Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
“Lunch time,” William announced in a voice that Makayla found far too cheerful, as the door to the room swung open.
Deacon and Josh were with him, and they carried six trays between the three of them.
It didn’t take much for her to guess which one was hers.
So far, the other women had been fairly amenable to anything asked of them, and just as they’d been informed, that meant they were earning themselves “privileges”.
Not that she considered a blanket, pillow, and food a privilege.
Anyway, four of the trays—she already knew they were for Bethany, Crystal, Tammy, and Debra—held a reasonably sized salad sandwich, along with a piece of fruit, and a bottle of water.
One of the other trays had a smaller sandwich, looked like ham and cheese, no fruit, and a glass of water.
That one would be for Cecilia, who had been more compliant than she had but not as compliant as the others.
The final tray held a slice of plain bread and a tiny glass of water. That one was hers.
If she’d get down on her knees and beg for it.
If the same pattern as the last couple of days held, she would be denied lunch for noncompliance, but given breakfast and dinner, because they didn't want her to die, since she was supposed to make them a lot of money. It was a good thing that she’d long since learned to handle hunger pains.
Who knew that one day she’d actually be grateful for being starved several times throughout her childhood?
Already, the four women were on their knees, waiting for their food.
It didn't surprise her that people could be conditioned so quickly to do anything to avoid pain, to buy themselves the smallest scraps of affection, she’d seen it growing up in foster care.
There were kids who would do anything their foster parents demanded, more than was asked of them, just to gain the position of favorite.
Not that it ever earned them anything genuine, and certainly not the love and acceptance that they craved.
Just like these women wouldn't earn what they really wanted, their freedom.
“You going to cooperate today, one four six?” Josh asked as he set Cecilia’s tray down in front of her, who moved into position much more slowly than the others.
“What do you think, Josh?” she asked.
His brows immediately formed a V as he scowled at her.
They hated both when she used their names and when she didn't complain about them assigning her a number.
But she didn't care what they thought, they could only punish her for one thing at a time anyway, so annoying them didn't really change anything.
“Guess you like to go hungry then,” he snapped like that was a good comeback.
“Guess you're deliberately obtuse,” she replied calmly from her bed. “We all know I’m starving. I'm just not prepared to compromise my principles for food. I do understand that you don’t get principles, though, Josh.”
“You’ve been told not to call us by our names,” he hissed.
She’d already figured out that he was the youngest and least experienced of the men and by far the easiest to annoy.
What made it even more fun was that the others always laughed at him, taunting him when he fell for her very obvious attempts to bother him.
“And you’ve been told not to call me by a number, guess neither of us are great listeners.”
“Maybe I should just cut your tongue right out of your mouth, then you can't call me anything,” Josh whined.
“Maybe you could, but I doubt it would be a good financial decision, since I can't imagine one of the sick perverts who are your customers would appreciate damaged goods.
If they find cutting out a tongue a turn on, I'm sure they’ll do it themselves.
Besides, that wouldn't stop me thinking it,” she said, smiling sweetly.
Deacon and William laughed, and Josh went bright red. Throwing her tray across the room, shattering both the glass and the plate, he stormed toward her.
Tammy let out a shriek, and Debra began to cry at the loud sounds before apologizing over and over again for violating the rules and making a sound. Cecilia’s gaze snapped to hers when Josh roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.
Giving a surreptitious nod, Makayla readied herself for the fight of her life.
She’d been waiting to be taken out of this room again, and finally it was going to happen.
Wherever she was taken, she wasn't going to hesitate to look for a way to use it to her advantage.
It was even better that Josh was going to be the one with her, because his inexperience gave her an edge.
“I'm sick of your attitude,” Josh growled as he yanked her across the room. “You think you're better than us, but I'm going to make you crack. Everybody cracks eventually.”
“Yeah, and I'm sure little Joshy will be the one to make it happen.” William snorted.
“Shut up,” Josh yelled at his friend, making both William and Deacon laugh again.
“It’s not about cracking, Josh,” she told him as he pulled her out into the hall. “It’s just that I've already survived these same horrors you think can break me. My entire life was one hellish monster after another punishing me for the sin of existing, you're no different than they are.”
“And you're no different from the rest of them. You’ll crack no matter what you think, they all do,” he snarled as he threw open a door and shoved her inside hard enough that she stumbled, lost her footing, and hit the floor on her knees. Which, ironically enough, was just where he’d wanted her.
“You think breaking me will make them respect you?” she asked.
Launching himself at her, his fingers tangled in her hair as he dragged her back to her feet. “Watch your mouth,” he yelled as he backhanded her across the cheek hard enough that she tasted blood.
With his grip in her hair, Makayla had no choice but to walk with him when he started moving.
She caught a glimpse of a spanking bench in the corner, and since that seemed to be where he was heading, she assumed that’s where he wanted to put her.
On the wall beside it was an array of whips, canes, floggers, and paddles, definitely tools she could use if she could just get free.
“I'm going to tie you to this and leave you there indefinitely,” Josh continued, ranting as he reached out and grabbed a large dildo.
“I'm going to shove this inside you and make you come over and over again while I spank you. What Van did will seem like a tickle compared to what I’ll do. I’ll cane you until your blood is streaming down onto the floor, hit you hard enough that you won't be able to sit down ever again without still feeling the impact.”
“I don’t think so,” she snarled, kicking back as hard as she could as Josh tried to manhandle her onto the spanking bench.
It was nothing more than pure luck that she connected with his groin, because she couldn’t see what she was doing from this angle with her long hair all tangled about her face.
The only reason she even knew where she got him was because of his howl of pain and the immediate lack of strength in his grip on her hair.
Yanking herself away, Makayla didn't even care that a chunk of hair was ripped from her scalp in the process.
All that mattered was that he was no longer on her.
Hunched over as he was, clutching his precious appendage, he wasn't looking at her, and Makayla knew this was the best chance she was ever going to have.
So she launched herself at the wall of torture tools and grabbed the largest, heaviest-looking paddle she could.
“Don’t even think about it,” Josh ordered, voice strained.
When he tried to reach for her, his movements were clumsy. She’d obviously scored a direct hit, and he was in a lot of pain because of it, so she was easily able to dodge out of his grasp.
Remembering Van’s warning, not to think about what she was doing, to focus only on her own survival, to shut her feelings down and deal with them later, Makayla swung her weapon directly at Josh’s head.
It connected with a loud crack she hadn't been expecting.
Josh swayed and went down on his knees.
But it wasn't enough.
She needed to know he was incapacitated.
Makayla swung again.
This time, Josh slumped down onto the ground.
The wooden implement in her hands felt almost impossibly heavy, and her heart urged her to stop there. He was probably down and out, she could use this opportunity to run.
Only she knew she had to be sure.
Bringing the paddle above her head, clutching it in both hands, she brought it down one final time on Josh’s head.
Blood covered the paddle, Josh and hers, but she didn't stop to worry about it. If she didn't want to waste another chance at freedom, she had to run now.
August 28th
12:34 P.M.
For some reason, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about little Azalea.
Van had spent longer than he planned at the park with Falcon and his family, mostly because the toddler had been so excited about him having lunch with them that he’d stayed to eat with the family.
The little girl had chatted away in her toddler talk, excited and enthusiastic about everything, and her big sisters had chimed in often.
Surely, seven was old enough to see the truth, to sense his darkness, even if two wasn't, yet Falcon’s twins never so much as flinched when he was around. Weren't kids supposed to be good judges of character?
Or was that dogs?
Whatever. It certainly wasn't the first time his boss’ kid had been excited to see him.
She always was. So it wasn't like he could say anything about him had changed between the last time he saw Azalea and this time, but this was the first time he’d ever given much thought to it.
Over time, he’d just become so accustomed to people shying away from him.
Even kids used to do it when he was at school, and other adults when he was in the military.
It was one of the reasons he’d gravitated toward undercover work, so he could work alone.