Chapter 24 Kit
KIT
How long have I been locked in here? An hour?
Maybe two? I’ve tried to pry open every window, picked at every crack in the wall, and bloodied my fingers trying to lift the solid floorboards.
The irony isn’t lost on me that only this evening I worried about the lack of a bolt on my bedroom door.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to that.
Now, I’ve given up. My body aches, and my head is still pounding, likely an aftereffect of whatever drug Lucien used to knock me out.
I try not to think about how long I was unconscious and completely vulnerable around him.
Thank god I don’t remember. Though from the red rings around my wrists and ankles, I know he had me tied up tight.
I wonder where he put me. In the back seat? Or the boot?
The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m alone now. There’s no noise coming from the other side of the door. Even when I press my ear against the floor, I don’t catch anything but my own strained breaths ghosting along the polished boards.
One car, that’s the only sign of life I’ve heard beyond these walls. Aside from the owls, of course. That’s it, a single car in all the time I’ve been awake. I’ve lived in the city since I was born. Even without the whole hostage thing, I’d still find the absence of other life unnerving.
Not that this loneliness means I’m not being watched. I’ve counted six cameras dotted around the room, each blinking at me obnoxiously. It must be Lucien’s way of making sure I’m being a good little prisoner while he’s off doing whatever it is kidnappers do.
One car. Six cameras. Eleven cracks in the ceiling, and thirty boards across the floor. The only count I can’t give is the number of sex toys in the drawer because I’m too scared to open it again.
For lack of anything else to do, I lie down on the bed. It’s cold here, but I can’t bear to climb under the covers. That feels like admitting I’m here to stay. Besides, the second that door opens, I want nothing to stand in the way of my escape.
The owl hoots again. I wonder if he’s alone like me. Maybe he’s watching me too, twooing about the sad, unconscious boy who was carted around like a sack of potatoes.
There’s so much nothingness surrounding me that I can’t help but drift away, succumbing to the heaviness in my eyes and the silence roaring in my ears. Or is that finally something more than silence I can hear?
A low rumble resounds through the empty night, growing louder and louder as it approaches my prison.
Car number two. Except this one doesn’t pass by. No, this one stops… right outside my window. Lucien. I hold my breath, my heart beating out of my chest as I curl into a ball and wait for the inevitable.
Lucien doesn’t keep me on the hook for long. A car door slams violently, followed by what I assume is the front door in quick succession.
I make myself as small as possible and wrap my arms around my knees. Then, in a sudden moment of clarity, I remember who the fuck I am. I’m Kit Gretel, and I’m not about to be cowed by some old guy who thinks he owns the world.
I scramble from the bed, frantically searching for something, anything I can use to take this fucker down.
I’ve looked once before, but I can’t give up.
I can’t just lie here and surrender to whatever Lucien has in store.
I’ll claw his eyes out and rip off his balls with my bare hands if I have to. I’m not going down without a fight.
Leah might not be winning any parenting prizes, but she didn’t raise a damsel in distress.
So, that’s how Lucien finds me when he bursts through the bedroom door, yanking desperately at the drawer of the anchored nightstand, trying to wrench it out to use as a weapon.
“Kit,” Lucien tuts with a solemn shake of his head. “Nice try. But you won’t find whatever it is you’re looking for in there.”
I spin on my heels, pressing myself back against the bedframe.
I might have found my fight, but I’m not stupid.
Without a weapon, Lucien can easily overpower me, especially as I’m probably still suffering the consequences of our last encounter.
No, unarmed, I’ll have to find some other way to outsmart him.
“What do you want, asshole?” I snap. Okay, so I haven’t quite worked out the whole outsmarting thing yet…
“Oh, Kit, give it a rest. You’re about as intimidating as a chihuahua.”
“What. Do. You. Want?” I repeat through gritted teeth.
Lucien sighs, shutting the heavy door behind him. He pulls a key from his pocket and locks my only means of escape with a deafening click.
“I have to say, Kitty–”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’m a little disappointed in the greeting I’ve received. After all I’ve done for you, after all I’ve given you, this temper tantrum is how you repay me?”
“Temper tantrum?” My muscles twitch with indignant rage. “You jabbed a needle into my neck!”
“Well, you can blame your boyfriend for that. If Damian hadn’t worked you up into such a state, I would have been able to get you here of your own accord.”
A dead weight drops into my stomach so fast I almost keel over. “How… How?”
“How did I know you’ve been fucking my son?” he sneers. “Or getting fucked by him, I suppose. Haven’t you figured it out yet, Kit? I’m always watching.”
Unease snakes down my spine, licking icy tendrils of terror over my raised flesh. I do everything in my power not to look at the blinking lights that surround me.
“So, tell me, Kitty,” Lucien drawls, prowling towards the bed. “How do you like your new room? Is everything to your liking?”
Whatever bravado I’d found before my stepfather arrived drains out of me, leaving me cold and shaking. “I want to go home,” I whisper pointlessly.
“But why?” he asks, feigning confusion. “You have everything you need right here. A big bed, a clean bathroom, even a drawer of those toys you enjoy. What more could you want?”
How did I never see the monster hidden inside this man? How did I let him get so close to me without spotting the dark poison within? My mind flashes back to that damning pile of condoms, and my stomach roils.
“That reminds me,” Lucien says eagerly. “I have something for you.”
He reaches into his back pocket and throws something small and solid towards me. I shrink back against the wall, flinching away from the strike until the object lands with a dull thud on the mattress.
I’m too scared to look down, so I keep my eyes on Lucien.
He’s wearing the same navy suit-trousers and white shirt as he did at dinner mere hours ago, the material now marred by the effort it took to kidnap a fully grown man and dump him in the middle of nowhere.
His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and there’s a smudge of dirt stretching across his thigh.
I vaguely wonder if he’ll throw the trousers away, or whether he’ll have Mum drop them off at the dry cleaners.
His silver hair is still combed back off his forehead, but the sleek strands are running rogue, stuck out at odd angles like he’s spent the night running his fingers through them.
And while I’ve never seen Lucien look so dishevelled, it’s his eyes I don’t recognise.
Any warmth in their depths has been doused, replaced by a calculating gleam that has the hairs on my neck standing on end.
“You see,” Lucien continues, stepping up beside me to knock the bedside drawer back into place. “I didn’t have this place quite ready for your arrival. I hadn’t planned to bring you here for at least another year, really build up your following before cashing in on your popularity.”
My following? My popularity?
“Of course, when I heard my son on the phone tonight, I knew I had to act fast. I couldn’t have you getting away, not with all I’ve invested in you. Luckily, the room was almost ready to go, so all’s well that ends well. There was just one thing I’d forgotten to grab in my haste to move you here.”
Lucien nods to the bed, and slowly, reluctantly, I lower my eyes to the damning object.
Bile fills my mouth.
“All these toys and I’d managed to forget the lube,” Lucien laughs jovially. “Would you believe it? You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not used to the mechanics of anal. But no matter, it’s here now. As you dancers say, the show must go on.”
My lungs are burning, begging for oxygen as my body forgets how to breathe. I gasp, choking on air, shaking my head from side to side.
“Whatever you want from me, I’m not doing it.”
“Kitty,” he drags out my stupid nickname like a reproach. “I thought we’d raised you better than that. Come on now, chin up. It’s time to pay your debts. And believe me, you’ve racked up a few.”
“I’m not letting you touch me,” I mouth soundlessly. A stray tear rolls down my cheek, but I’m too terrified to lift my hand and brush it away.
“Me?” Lucien throws his head back and howls with laughter. “Oh god, no, not me. My sweet Kit, I’m just a benefactor in this… scenario. I have no desire to touch you.”
Then, he stalks towards me and strikes, gripping my jaw so painfully that I know I’ll be marked tomorrow. “But my clients, your fans, they would pay a fortune for the pleasure. Now, lie down on the bed.”
His demand wrenches a sob from deep inside me. “No. No, please.”
Lucien rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I just said I’m not going to touch you, didn’t I? Now, lie the fuck down before I change my mind.” He throws me back by my jaw, and I fall across the bed hard enough that my head smashes against the bedpost with a nauseating crunch.
My stepfather ignores my pained cry and pulls his phone from his pocket, tapping on the screen until the television mounted on the wall flickers to life. He looks smug, smiling to himself like he wasn’t convinced it would work.
“Would you like to watch something?” he asks, dropping onto the bed beside me.
All I can do is stare at him in horror.