Chapter Thirty-Four
Amelie
“Mother fuckers!” I scream, wincing as my head protests my overuse of decibels.
Onyx was right when he said I was going to be abducted.
Although, with it being a fake kidnapping, you would have thought they could have been a little more gentle with me.
My head throbs from where I was clobbered as they grabbed me, and I suspect my lip is split, the tang of blood coating my mouth.
Because fake or not, warned or not, they fucking scared me and it’s natural instinct to fight back.
So I gave them hell until they knocked me out.
Even got a few decent hits in, and managed to get one fucker right in the eye with the can of pepper spray. Onyx will be proud.
My face is covered, probably with a pillowcase if I had to guess, so I keep my breathing slow and even. The sound of footsteps is long gone, but I don’t know if there’s anyone in the room with me or watching. I haven’t dared to move after coming round on what I’m presuming is a bed.
The crackle of a speaker alerts me before a voice fills the air, but I still jump nervously. I don’t like this at all.
Welcome to the rest of your life. Here, there are no second chances. One in and one out. Get up, get dressed, and when you exit the door, be prepared to never look back.
The sound fades from the room, and I realise that my wrists are now unbound. They weren’t before. I stretch and discover the same is true for my ankles too. Reaching up, I remove the slip from my head and look around. I was right; it was a pillowcase. At least it looks clean.
The room I’m in resembles something from a modern-day fairytale, which is weird, because that’s my nightmare.
It’s all ornate furniture and over the top gilding.
I slide down off the sumptuous bed, noticing a deep magenta silk dress hanging on a clothes rack in the centre of the room.
Yeah, thanks, I’ll pass on that. It looks like something my mother – or not mother – would pick out for me.
Or a nightie. Would I rather leave here in just my underwear though? Who the hell stripped me of my clothes?
This has to be a test, right? Think, Amelie!
It can’t be as simple as putting on a pretty dress and everything will suddenly be fine.
So why a dress? I’ll be more exposed, vulnerable, less able to fight back.
I hunt through the room but there’s literally no other clothing options for me, unless I want to fashion a toga out of a bed sheet or something.
Resigned to the slip that’s been left for me, I waste no time getting dressed.
Of course it fits like a dream, but there’s no boots in sight.
Whoever picked the outfit must have known me well enough to get me a wedged heel though, rather than a stiletto.
Although, I could have at least used a stiletto as a weapon.
Wedges won’t do shit in a fight, except slow me down and maybe lead to a broken ankle.
A dresser is situated against the far wall, makeup you can only dream about lined along the top in front of the mirror.
I’m not one to mess around and layer my face with it, but I do get to work putting on enough to accentuate my best features.
I can’t imagine why I would need to be dressed up for this crap though, but I guess I need to play the game.
What next?
Onyx once said Harold hates me. What better way to get rid of me than to have me taken care of during initiation?
Smalls’ voice comes to me: Never go into a situation unarmed. There is always a weapon around.
He’s right. I pick up the small handbag that was left with the dress and then move around the room to see what I can find.
I take a bottle of perfume – not as handy as pepper spray, but it’ll do in a pinch – and throw it in the bag, along with a pointy ended metal nail file, a heavy paperweight and some dental floss – the waxed flat tape kind that’s actually really strong.
That will have to do, there’s not a lot else in the room I can get creative with. No phone either.
With a deep breath, I turn to face the only thing out of place in the room: a large metal door.
This is it.
On unsteady legs, I walk the short distance and turn the handle, a gasp escaping my lips as I see that a limo awaits me outside.
It’s all so odd. Who equips a fairytale.
..cabin in the woods I notice...with a high security metal door?
Who kidnaps a person to dress them up and treat them like a princess. This is too strange.
The driver gets out, circles the vehicle and opens my door, and I slip inside. I have no idea where I am or what’s happening, but thanks to Onyx’s head’s up, I don’t feel the need to run away, screaming for my life. Yet. I’ll wait, see what’s going on.
Inside the limo, a man in his mid-thirties sits across from me, which I didn’t expect.
“Amelie, I take it?”
I nod, making sure to sit as far away from him as possible. Just because he has a beautiful white smile, long dark eyelashes, and the face of a god, doesn’t make him safe.
“We will be at our destination shortly. We have to make a quick pit stop to fuel up,” the driver announces before sliding the partition back up. Mr dark and beautiful doesn’t look my way again, typing away on his phone instead.
I wish I knew where we were going. Why do I need a chaperone?
Why, why, why...so many questions race around my brain.
I look out the window as we drive, wanting to make sure I take note of anything that could be helpful to me if for some reason they ditch me and I have to walk.
It’s no use though; it’s pitch black and the only thing I can see is a heap of trees. Damn it.
The man’s phone rings and he answers. I immediately recognise that they are speaking in Italian.
I don’t speak it fluently, but my father still throws some out occasionally, mostly when he’s mad and wanting to curse us out without Aadi or I knowing.
Seriously though, what teenagers don’t know cuss words in foreign languages?
Especially when it’s the native language of a parent.
I smile fondly at the memories before my minder curses under his breath and draws me back to the present.
The hairs on my arms stand on end when I understand one sentence: The girl will sell for a lot.
Aadi attempted to learn the language when he was twelve.
He was practising hard and he was supposed to say ‘the cow will sell for a lot’.
Instead he changed it to girl to get a laugh out of his tutor.
I mean, it would be funny to a teenage boy, especially one hell-bent on selling his sister to the circus, but now my stomach is in knots.
Would Harold really sell me? Why? To what end? And to whom?
This doesn’t feel like an initiation prank anymore.
Maybe I was wrong about him killing me..
.selling me makes more sense; it would be almost impossible to find me, and with no body turning up, he wouldn’t be breaking any rules.
He could spin it that I freaked out during my ‘test’ and ran away.
I doubt the guys would have approved this kind of test. Did they even get a say?
Do they know what I’m going through? Onyx knew enough to warn me.
I bide my time. We have to stop, the driver said as much, but I can make a plan. I need to get away. After another ten minutes the limo pulls into a small service station. The driver jumps out and starts to fuel up the car. It’s now or never.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I blurt out. The stranger looks up from his phone and nods. He wouldn’t expect me to run, because where would I go?
I don’t trust the driver, he could be in on whatever this is, and the workers inside could end up dead before help came.
The driver heads inside to pay for his fuel, which makes me thankful this is a dingy old place where you have to go in and pay, no fancy pay at pump here.
I slide out of the car and my chaperone goes straight back to his phone, unconcerned.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and duck down below the window to crawl around to the driver’s side.
I’m thankful that the car is a limo with a divider separating the driver from the passengers.
I pray to a god I don’t believe in that the driver left the keys in the ignition, and fortunately for me, he did.
The one thing I love is that I can lock the entire car from the front, locking my minder inside. My only issue is that I have no idea where I am.
Fuck.