Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Stiletto
I wake up to the bite of cold concrete digging into my cheek.
My head pounds like a jackhammer, blurring the edges of reality.
I blink, trying to focus.
Why am I still alive? I thought they would have killed me by now.
“Get the fuck up!” A voice rings in my ears, harsh and demanding.
But it’s not just the voice—it’s the memory of a blow that knocked me out.
The sharp sting pulses through my skull.
I push myself up on shaky arms, scanning my eyes around the dark room.
Shadows loom around me and I’m left to wonder if anyone is actually down here with me.
The air smells stale, laced with something metallic.
Panic flares in my chest.
“Hello?” My voice is hoarse, cracked like the dry earth underfoot. No answer.
Just silence, thick and suffocating.
I squint into the dimness.
The walls are rough, painted in a sickly gray.
My heart races.
“Shit,” I whisper, trying to swallow but my throat feels like sandpaper.
I rub my eyes, willing the fog to lift.
I truly don’t understand why they haven’t killed me. Sure, I’m leverage, but I’m a nobody—just a prospect.
Then I feel it, the weight of chains biting into my skin.
I shift, wincing at the pain.
My wrists throb, raw and burning.
I grit my teeth. No time for weakness.
Footsteps echo above me—heavy, menacing.
My breath quickens.
I press my back against the wall, heart hammering like a freight train.
“Please, someone help me,” I murmur, though I know no one can hear. Not down here.
A door creaks open, then slams shut.
My pulse races faster as I prepare for whatever’s coming next.
I brace myself, fighting the urge to curl up and disappear.
I try to move my wrists, and pain shoots up my arms like fire. “Goddamn it,” I hiss, biting my lip to stifle a whimper. The rawness—the burn—it’s excruciating.
“Focus, Stiletto,” I say, forcing myself to breathe.
Each inhale feels like a victory.
But the chains dig deeper with every small movement, reminding me I’m trapped—bound.
I lean against the wall, breathing through the pain.
The chains are cold, unyielding.
All I know is that I have to find a way to get out of here.
Just as I’m mulling over ideas of escape, my stomach growls—an ugly reminder of my situation.
Three days, maybe more, with nothing but stale air and darkness.
“Get it together, Stiletto,” I whisper, my voice raspy, like gravel scraping against glass.
Each word feels like a fight.
I can’t let panic claw its way up my throat.
I’ve survived being without food so many times throughout my life, especially back home in the Bronx.
I can get through this. I know I can.
The chains rattle as I shift once more.
God, they hurt.
I flex my fingers, trying to find some sensation in them.
The rawness stings, blurring the edges of my mind.
Focus. Just breathe. It’s taking everything in me to remain calm, to not let my current predicament break me down.
Time stretches here, each moment feeling like an eternity.
Is it day? Night? I can’t tell anymore.
“Keep moving,” I tell myself, even though every flicker of movement sends jolts of pain through my wrists.
They’re on fire.
I grit my teeth, fighting back the tears prickling my eyes.
If I can just stay calm... but the hunger gnaws at me, relentless.
Whatever they’ve done to me, they want me to break.
“Just a prospect,” I remind myself, but that doesn’t make it easier.
It’s like a bitter pill lodged in my throat—useless.
I’m nothing but a pawn in their game.
“Please,” I say, desperation creeping into my tone. “Someone. Anyone.” But the silence answers back, mocking.
“I need to find a way out,” I murmur, clenching my jaw against the pain.
I twist my wrists, searching for any hope of freedom, but the chains hold tight—their grip suffocating.
My thoughts drift to my sister, Suyin, or as the club knows her, Siren.
Her face flashes behind my eyelids, and it almost feels like I’m home.
My lips crack as I try to wet my dry mouth. It feels like sandpaper scraping against bone.
Each breath is a struggle, the air thick with dust and despair.
I can’t remember the last time I drank water.
My throat burns, begging for relief.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I whisper to myself, though the words taste bitter now.
A noise above interrupts my thoughts—the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.
My heart races.
Heavy footsteps reverberate through the floor, each thud echoing my rising panic.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I can’t let them see me weak.
I force myself to sit up, wincing as the chains bite into my wrists even more.
The cold concrete presses into my back like a relentless reminder of where I am.
The door creaks open, shadows spilling into the dim space.
My breath catches. Adrenaline surges through me.
I scramble to brace myself against the wall, trying to appear defiant, even as dread coils in my stomach.
“Are you ready to talk yet?” A voice booms, gravelly and commanding.
“Please,” I rasp, desperation clawing at my insides. “I don’t know anything.”
Footsteps descend faster, and I feel the air shift.
A figure looms, blocking the light.
My pulse quickens, a frantic drumbeat against my chest.
“Look at me!” he barks, his presence suffocating.
I force my gaze upward, meeting dark eyes that burn with intensity.
“Why are you asking me things I don’t know?” I manage, my voice trembling.
“Where’s my fucking grandson,” His question strikes like a slap.
“God, I don’t know,” I plead, but my words seem to vanish into the air.
The heaviness presses down, dragging me further into despair.
“I don’t believe you. You’re nothing better than a no good, rotten biker whore.” He takes a step closer, and I shrink back, the wall digging into my spine.
“Please,” I whisper again, my cracked lips barely forming the word.
“You’re going to regret not speaking up. I’ll make sure of it.” His tone drips with malice, a promise of pain yet to come.
In that moment, I realize—I might not survive whatever comes next.
Before I can blink, he lunges at me.
A hand grips my throat, nails digging into soft skin, lifts me up and slams me against the cold concrete wall.
Pain radiates through my back and my wrists.
“Tell me the fucking truth!” His breath smells of smoke and something rancid.
Fear twists in my gut.
“I-I don’t know. I w-wish I did, but I don’t,” I choke out, struggling for air.
My vision blurs at the edges.
“Don’t play games with me.” He leans in closer, eyes narrowing.
They’re dark, swirling pools of malicious intent.
“Please... I swear...” I rasp, desperation clawing at my throat.
“Your words mean nothing.” He tightens his grip, squeezing until stars dance in my vision.
“Stop! I can’t—” My voice cracks, panic rising like bile.
“Then start talking.” His grip eases just enough for me to gasp. “Or I won’t show you any fuckin’ kindness.”
I swallow hard, heart pounding louder than the thud of his boots on the floor.
I search for an answer, but all I find is darkness.
“Think carefully.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes—it’s predatory.
“Please... I swear I don’t know where he is.”
The truth spills from my lips, but it feels too fragile to hold.
“You’re lying.” His eyes flash with anger. “You have to know something.”
I shake my head, tears threatening to spill over.
He releases me suddenly, and I stumble, gasping for breath.
The world spins as I slide down the wall, the cold seeping into my bones.
My heart races. I can feel it pounding in my ears.
“Why won’t you believe me?” I whimper, trying to catch my breath.
He steps closer, invading my space. The heat from his body makes me recoil.
“Because I can smell your fear.” He lunges forward, grabbing my nipples hard.
A sharp pain shoots through me, and I can’t help but whimper.
Old memories begin to swarm through my mind.
“Stop! Please!” I gasp, squirming against his hold.
“Does it hurt?” he taunts, voice low and mocking.
“Yes! Just?—”
“Then you’ll remember this.” He slams me against the wall again, my head ringing as the impact jolts through me.
“Now bend over,” he commands.
I hesitate, terror flooding my veins.
“Do it!” He pulls me back and slams me against the wall again. My head hits the cinderblock harder than before and starts float through my vision.
I force myself to obey, bending at the waist.
The cold concrete bites into my skin, and I close my eyes, focusing on the burning sensation rolling through my wrists.
I’m wishing for anything but this moment.
“Good girl,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear and I shudder.
Nausea rolls through me and I feel disgusted with myself.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I just want to disappear.
“If you’re going to be my prisoner, I might as well get some enjoyment out of this.” His voice is a low growl that vibrates through me.
I bite my lip, my body trembling.
Everything goes silent.
The world narrows down to just his breath against my skin, his hand against my flesh.
“No,” I whimper but it comes out as a choked sob.
“Shut up,” he snaps, his voice cold and uncaring.
He squeezes my hips hard enough to bruise.
I can’t see him, but I can imagine his malicious smile, the glint in his eyes as he inflicts pain.
He rams himself in and out of me so much that I struggle to focus on the pain shooting through my wrists.
It’s the only salvation as I endure this.
He finishes inside me and the desire to throw up comes to the surface.
The second he pulls out, I’m vomiting over the floor and his laughter as he ascends the stairs is the only thing I hear.