get a chance to attempt escape.
"Are you going to tell us who you're working for?"
"No," I say succinctly, turning my head to Conrad. I'm going to find a way out of here. That's what I'm going to do. Before the storm takes over. Crap. I don't have much time.
"Are you sure?" Alec asks, and there's a special kind of darkness in his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
"Yes." I raise my head. That information is all the leverage I have.
They're not going to kill me until I tell.
But then my stomach flips over. I don't even know who sent me here.
A man with a clown mask called Joe. God, the number of times I've referenced him already.
I hate him for putting me in this situation, for endangering my sister's life, all for a piece of art.
Why me? No. There's no more time to ask stupid questions. I have to keep my wits about me. I'm hardly a worthy adversary for these men, but I have my sister's life on the line. I didn't work so hard, sacrifice so much for both of us, only for Summer to be a victim of a greedy man.
My shoulders straighten automatically.
"I won't break." As petrified as I am, I raise my gaze and look them straight in the eye.
But bravado doesn't last long. Theron, seemingly coming out of the shadows, scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.
I immediately start hyperventilating. What was I thinking? I can't go up against them. No. I physically shake my head and force myself not to ask where he's taking me or what he's going to do to me.
It doesn't help that the scent of death smells like the most expensive cologne in the world, that the warmth coming off his body slips into me, and suddenly my frozen, cold limbs thaw and I quiver from the heat instead.
Theron carries me down a staircase to what seems like a basement.
Except it's not just a basement. My eyes dart around the room and I can't help the whimpering cry that escapes my mouth.
The air in the room still carries the same mix of expensive upholstery and wealth as the reception room above.
But there are threats everywhere I look.
Oh my god. They've brought me to a sex dungeon; one I'd vaguely read about but had never been to in person.
A BDSM dungeon. Panic swells past my need to be calm.
Against the far wall stands a massive wooden "X," bolted to the floor with heavy iron rings that look strong enough to restrain a fully grown man.
Long racks, stacked against the walls, house a variety of terrifying paraphernalia.
Whips and canes. Floggers fringed with leather pelts.
I don't look any further. I don't need to know what other horrors this place has. I have to leave it, right now.
I make a concerted effort to escape as soon as Theron places me on a bench. But it's futile. He overpowers me so effortlessly and with such speed and dexterity; before my next breath I have ropes tied around one of my wrists, binding me to the bench.
I yank viciously at the restraint but then I freeze as Theron grips the top of the zipper on my dress and pulls it down. Even with my free hand there’s nothing I can do to stop him
No. No. No.
I bite my lip before I start begging them to release me, but if I can just pull hard enough at the rope... just hard enough. But warm air—as if they'd turned up the heat even more down here—coasts over my naked back. I'm not wearing a bra. The dress didn't require one.
I shut my eyes in horror when Theron slips his fingers into the fabric at my waist, pulls it off me.
I kick out with my legs, but again it's all futile.
I'm no match for the man, who carried me here silently, restrained me to the bench silently, and completely divested me of my dress, just as silently, leaving me in nothing but a scrap of panties.
Until he slips his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and pulls them down my thighs and out of my legs. All in the view of Alec and Conrad.
I feel as if I've been tossed from the mountaintop. I struggle to catch my breath. These men can't see me naked. They can't see my flaws, the ones Joe, the clown, evidently overlooked when he said I was worthy.
And yet somehow the fact that they're going to torture me dims in comparison to them seeing me naked.