Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
“Rise and shine, one three nine.”
The words had Emma jerking from sleep, unaware she’d even drifted off, to find Hank standing in front of her cage.
Even though there were no windows, so no way to let in natural light and mark the passing of time, she knew it had to be early. Some of the other women were still asleep, although the one in the cage beside her was watching her with pitying eyes as though she knew what was about to happen.
Whatever it was would be bad, and it didn't look like she would have Nathan nearby for support.
Honestly, the only reason she’d even gotten through what happened yesterday was because of his steady presence.
Emma wasn't sure whether it was obvious or just because she knew the truth now, but she’d seen the murderous rage in his eyes as she was forced to kneel for close to an hour while one by one the men got themselves off, painting her body with the evidence of their release.
Since she had no water to clean herself, barely enough to drink to stave off dehydration, and it was clear that her refusal to participate in the group shower meant they had no intention of letting her wash up any time soon, her body was still covered in that evidence, although it was no longer wet and sticky, now dry and crusty.
It made her entire body itch, although she’d done her best to wipe off as much of it as she could with her hands when she’d eventually been brought back to her cell.
Now she wondered what new hell these monsters were going to dump on her.
Glancing down the hallway, she saw no sign of Nathan, and since they hadn't had a chance to talk, she had no idea if he lived at the facility, or somewhere else, if he was close enough that he’d realize something was up and come swooping in to save her.
He can't.
The words whispered through her mind, quiet but insistent.
Nathan had a job to do, and it wasn't playing her knight in shining armor. Yesterday, she’d gone along with the punishment the guys wanted because the alternative was Nathan blowing up his cover, and likely both of them winding up dead.
She could go along with this now to keep him safe and try to do her best not to cause more trouble for him.
He’d said he’d get her out, and she had to believe that, believe in him.
Still, the man hadn't used her name, so she shot him a glare. “It’s Emma.”
Hank merely chuckled like she was some sort of comedienne as he unlocked the door to her cell. “Come along then, Queen Emma, we’ve got a nice little hidey hole prepared for you.”
That didn't sound promising. Not that she could expect anything there to be promising. The only thing she was hoping for was Nathan getting her out. Although she had to accept the reality that it might never happen. He’d try, she knew that, but so many things could go wrong, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk his safety, and that of all the other women who would fall victim to the ring if it wasn't dismantled.
Although it was hard not to be selfish.
To wish just for her life to be saved, for her to get home to her family before this ordeal permanently scarred her soul.
But she was trying to be a good person, remember the bigger picture, accept that she was just one teeny tiny part of Azure and what they were doing, and that if she was sold so Nathan didn't ruin his cover, it was worth it to many in the long run even if it sucked for her.
Besides, Nathan had said he tagged each of the victims with a tracker so that Prey Security could come and rescue them. Even if she did get sold, it wouldn't be forever. Nathan’s colleagues would come for her even if he couldn’t.
Allowing Hank to grab her arm and tug her out of the cell and down the hall, she tried to prepare herself for what was going to happen.
It was hard since she had literally no idea what to expect.
Was she going to be spanked again? Were they going to use one of the whips on her she’d seen in that room?
Was she going to be sexually assaulted? Yesterday’s original punishment was supposed to be orgasms, and while she’d loved the one Nathan had given her, that was only because she knew he wasn't evil.
Hank was, and she certainly didn't want him touching her there.
Didn't want him touching her anywhere.
But nobody cared what she wanted.
They entered one of the rooms she hadn't been in yet, and her body stiffened when she saw a bed in one corner, and another held a doctor’s examination chair with stirrups you sat in when you visited a gynecologist. There was what amounted to a huge chest in the third corner, although she had no idea what purpose that served, and the final corner had a huge wooden cross with leather cuffs attached to it.
Emma shivered and hoped that wasn't where she was going to be put, although she didn't want any part of any of the furniture in this room. She didn't want to be here in this basement and wished she’d never stopped at the side of the road that night.
Hank dragged her over to the large chest and kept hold of her with one hand while he flipped the lid open with his other.
Inside, were a whole bunch of straps that looked like they were designed to hold her immobile, though she didn't know what purpose they would serve since presumably the chest lid would be closed, locking her inside.
“I'm not getting in there,” the words were out of her mouth before she could think. She’d promised herself yesterday, once she learned the truth about Nathan, that she would go along with anything that was asked of her, and try to focus on the fact that Nathan was working on getting her out.
But she couldn’t go in there.
She’d been claustrophobic for as long as she could remember, and the idea of being in there, possibly restrained, was too much.
“Don’t think anyone asked for your opinion on the matter, one three nine,” Hank said as he hoisted her up off her feet.
Emma fought.
As hard as she could.
Only she was no match for the solidly built man, and he shoved her into the chest, pinning her in place even as she flailed about, and locked a strap around her neck. The material was soft and didn't dig painfully into her skin, but it held her in place, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Giving up on trying to fight him off, Emma’s hands flew to the leather strap, hoping to get it off her before she completely lost her mind. But Hank calmly grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down until her arm rested at her side, then buckled her wrist into another strap.
Repeating the process with her other wrist, he then went on to lock her ankles in place. The chest was wide enough that her legs were spread slightly, although she wasn't sure what purpose that was going to have if she was locked inside.
Another strap was locked over her stomach just above her hips, and then he lifted one near her mouth, and she lost all sense of self-control.
“Please,” she begged. “I’ll be good. You don’t have to lock me in here. I don’t want that over my mouth. I won't be able to breathe.”
“You're not going to suffocate, one three nine,” Hank told her, unmoved by her pleas.
“I'm claustrophobic.”
“Then this isn’t going to be fun for you,” he said with a grin.
Snapping her teeth at him as he moved the gag strap over her mouth, it didn't do any good, and a wadded-up piece of material was shoved between her lips, then the length of the strap locked into place on the other side of her head.
Even though the material now prevented her from talking, she continued to beg, screaming out pleas even though they were nothing more than garbled gibberish. Hank ignored her and lifted another strap, this one lined up to cover her eyes, leaving her completely helpless.
The panic was unlike anything else Emma had ever experienced.
Worse even than when she’d woken up here and realized she’d been abducted by sex traffickers.
She thrashed.
She fought.
She struggled.
But nothing changed her fate.
The last thing she heard was Hank chuckling, then his fingers trailed down her body, from her cheek all the way down to between her legs, where he gave a hard pinch of her bud before he slammed the lid closed, leaving her locked in what felt far too much like her tomb.
August 4th
8:10 A.M.
He was a few minutes late with breakfast this morning, and Nathan was so on edge it felt like his skin was too tight for his body.
This need to constantly check in on Emma was going to wind up getting him into trouble if he couldn’t get a handle on it.
Getting both of them into trouble. Because if his cover was broken, and Azure suspected that he had formed an attachment to Emma, they wouldn't hesitate to use that against him. Punish her for his sins.
Last night, he’d actually had to switch his phone off because he was compulsively checking the camera feed for the basement.
It had been a seemingly never-ending cycle until around two in the morning when he’d finally decided he needed to do something about it.
Now more than ever, it was imperative that he be at the top of his game.
Saving others was always important to him, but saving Emma was everything.
There was no way he could allow lack of sleep to make him sloppy.
So he’d switched the phone off, cleared his mind, and thankfully fallen into a somewhat unsettled sleep.
Five hours was all he got, but it was enough to keep him sharp.
A quick workout at the gym, shower, and he’d been in the kitchen to collect the breakfast trolley before Ernie could take it down.
Someone—or multiple someones—was probably wondering why he’d made this seemingly mundane task part of his daily ritual, but he didn't care.
It was a way to ensure he could check in on Emma regularly without raising suspicions.
Or at least with minimal suspicions.