Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Where was Nathan?
And why did she care?
It was impossible to get a proper read on how she felt about the man.
On the one hand, Emma knew for a fact he wasn't a good person.
Even if he didn't scare her as much as the others did, he was here, so he was part of this.
No one who participated in trafficking women was a good person, so she knew he was evil, just apparently better at hiding it than everyone else was.
Yet every time she was around him, she felt … safe.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Human traffickers weren't supposed to be safe. Whatever game he was playing was working and messing with her head. Because even though she knew Nathan was one of them, he kept protecting her, and he’d turned down her offers of both a hand job and a blow job.
It had been stupid to think that she could convince Nathan to switch sides by simply getting him off.
As if that was anything special to him. There was a whole basement full of women, and she was the least trained.
All the others would do whatever he asked of them, certainly more risky things than she could force herself to offer.
Only it hadn't felt like she was forcing herself to do anything yesterday.
Which worried her. She was getting too attached. He’d actually hurt her feelings when he said he didn't want her. For a second, it had seemed like he was going to give in, it was like he’d fallen into that kiss, but then he’d shoved her away like he was repulsed by her.
Was he?
Guess she couldn’t really fault him if he was.
After all, she was naked, her backside still smarted if she sat on it, she hadn't been given a shower since she arrived, and she knew this was day four because she’d been given three breakfasts and was waiting on the fourth.
She smelled, she felt dirty so she had to look it, her hair was a mess, and …
why was she coming up with ways to excuse the human trafficker for turning her down?
His rejection shouldn’t hurt, it should be a relief.
Although it hadn't been a complete rejection. He’d been hard, hot, and huge beneath her palm, and he’d said he didn't want her like this, not that he didn't want her at all. That she couldn’t consent, given she was a prisoner, that he didn't want her until … but he’d never finished that sentence, so she didn't know what the until was.
Could it be possible that Nathan was intending to buy her?
Maybe that was why he kept stepping in and taking over when she was being hurt by one of the others. Maybe he already saw her as his possession, but he didn't want anything from her until it was official.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms tighter around her middle.
Part of her was relieved at the possibility that Nathan might end up being her owner.
She knew it was a better option than anything else she could possibly hope for in her situation.
But the other part of her still rebelled at the idea of being owned by anyone.
She wasn't a possession, wasn't a thing, wasn't a pet.
She was a human being, and she belonged only to herself.
Anger at her situation surged, and she knew she needed to stop clinging to Nathan like a lifeline and relying on the fact that he would continue to step in on her behalf.
He wasn't a lifeline. He was part of this, part of what was happening to her, part of the plan to destroy her, break her into so many pieces that she could never hope to put them all back together again.
The more she allowed herself to indulge in this delusion rather than face the truth of the situation she had been dragged into, the harder it was going to be.
Sooner or later, that reality was going to come crashing down upon her.
Already she could feel its weight, it hung just above her, some moments feeling heavier, others lightening a little.
But it was always there, because the more time she spent there, the more she came to realize that she wasn't walking out. At least not as a free woman. The only way she was leaving was as someone’s property.
No matter how much she hated that word, it was the truth.
The fact that she wasn't even embarrassed anymore about being naked made her accept that their programming had already begun and was already taking effect.
There were bigger things for her to worry about than a lack of clothing, and she was sure that was how they were going to break her.
More things would be normalized, her limits pushed beyond what she thought she could endure, and before she knew it, all she cared about was avoiding the pain and suffering by doing anything asked of her.
Not asked.
Ordered.
Commanded.
Because these people didn't have to bother with asking, when she was their prisoner they could do whatever they chose to her. They controlled every thing she did, and they made no moves to hide their plans for her.
Panic thudded against the walls she’d built to keep it out. Walls built of nothing more than stubborn determination and avoidance. But avoidance would only work for so long. Especially as she knew things were going to continue to get worse.
Suddenly, the air shifted.
Well, it didn't really, Emma knew that, but she sensed his presence even before she heard the faint squeak of the breakfast trolley.
Nathan was there, and immediately the panic that just seconds ago had been battering at her walls, ready to break them down and render her useless, receded to a more manageable distance.
His eyes were on her, she knew it, felt it, as she watched him make his way up and down the corridor, stopping to deliver food to the woman in each cell. He skipped hers, and for a second she thought she was being punished for what she’d tried to do yesterday.
Then their gazes met, clashed, and his steady presence calmed her all over again.
When he’d delivered all the other trays, he stopped outside her door and waited. Much as she hated to do it, Emma shifted so she was on her knees, waiting, but still not willing to give the complete submission of lowering her gaze.
Nathan never asked her to, and seemingly satisfied with her half submission, he unlocked the door and brought in her meal.
For once, it was more than two slices of plain toast. There were scrambled eggs and a slice of bacon, and it looked like her toast had been buttered.
Small luxuries that normally wouldn't mean anything, but here in this place meant everything.
“You're going to be a good, obedient girl today, aren't you, blondie?” Nathan asked as he stopped in front of her, the plate still in his hand.
A snappy retort that would likely only get her in trouble was on the tip of her tongue, but there was something in Nathan’s voice that prevented her from letting it out.
He sounded worried, concerned, and since he was there of his own free will, able to come and go as he pleased, she couldn’t think of anything he’d have to feel anxious about.
“I mean it, blondie.” His voice had dropped low, making it so no one else would likely hear it, and there was a growing urgency to it. “Be a good girl for me today. Do as you’re told and don’t make a fuss.”
“I can't just blindly do as you and your …” Emma hesitated, she’d been about to say friend, but he hadn't liked her calling them his friends yesterday. “Colleagues tell me to. If you want to break me, you're going to have to work for it, I won't make it easy.”
In a flash, he had her up off the floor, his hand around her neck, her back pressed against the wall.
Somehow, he hadn't spilled a drop of food from her tray. Expecting the hand at her neck to crush her airways, cut off her ability to breathe, maybe even kill her here and now, instead, Nathan’s touch was almost gentle, and his fingers brushed over the hollow in her neck where her pulse pounded wildly.
“Please, Emma,” he said softly, his voice a mere hint of a sound, like he didn't want anyone overhearing him.
“I told you that I won't always be there to step in, and today I won't. So remember that if you want to stir up trouble, remember you’ll have to take the full punishment that’s dished out to you. Please, blondie, make smart choices today. Please.”
When he released her, abruptly turned, set her tray on the floor, and stormed out of the cell, she was more confused than ever about the man. That last word really had sounded like a plea, almost like he was begging her not to get herself into trouble because he wouldn't be there to help her out.
But why did he care?
She’d been brought here to be broken and sold. Why did it feel like that was the last thing in the world Nathan wanted to happen?
August 3rd
10:36 A.M.
Driving away from the warehouse had never felt wrong before.
Actually, for Nathan, it was usually more of a relief. He got to let his guard down, be himself for a little while, and not have to fixate over every word he spoke, every facial expression, or every movement, to make sure he didn't give himself away.
Working undercover was a surefire way to get yourself into an early grave. Either fate caught up with you, your luck ran out, and you met a bullet with your name on it, or the constant stress of having to be on guard twenty-four seven finally wore your body down enough that it just gave up on you.
This might be the life he’d chosen, and it might be what he was good at, but there were days like today when he wanted to throw it all away and be normal.
If he were normal, he could meet Emma at a bar or a coffee shop, ask her out on a date, get to know her, share sweet kisses and fiery ones that set his body alight.
Then if things went well, he could propose, do the whole big, fancy wedding, or elope, whatever she wanted, welcome children into the world, and grow old side by side.
Emma.