Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Ascending out of the fog felt almost impossible.
It pushed down upon her, a thick, heavy blanket, smothering her slowly. Not literally, not cutting off her air supply, but extinguishing her flame, threatening to put it out for good because it was just too hard to think. To function. To exist.
As the drugs in her system faded, Makayla half expected a man with an expressionless face to step in and deliver a new dose. That’s what had happened the few times she’d begun to surface from the sedative-induced darkness.
The first time she was on a plane, slumped over in a seat, buckled in with a blanket tossed haphazardly over her, when she started to wake.
Like they’d been watching her, knowing the drugs would soon wear off, she’d hardly had time to process her surroundings before a man was there, shoving another needle into her arm, and the world once again faded away.
Only that time, there was no comforting woodsy scent from the body she was cradled against. No kiss to her forehead as the final thing she remembered before she went under.
Because Van was long gone.
The second time she’d woken up, they’d been walking up the steps into another plane. Well, she hadn't been walking, someone was carrying her, but she was able to blink open heavy eyes and look around her, see that they were at an airfield, and that they were changing to a small plane.
Voices speaking a language she didn't understand, only knew what it was because she knew she’d been bought from a guy in Japan, rumbled around her, and as soon as they were in the plane, another syringe had been inserted into her body and more drugs administered.
Once more, she’d woken in the back of a car.
A limo from the size of it. Three men had been there with her, and she wasn't sure if any of them were the guy who had purchased her, but in the end, it didn't matter.
More drugs entered her system, and once again, she drifted away on a hazy cloud of darkness.
Four lots of drugs in her system so close together had taken a toll, and she felt woozy now. Light and heavy at the same time. Almost like she could float away up into the great big Milky Way if only her limbs weren't encased in concrete holding her down.
Of course, there was no real concrete, and as she forced her eyes open and blinked several times to clear away the fuzziness, she looked down at her body and saw that she wasn't even restrained in any way.
Lifting a hand, she rubbed at her temples.
She was cold to the touch, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the temperature or the drugs that would probably take hours to fully leave her system.
Because she knew that this was all on her, that she had no backup, that while she didn't doubt Van would do as he promised and send people in after her, she had no idea how easy that would be to enact, Makayla pulled herself together. The fuzziness in her head was probably going to last a while, there was nothing she could do about it, but she did know she couldn’t waste time waiting for it to clear up.
If she wanted to live, every second counted.
Every single one.
So she pressed a hand to her stomach where nausea churned unpleasantly, tried to swallow even though her mouth felt as dry as the desert, and pushed herself up into a sitting position.
Since her mind was still clogged with drugs, she tried to focus on one thing at a time, build a picture of her surroundings so she could start figuring out the best way to escape.
It might not be possible, but she would never stop trying.
Never, and especially not now. Van … he intrigued her in a way no other man ever had.
He was fighting against himself, she totally got it, and he was too scared to try living any other way than what felt safe and comfortable to him.
For him, that was pretending his emotions no longer existed and shutting everything else out.
But he hadn't shut her out.
Not completely.
He’d tried, she knew he had, and she also knew he probably resented her for stirring up feelings he wasn't interested in. But he’d shown her glimpses of the man beneath the empty smile, and she wondered if maybe she could like that man.
There was every chance she’d never get a chance to find out, even if she survived, was rescued, and went back home.
But if the universe presented her with an opportunity to try, then she’d take it.
If she wanted that chance, then she had to survive.
So she looked down at her body, saw that she was still wearing the white sundress Marvin had brought for her.
There was nothing beneath it, she hadn't been given panties or a bra, but there was no new throbbing or stickiness between her legs, so she didn't think she’d been violated while she was unconscious.
It didn't really matter either way, it was coming, it was why she was here.
But it was nice not to have had it happen to her while she was at her most vulnerable.
Glancing down at her wrists, she saw there was bruising there that was likely from the leather straps.
No fresher marks were layered on top of them, so she didn't think she’d been restrained at any point.
The drugs had ensured she was no flight risk anyway, so restraints would have been pointless.
There were no specific aches or pains anywhere in her body, just a general steady throbbing that came from being starved for days, dehydrated, and the drugs.
Now that she’d ascertained that she herself was reasonably okay, Makayla turned her attention to her surroundings.
The floor beneath her was hard, smooth beneath her fingertips as she ran them over it, and when she looked down, expecting to find concrete, she was instead surprised to find wooden floorboards.
The expensive kind, if the polish on them was anything to go by.
Expecting that she would be kept in a basement or something similar to the room where she’d woken up after being abducted, the flooring pushed that idea out of her mind, and she blinked again to clear more of the blurriness from her vision and looked around.
Behind her was a bed, it was beautiful, with an intricately carved headboard, and a soft, floaty white canopy draped around it.
All the covers on it were also white, and she realized the white dress she’s been put in had fluked to match with the aesthetic her new owner was going for.
Pushing to her feet, Makayla fought off a sickening wave of dizziness and kept looking around.
There was a rocking chair with a small end table in one corner, both in similar dark woods like the bed, then there was also a clawfoot tub, a small sink with some toiletries spread out on the vanity around it, and a toilet.
A teeny tiny little place to live, like someone intended to keep her alive for a long time.
That was good, right?
Being kept alive gave Van’s colleagues plenty of time to come for her.
The wall behind the bed and the bath had wainscoting in dark wood, and above it, the walls were painted a soft golden yellow.
She’d half expected it to be white, but as she spun in a slow circle, she noticed that while the furnishings in the room were white, everything else was dark wood, and then the yellow walls.
This little room was part of a much larger one, and as she staggered forward a few steps, she pressed her hands up against glass and realized this was like a viewing room.
She was inside a room within what looked like a huge bedroom.
There was an enormous four-poster bed directly across from her, two small seating areas, an open door she could see led through to a walk-in wardrobe, and she suspected an ensuite bathroom as well, since the only other door opened out onto a hall.
There were large windows, although with wispy lace curtains covering them, it was hard to see through and get a clear picture of whatever lay beyond.
She felt like a fish in a fishbowl. An animal in a cage at the zoo.
Was that how the man who had bought her saw her?
As his new pet that he wanted to keep close and be able to watch while he reclined in bed?
Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Surely, he hadn't bought her just to leave her in here and watch her, that seemed like an exorbitant amount of money to spend just to do that.
There was no kitchen for her to prepare meals, so at some point, someone had to open a door to bring her food.
Unless … maybe that’s why he didn't care whether she was trained or not. Maybe he got off on locking her in here and watching her slowly wither away from starvation.
August 30th
2:46 P.M.
Disappearing straight after Makayla was sold would have been a blatant statement that there was something different about him.
Van never cared when the women were sold.
Usually, he was relieved because they were Prey’s responsibility now.
His job wasn't to rescue them, it was to stop the same thing that had happened to them from happening to anyone else. He’d always taken his job seriously, because, well, what else did he have?
No family, no friends, no hobbies. His job was his life, which made it easy for him to sacrifice months of his life to being undercover.
Sometimes he’d adopt hobbies for a persona, like here at Azure, he was the guy who was obsessed with movies and was always glued to one screen or another, but in his real life, he had nothing.
Moved from one undercover gig to another, occasionally went to a Prey event if he wasn't undercover, but only if Falcon made him feel like it was unavoidable.
For the last two decades, he’d been able to shut himself off from everyone, feeling nothing for another person, no matter what they were going through. He’d been able to compartmentalize like a pro, and he’d never had to worry about emotions getting in the way of anything he did.
Until now.
Until one woman didn't cry and beg when he caned her.