Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Who would have guessed that in the end, it was the quiet and dark that finally broke her.
Emma had been lying in there for what felt like days but was probably only hours, unable to move, unable to see, unable to make more than mumbles through the gag.
There was nothing to hear, although she knew that sporadically someone came into the room and used holes that must be in the box to touch her, but they seemed to move silently when they did so.
That first touch caught her by surprise, and she’d jerked against her restraints, her body’s fight or flight instincts kicking in even if there was nowhere for her to go. It had been nothing more than the whisper of a soft sweep across one of her arms, gone almost as quickly as it had come.
For a while, she thought she’d just imagined it.
That her panicked mind had created it because she was utterly terrified.
Then she’d spent ages waiting for the next touch.
When it came, it again had been a soft brush across the sole of her foot.
After that, all she did was lie there and anticipate touch.
A stroke on her leg, a brush across the top of her head, when something had swept across her center, she hadn't even cared because at least it was something, a reminder that she was more than the darkness, that she wasn't completely alone in the world.
This really was an effective way to break someone.
Between waiting for the next touch, Emma focused on keeping her breathing even.
Before this, breathing had always seemed like such a simple thing.
You just did it, it just was, it didn't require any conscious thinking.
But now, if she didn't want to panic and start sobbing hysterically as the feelings of being trapped and helpless overwhelmed her, she had to keep it slow and even.
It was that or suffocate to death when her nose got all stuffy.
Every nerve in her body felt like it was on edge.
Waiting.
For a touch.
Even if it was sexual.
Anything so she didn't feel this crushing loneliness.
Where are you, Nathan? Why haven’t you come for me?
At first, Emma expected him to come quickly, release her from her prison, and find a way to get her the hell out of there.
While she understood that maintaining his cover was paramount, that she was just one person in a much bigger game, that sacrificing her for the greater good was the right move, it was harder to hold onto that when it felt like her body was going to explode from the panic.
It was more than clear that he couldn’t—or wouldn't—be coming. So she had to endure. Had to survive. Had to ensure this didn't fracture her mind in a way she could never recover from.
Touch me. Please. Someone touch me.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
They all ticked by.
Nothing happened, and then …
“Hold on, blondie, I've got you.”
The ragged words barely registered, because Emma was holding on by a thread. A very weak and badly frayed thread. It was too hard to believe that Nathan was there. She’d probably just conjured him up because she needed to feel like he was with her, even if he wasn't.
Only it felt like fingers brushing across her temple. Beneath the blindfold, her eyes were closed, but she felt the pressure of it shifting. Then those fingers were at her jaw, which ached from being forced partially open by the gag for so many hours.
“I’m here, sweetheart, I'm here now, and I've got you,” Nathan murmured.
Was it really Nathan?
Felt like it was. Fingers seemed to be everywhere, unbuckling straps at her neck, her wrists, her ankles, and her stomach, but she was too afraid to open her eyes and look, just in case it was all some sort of hallucination.
“Aww, I wanted to be first in here,” another voice whined, only Emma was too exhausted to figure out which one of her tormentors it was.
“You know the rules, you snooze you lose,” Nathan shot back. “First one in here after eighteen hours is up gets to play.”
Eighteen hours?
Was that all it had been? She would have sworn she’d been in this box for days. It had felt like days, like an eternity.
There was some muttering, and then she heard the door slam closed. Hard enough that she flinched, so many hours lying alone in the dark and quiet, and now loud noises sounded excessively exaggerated.
“Shh, blondie, I've got you now,” Nathan said again, like he needed the reminder that she was safe in his arms as much as she did. Arms slid under her knees and then behind her back, and she was lifted out of the box, tucked against Nathan’s chest.
She had no idea where he was going to take her next, whether she was going back to her cell, or if he had something else in mind.
He’d said something about the first in here getting to play with her, so she wasn't sure if he was going to expect her to touch him, or have sex with him, or endure something else.
He wouldn't want to do it, but if they had to put on a show for the cameras, then neither of them had a choice.
Actually, even if she had a choice, she would rather let Nathan have sex with her than spend another second trapped in that box.
“Cameras are off, sweetheart,” he said as he set her down on something soft.
It had to be the bed because they hadn't left the room, and it was by far the most comfortable thing she’d been allowed to sit on since she climbed out of her car to help the motorist on the side of the road.
But it wasn't Nathan, and afraid he was going to let her go, she whimpered and reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her face to his chest, and trying to plaster as much of her body against his as she could muster.
“Shh, blondie, you're safe now, I'm here, I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere,” he murmured as he buried his face in her hair.
She wanted to believe that, but she couldn’t.
Because he couldn’t stay at her side every second, not without blowing his cover.
Sooner or later, he’d leave her again, and she’d wind up in that box, or on the spanking bench, or in the shower with the others, or someplace else she desperately didn't want to be.
“Sorry it took so long for me to get to you.
I watched you on the cameras until two in the morning before I knew I needed to stop to get some sleep.
I was down at eight with breakfast, but in that time, Hank got to you.
There was no way for me to demand you be let out without looking hella suspicious, so I had no choice but to wait the eighteen hours out.
I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I failed you.”
Not really.
Nathan had already gone above and beyond for her.
“Not your fault,” she whispered as her body trembled violently, shock settling in now that she was out of that nightmarish box.
“Let’s get you warm.” Maintaining his hold on her, Nathan maneuvered them both under the covers, tucking them right up around her chin as he lay down and settled her on top of him so they were lying chest to chest. “I’m so sorry, blondie.”
“You couldn’t have stopped it,” she reminded him.
“I should have. Should have known that after yesterday, they’d want to push you harder to break.”
“That … was the best way to do it,” Emma admitted. “I'm claustrophobic.”
Swearing, Nathan’s arms tightened around her. “Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?”
She could, but she didn't want to, just in case this really was some sort of hallucination even if it felt real.
But keeping her eyes closed was hiding, and she didn't have that luxury. No matter how afraid she’d been in that box, and how afraid she was of being put back into it, she had to keep fighting, keep moving forward.
“Will they do it again?” she whispered as she forced her eyes open to find Nathan’s face inches from hers.
“Maybe. It depends on whether they think you’ve learned your lesson. First time is eighteen hours, second is thirty-six, then seventy-two, it keeps doubling until the woman …”
“Breaks,” she finished for him when he trailed off. “What's the longest anyone has been in there before they broke?”
“Had a woman here a few months back who lasted one hundred and forty-four hours.”
Emma gasped in shocked horror. That was six days. She had been ready to lose it after less than a day.
“Won't let you go back in there,” Nathan said fiercely, framing her face with his large hands, and tilting her head up and back a little so she was forced to meet his blazing gaze.
“I broke protocol, called my boss, I'm going to go and pick up the drugs from him tomorrow, and we’re going to fake your death and get you out of here.”
It was a nice idea, but she was afraid to believe it. She’d allowed these men to know the perfect way to break her, so it was either do whatever they wanted or risk getting locked back in that box, and she was pretty sure she couldn’t survive that.
Lose, lose.
There was no situation where things worked out for her, and if Nathan couldn’t fake her death and get her to safety, she was going to lose herself.
Even if he could get her out, it wasn't like he’d be leaving with her.
He had a job to do, and she had no doubt that he could find what he needed to bring Azure down, but the thought of never seeing him again left her feeling like she’d be losing a piece of herself.
Whatever happened next, she’d never completely recover from.
August 5th
7:59 A.M.
“This your new job?” Ernie muttered as Nathan strode into the kitchen to collect the breakfast trolley.
Shrugging, he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Blondie, the new one, intrigues me.” That was an understatement, but at least it explained why he’d been taking the trolley down every morning, and why he’d been around Emma more than he was ever around any of the other women.