Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
The gun never wavered as Asahi Watanabe pointed it at her as he talked on his phone.
As soon as he got off the phone, Makayla was going to make her move. She wanted to do it now, but she was afraid that if she did anything while there was a witness, that person would call someone else here, and she’d just have more people to deal with.
When she’d agreed to come back and provide the distraction the guys needed, the plan had been for her to endure whatever punishment the man had decided to inflict on her, while the guys searched for evidence.
They weren't exactly sure how they’d get her out.
They’d told her that it all depended on how things played out and what they found, but she trusted them to do it, and had steeled herself ready to endure whatever was coming.
But if Asahi Watanabe planned to kill her because he thought she was more trouble than she was worth, then that plan had changed.
Letting the man torture her was one thing.
Of course, she’d hate it, but she’d do anything within her power to help Azure get shut down, but she didn't want to die.
Nor did she think Van or any of the others would expect her to just sit here and let him kill her.
Especially Van.
If she died, she was pretty sure it would destroy him.
Which sounded super egotistical of her, because they’d only known each other for such a short time, and it wasn't like they’d spent lots of nice time together getting to know one another.
Given how they’d met and the things he’d done to her, she probably should hate him, but how could she hate him for doing despicable things for honorable reasons?
The man had changed right before her eyes. He was trying to fight through years of layers he’d placed between himself and his emotions. She didn't know why she was what made him want to change, but she was, and she didn't want him to hurt if anything happened to her.
So she stood where she was, doing her best to ignore the pain in her feet, kept her muscles tensed and ready, while trying to look like she wasn't preparing to pounce. While the others all had their comms units and could communicate with one another, they’d decided it was too risky to give her one too.
Because of that, she had no way to let them know that Asahi Watanabe wasn't planning on hurting her, he was planning on killing her.
Right here in the basement, while the men who were here to rescue her were upstairs.
Given how big the place was, screaming for them wouldn't work and would give away that she was prepared to fight to the death if necessary. Asahi Watanabe might know she was determined enough to escape, but she hoped he thought she was weak enough, exhausted enough, that she was all out of fight.
That would never happen.
If it came down to it, she would absolutely fight to the death.
Since he was speaking Japanese, she had no idea what the conversation was about, but from the tone of Asahi Watanabe’s voice and the expressions he made, she had to assume it was quite a heated conversation.
It had been going on and on, and she was getting antsy.
She wanted this to be over, wanted the guys to find their proof, get her out of here, and for all of them to be safe back home.
The thought that one of them might be hurt, or worse killed, because of her, was a terrifying one.
Muttering what she was pretty sure was a curse, Asahi Watanabe finally lowered his phone from his ear and ended the call. For a brief second, he closed his eyes, letting out an annoyed huff, before setting the phone down on a wooden table.
Because he’d been on the phone for so long, she’d had plenty of time to look around and get the layout of the basement room he’d brought her to.
It was kind of like what she’d expect a medieval torture chamber to look like.
There was a large wooden table over in the corner and a wooden chair set off to the side.
Both were stained with blood, and she assumed that Asahi Watanabe liked to strap his victims to them, knowing they weren't the first to sit there and bleed. There were tools hanging from a wall, pliers, hammers, saws, whips, canes, paddles, all lined up in a neat and tidy pattern like he’d taken a great deal of time making sure everything was just so.
To give the guys time, she would have let him use any one of them on her, would have allowed new injuries to be inflicted on her body, would have taken new scars that would forever mar her body and her mind, but she wasn't taking a bullet to the brain, which she assumed was how he was going to kill her. If she had her hands free, fighting back would be so much easier, but she’d do what she could.
she wasn't giving up, that wasn't even an option.
When their gazes met, she read her future in those dark brown eyes.
Death.
Punishment.
Retribution for making him look weak in front of his own organization.
She would no doubt serve as a warning for all the other women Azure would abduct, torture, break, and traffic if Van and the others couldn’t stop them.
“We’re going to film a little video first,” Asahi Watanabe told her, his voice calm, cultured, smooth.
If she heard it anywhere else, she would never guess what lurked beneath.
But since he was standing right in front of her and she could see the darkness swirling in his eyes, the hatred, the way he looked down on her, thought she was less than him, less than human, she saw it all.
“I won't cooperate filming a video,” she warned him, working to keep her own tone calm and controlled. If she could drag this out for as long as possible, she had a much better chance of surviving. Van wasn't going to be able to last long before he wanted to check on her. She had no idea how he’d intervene if he saw Asahi Watanabe holding a weapon on her, but she knew he’d do something.
All she had to do was hold on a little longer and this would all be over.
“I think we can come to an understanding where you agree that cooperation is your best course of action,” he told her. “Remove your clothing.”
Waving her bound hands at him, she shook her head even as she realized this was the perfect chance to get free. “Not sure how you expect me to do that when the goons you sent after me put these on.”
Tutting in irritation, he kept the gun pointed at her as he took two steps toward the table with the tools and turned his back on her. It was tempting to attempt making a move now, but she was restrained, and he could fire off a shot quicker than she could try to do anything.
So she waited.
Watched as he picked up a knife and then took a step toward her. It was clear from how he held both the knife and the gun that he was comfortable with the weapons. Maybe this man wasn't actively involved in running his trafficking ring, but he was actively involved in torturing the women he bought.
Never letting the gun waver, he stepped up before her. He wasn't much taller than her, a few inches at the most, and he was fairly slim. It didn't even the odds a lot in her favor, but it did help level the playing field.
Makayla wouldn't have put it past him to deliberately cut her skin as he either cut the clothing from her, or the plastic zip ties from her wrists, the same way Van had done that first day.
But although she braced for pain, it didn't come.
Instead, the man just slipped the blade under the bonds at her wrists and cut them off.
Then he took a step back and arched a brow at her like he’d won this power play, when really, he’d done exactly what she’d hoped he would.
Now her arms were free, all she had to do was get her hands on one of those weapons, ideally the gun, although she had no idea how she’d get it out of his hands.
Taking her time, pretending to shake out her deadened limbs, which wasn't really pretending, more like drawing it out, she shook them, trying to get normal blood flow restored. It hurt like hell, but there was no use wasting time worrying about it.
When she thought she’d gotten all the mileage out of restoring blood flow that she could, Makayla shifted her trembling fingers to the hem of the dress. As she pulled it up and over her head, she knew she wasn't going to get a better opportunity to act than this.
The material peeled off her body, and as it came over her head, she threw it at Asahi Watanabe, while diving sideways toward the table.
The gun went off with a crack, something burned along her side, but her fingers curled around a knife and she lifted it, prepared to wield it in a fight to the death.
September 2nd
5:06 A.M.
Van froze.
Was that a gunshot?
He’d searched every bedroom in both wings of the house and came up empty.
It was clear from the door to the glass cage standing open, and the blood inside being untouched, that Asahi Watanabe had never taken Makayla back there.
But he’d taken her somewhere. He’d checked in with Trigger, and the others, and Brain had assured him that no one had left the property.
So while the guys searched the office, he kept searching for his girl. Only the longer it took to find her, the more anxious he became.
It was already after five. They had less than thirty minutes until the loop in the security system would stop and start showing them sneaking about.
Plus, the closer they edged toward breakfast time, the more he expected a cook to show up in the kitchen, and a maid to set the huge table in the dining room.
They were running out of time, and he was running out of rooms, and now he’d heard what he was positive was someone firing a gun. And close by.
“Gunshots,” he said into his comms to alert the others.
“Need us to come?” Trigger asked immediately.