Chapter 33

T hey keep me in a human-sized cage in an abandoned warehouse, a large, open space, with nothing except this cage and two bored bearded men seated on upturned crates. The sickly scents of mold, damp leaves, and cannabis prick my nose. They’re men of few words except when I rattle and kick the rusty bars, which makes them holler and sneer. One of them even cups his junk and makes a lewd gesture with his fingers and tongue despite Dalton giving him strict instructions not to touch me.

Once a day, they drag me out of the cage to relieve myself in a bucket in the corner. It’s humiliating and demoralizing, but they enjoy that, judging by the twisted gleam in their eyes as they watch me pull my pants down and crouch over the bucket, careful to hide my modesty.

Then I’m hauled back and tossed inside the cage. If I’m lucky, they slam the cage door shut and return to their crates, but there have been times when they followed me inside and cornered me against the bars.

Reminding them of what the Bishop will do if they touch me always works. They soon back off, spitting in my direction as they leave the cage.

I’d lie if I said it didn’t rattle me. It does. I’m always left trembling as I settle back in the corner, where I can keep an eye on them while they smoke their weed and watch me like I’m a snack they want to sink their teeth into.

Something has to change soon. Someone has to come for me. How long will they keep me locked up like this? This is twice now I’ve been kidnapped, but I doubt it’ll work in my favor if I try to seduce the guards this time.

A shiver runs through me when I think about it.

What does Dalton want? Money? Is he holding me hostage while he blackmails Darian? Surely not.

I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been locked up, when cars pull up outside, their engines rumbling.

“If it isn’t my favorite cousin,” Dalton says, a gust of fresh, damp air blowing in behind him as he enters the warehouse. Two hulky, bald men in black pants and shirts flank him, and I wonder briefly if they go everywhere with him or if he’s taking extra precautions lately.

Some part of me wants to believe it’s the latter, that maybe Dalton and my uncle fear my husband’s retaliation, but a different part of me knows the Bishop’s son can’t go anywhere without bodyguards. He was born with a target on his back.

“I hope you find the cage comfortable. I had it installed just for you.”

Dressed in pressed pants, a pristine white shirt, and a black trench coat, with a fine mist of rain on his shoulders, Dalton looks like he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.

As he crosses the room, he takes off his leather gloves and slips them into his pocket. “I’m sorry it has taken me this long to see you. I’ve had some urgent matters to deal with.”

He stops in front of the cage and studies me disapprovingly from head to toe. “So this is what all the fuss is about?”

Silence fills the warehouse. One of the men lights a cigarette, watching me through the curling smoke.

“Cecilia,” Dalton says, notes of impatience bleeding into his tone. “Look at me.”

I reluctantly swing my gaze to him, and he steps closer. “This is who was promised to me?” He turns over his shoulder. “Did any of you touch her?”

Their heads snap to attention, and they hold their hands up. “No, sir.”

Seconds pass as he narrows his eyes on my tormentors, and then he orders them to remove the bucket in the corner of the room because it reeks. They scurry into action, crashing into each other and almost falling on their asses in their rush to please the Bishop’s son.

Dalton’s attention returns to me, his cold eyes falling down my body and leaving a slimy chill behind. He juts his chin, silently commanding the others to open the cage. One of the men appears like a genie, fumbling with a set of rustling keys, while the other Pawn carries the stinking piss bucket outside.

“What are you? A fucking imbecile?” Dalton barks, unimpressed, as the man drops the keys.

The moment he picks them up, Dalton snatches them out of the man’s hands and unlocks the creaky door.

It’s the most ominous sound I’ve heard. I can’t threaten my cousin with his father. My uncle probably condones this.

As he enters the cage, my eyes widen in alarm, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s blocking the only exit. The cage was small before he entered, but now I feel truly cornered and helpless.

I dart my gaze behind him as he drinks me in, but before I can see what the others are bringing in from the car, he walks closer and traps me with his hands on the bars on either side of me.

“You really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

The scent of fresh rain and the outdoors clings to his trench coat, and rain droplets dampen his windswept blond hair. He studies me closely, intrigued, as he roams his eyes over my face. “I don’t see it,” he says. “The family resemblance, I mean.”

Letting go of the bars, he fingers a strand of my hair. “Maybe it’s the blonde?”

My throat jumps on a swallow as he lets go of the lock to trace the backs of his knuckles down the column of my throat.

His thin lips quirk menacingly. “You’re scared of me.”

“You sound happy about that.” It’s a challenge to keep my voice steady, and my skin crawls when he hums, sliding his fingertips over my collarbones.

“I like it when women fear me.”

“I bet,” I grit out.

I sound braver than I am, and he can see right through me, judging by the knowing glint in his eyes. His touch travels lower, his thumb trailing over my sensitive nipple through my clothing, and then he cups my left breast, observing my reaction closely. I try so hard to remain strong, but my chin trembles as tears gather on my lashes.

“Darian stole something of mine,” he says in a low, chill-inducing tone. “Something of great importance.”

Overhead, rain patters on the steel roof as the clinking of chains rustles in the background. Dalton continues massaging my breasts, his eyes darkening further when my tears spill over.

“Your virginity was promised to me,” he drawls as he trails his fingers lower, and I suck in my stomach. “I don’t like thieves.”

“Darian didn’t take my virginity,” I reply boldly. “I gave that away as soon as I found out about the contract between our parents.”

Seconds pass, and then Dalton’s hand flies out, quick as a flash, and he grabs my jaw, ramming the back of my head against the bars. “You’re a little whore, aren’t you?”

“No,” I sneer, baring my teeth, “I just knew I would rather die than offer you my virginity.”

For a moment, I think he might punch me, and I prepare for the impact, but then he steps back and smiles coldly. “You won’t be so brave soon, cousin.”

As he exits the cage, he orders his lackeys to fetch me.

One of them approaches with a smirk, ducking his bald head as he enters the small space. I panic and kick at him, but he overpowers me with his height and strength.

“You little slut!” He backhands me hard and then grabs my hair, pulling me out despite my struggles. Once I’m out, he drags me to a wooden cross on the floor and shoves me down. Fear washes over me as I squirm and scream, but he keeps me pinned on the cross.

The other man clamps his dirty boot down on my wrist, a hammer dangling from his hands, and then his cracked lips peel back into a sickening smile to showcase his sharp canines as he wiggles the large nail in the air for me to see.

“Wait,” Dalton speaks up, and relief floods through me with such force that I can barely suppress a sob.

“Strip her naked first.”

“What? No!” I flail, mortified, as the two men rip at my clothes, copping a feel with their greedy hands. Dalton smirks with his head tilted sideways and his hands in his pockets.

This is all a game to him.

When I’m naked, and my clothes are in tatters on the floor, he kicks my panties out of the way and widens his stance. “Your mother did this to you when she took you and ran. She knew there was no way out of the Exodus. She knew and still took her sweet little daughter and ran away.”

One of the Pawns appears with ropes, then ties my wrists and ankles to the cross while I wriggle and pant desperately.

“And then there’s the question of your husband, of course.” Dalton sounds conversational.

The fourth man puts a tripod down and directs a camera at me.

Dalton slides his hand from his pocket and rubs his mouth, deep in thought. “Did he really think he could keep you hidden from us? It was a reckless move to steal you from beneath our noses and parade you around like some prized horse.” He wiggles his finger in my direction. “Admittedly, the eye masks at the fundraisers helped hide your identity, but it was never going to last. My father had been looking for you for a very long time. Can you blame him? A devoted uncle, searching for his niece.”

I spit in his direction, and one of the guards smacks my face with such force that my face whips to the side.

Dalton’s smirk grows, and he gestures to the camera. “I hope you don’t mind being the star in our home movie.”

I lift my head, my cheek throbbing. The camera is aimed right at me, capturing every moment of this nightmare.

“We have to send a message to traitors. This is what happens if you betray the Exodus or try to work against us in any way. We won’t tolerate uprisings.” He crouches at my feet and lets his hungry gaze feast on my naked breasts and pussy. “It’s also a message for your husband. How long do you think it’ll take him before he comes to your rescue?” His hand slides over my foot. “He’ll be filled with so much rage. So much fury. I can almost taste it.”

Dalton stands and stares down at me. “When he comes, my men will be ready for him.” He juts his chin to the men, and my body breaks out in a vicious cold sweat. I scream and thrash, fighting with everything I’ve got, but it’s useless against four large men.

A large nail digs into my palm, and I scream in agony when he slams it down with a hammer. All I know from that moment onwards is excruciating, blinding pain.

Pain so agonizing, I soon drift in and out of consciousness.