Chapter 8
River
The wrought iron gate looms ominously, a fit welcome for the nightmare that surely awaits me.. Elliott lowers his window to punch a code into the box. I crane my neck, trying my hardest to look around his large form to see what he inputs, but fail in doing so.
The gates open wide and he pulls the car through slowly.
A multi-level home stands tall ahead of us.
It’s pristine yet cold, every line sharp and unyielding.
Manicured hedges and polished stone paths only make the controlled perfection of the place feel more oppressive.
As we near the end of the driveway, a sinking fear grips me.
a brutal promise. Just the thought sends a shiver down my spine.
I’m trapped.
“We’re home,” he croons, pulling to a stop in front of the large mansion.
I want to tell him he’s wrong; this isn’t where I belong. I belong at my true home, in my closet, snuggled into my nest full of my scent with my blade between my fingers. But I can’t. Not with this fucking tape over my mouth. I try to mumble, but it just comes out as garbled sounds.
“You’ve shown yourself to be unruly.”
Unruly? Is that what we’re calling it when someone is scared for their life?
He reaches behind me into the backseat, coming back with chains attached to cuffs. My eyebrows raise in confusion, and I fight harder to try to open the door.
“I can already see the wheels turning in your head. You can think about running, but I’ll catch you and your punishment will be severe.” An evil smile spreads across his face. “Or maybe I’d like that. On the other hand, run, my little guinea pig. Run as fast as those legs will take you.”
He takes hold of my wrists, and I fight, but he’s too strong and overpowers me once again.
He places the cuffs on my wrists, locking them in place with ease as if he’s done this before.
Maybe he has, for all I know. I don’t know much about him, but a man who carries around duct tape and handcuffs in his car doesn’t exactly seem like the trusting type.
He gets out of the car, and I watch as he walks around the front of it and stops at my door.
This is my chance, I think. When he opens that door, I need to run. If I fall, I’ll get up and keep going. I’m sure he could catch me, but damn if I won't make him work to do it. Not when my life is on the line.
But when he opens the door, I don't get my chance to run. His hands move faster than I can. He grips onto my chains, all but yanking me out of the car. I stumble, falling down at his feet.
“Good to see you know where you belong, Omega. But we need to get inside. Now.” He gives the chains a yank, pulling me upward.
I trip over my feet as I try to keep up with him.
“Honey, we're home,” he shouts as he enters the house.
“Where have you been?” a deep voice calls from further inside the house.
“Just picking up our property. I didn’t want there to be any issues.” He leads me inside of a room, an office from the looks of it, and there behind the sleek mahogany desk sits Miles.
“Impatient fucker.” He groans, averting his attention back to his laptop, not even a question from him as to why I’m chained or have tape over my mouth.
“Tomato, tah-mah-to. I was just making sure our little omega and her scum father didn’t get cold feet,” Elliott states boldly before turning and licking up the length of my face with his harsh tongue.
“Mmm, tasty.”
“Stop toying with her.” Miles says apathetically. “Show her to her room.” Miles dismisses us away with his hand as if I’m nothing. Like this is just an average day for him .
Like they didn’t just up and take me as payment for my father's debt and kidnap me from my school, cutting me off from everyone.
“My pleasure.” Elliott’s tongue glides across his lower lip as his eyes rove over the length of my body. The look in his vicious gaze has every hair on my body standing on end.
“Enough with the theatrics, Elliott. Just take her to her room. Nothing else,” Miles orders him, his alpha bark surging through the room.
Elliott growls, and with one look from Miles, I whine, struggling to fight to submit to his control already.
But I can’t. I won’t. The only thing I need to do right now, is survive. And find some way to escape from here.
“Fine, but I’m not waiting much longer,” Elliott says through gritted teeth, before turning and heading to the door, yanking on my chains to pull me behind him like a dog.
“Come on, guinea pig. I can’t wait for you to see your room. We made it a nest. Just for you.” He says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“I even took the liberty of adding our clothing to it. I know how omega’s love to have their alphas’ scents as much as they do their knots.” Bile rises in my stomach when he turns quickly toward me, grabbing his crotch.
Gross!
He leads us up the staircase and I stumble, my hand crashing down on the wooden step.
“Get up,” he orders, and I fight to hold back the tears.
“Get up,” he barks again, and I slowly stand, falling into step behind him. I follow without hesitation as we step onto the second floor and move down the long hallway.
“We put your nest close to our rooms, of course, so don’t get any bright ideas about escaping. I assure you, we’ve thought of everything.”
I notice all the doors are closed as we pass them, until he stops at one on the right, at the very end of the hallway.
“Here we are.” He takes hold of the handle and opens the door wide, giving me my first glance inside.
The room is bare, stripped of anything that might soften it.
My gaze catches on the mattress laying flat on the floor.
It’s oversized, fluffy, and full of pillows in varying shades of brown, gray, and some muted color I don’t even think is a color but rather a conglomerate of patchy fabrics.
There's a black comforter, which is thrown over the mattress like a shadow. Or an omen.
On top sits a small pile of shirts, folded with an eerie neatness, the only touch of order in an otherwise empty space. To the left, a door stands open, and from where I stand I’m able to see a glimpse of the edge of a sink — a bathroom.
But it isn’t the bed or the bathroom that makes my stomach twist. It’s the thing in the middle of the floor.
At first, I want to believe I’m just imagining it.
That this whole day has been a bad dream.
I close my eyes, pinch myself, but nothing changes.
It’s still there — a round piece of metal, a chain coiled like a snake beside it, cuffs gleaming as if they’d been waiting to wrap themselves around someone. My breath stutters, shallow and uneven.
No. No, it can’t be what it looks like. It can't be for me. But there’s no one else here. They can’t be this deranged. Or could they?
The denial screams inside my head, even as the truth digs its claws deeper into me.
My heart pounds so hard that it drowns out everything else.
The air feels too thin, too sharp, and I feel as if I’m suffocating.
My body wants to run, but my legs won't obey.
Fear pins me as surely as the cuffs already have.
This isn’t a room for living. It’s a room for breaking. And I fully believe that’s what they plan to do to me. Fear tears through me as he pushes me farther inside, my feet dragging against the floor like they no longer belong to me.
I hear my voice whispering in the back of my head as I stand there trembling.
He’s planned this. He’s thought of everything. And you… you’ll never get out.
“I’m going to leave you here to think about your behavior. I’ll remove the tape and the cuffs on your hands. When I get back, I expect to see you in one of our shirts and nothing else.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply. He pulls out a knife from his pocket, flicking the blade open.
My eyes go wide in fear. This is it. This is where he kills me.
“I’ve been imagining what you look like underneath all these clothes.” In one swift movement, he takes hold of my shirt and pulls me toward him, using the blade to rip it down the center, exposing me to him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He rips it completely off of me.
He steps back, his eyes roaming my body appraisingly as he runs the pad of his thumb over his lower lip.
“Now take the pants off.”
I shake my head and step backward. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let this man rape me.
“I said take them off.” He barks, and I can’t help but crumple under his dominance.
Again, I shake my head no. But he’s not taking that for an answer.
“Either take them off and get to keep your panties or I’ll be removing them as well.”
My hands trembling, I lower them and undo my jeans, taking my time to slowly slide the zipper down. Before I remove them, I slip off my shoes, then shimmy the pants down, stepping out of them. A small part of me is thankful for the coverage my bra and panties give me.
“See, now was that so hard.”
I close my eyes, holding back the tears. I’m not breaking down in front of him. He’s not worthy of my tears.
“Put on the shirt.”
I force open my eyes and glare at him. How stupid is he? I’ve got the fucking cuffs still on my wrists. Throwing my hands up in the air, I make a big show of the predicament he’s placed me in.
His lips press together into a thin line, his jaw tightening as if the mistake I’ve pointed out to him has left a sour taste in his mouth.
He arches one eyebrow high while the other pulls down, knitting a crease between his brows.
He draws in a slow breath through his nose, but it comes out in a sharp huff, betraying the flicker of anger simmering beneath his annoyance of someone showing him his error.
If I could flash him a gloating smile, I would.
He moves forward, and my body freezes, unsure of his intention after pissing him off.
But he doesn’t hit me. Elliott moves over to the metal fixture like this is a normal everyday routine.
He bends down and securely places the cuffs around my ankles, the last fragile illusion of my escape shattering — there isn’t going to be any running away from this.
He does just as he promised. He rips the tape from my mouth, the sting tearing at my skin. Every nerve wants to scream, but I clamp my teeth together until my jaw aches, refusing to give him the satisfaction. My hands jerk as he frees them, but I keep my glare fixed on his face.
“I hate you,” I cry out.
He doesn’t say a word; instead, he bends down and picks up all my clothing, including my shoes and heads to the door. Stopping only when his hand is on the handle, and he turns back to me.
“Good. It’ll make the fight even more appealing. And Guinea Pig, this is your cage whether you like it or not. The only thing missing is the wheel. But don’t worry, I can bring one in if you like. It’s a delightful little toy.”
He steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him.The echoing click of the lock tells me I’m caged for sure.
I can’t run, can’t hide, can’t do much of anything.
But there is one thing I can do. So that’s what I focus my energy into.
I scream. Loud and long. But no one comes running. There's no rescue. No one cares.
I take hold of my chain, yanking on it with all my might. Nothing happens. I stumble backward and fall on my ass with a hard thud.
“Fuuucckkk! Stupid controlling alpha assholes.”
I look around the room, looking for anything that might help me, but nothing is visible.
The ache to cut hits me hard. The desire of having relief from this pain, even if it is only momentarily. Getting on my knees, I stand up from the floor and move slowly toward the bathroom. Hopefully, there is something in there.
Towels, washcloths, bodywash, and hair products are carefully placed on the rack over the toilet. I squat down and open the door under the sink. Nothing but toilet paper and cleaning products. A deadly thought enters my mind. A way to end it all if my escape truly is inevitable.
“No,” I mutter softly. Standing up, I open the medicine cabinet. Nothing. I slam the door shut, placing my hands on the porcelain countertop and drop my head.
I need to think. Maybe, just maybe if I ask for a razor under the pretense of needing it to shave my legs or my armpits, they’ll give me one. Surely, they don’t want a hairy omega.
The need to be sure there isn’t a razor already here, takes over, and I check again. Nothing.
Turning, my shoulders slump as my soul drops, matching my sunken face.
My gaze scans the room as I wrap my arms around myself, accepting my fate.
This is not my home.
This is my prison. And there’s no way I’m getting out alive.