12. Ashby

Chapter 12

Ashby

M y entire body hurts. My skin feels too tight, my bones brittle, and my muscles like I've overstretched every single one. My brain feels like it's pounding against my skull, trying to escape. There is a steady ringing in my ears, muffling all sound, and my vision is like looking through a fog. I try to pull on the wire holding my wrists together, but fire burns through my arm with even the slightest movement. I can move my ankles easier, but without the use of my hands, there is no way to loosen the stranglehold wrapped around me.

I'm not sure how long we drive before the car finally comes to a stop, but the loss of motion is both a blessing and a curse. I'm happy to have a moment of peace, but I know if we are stopped, that means more pain will be coming soon. Tears burn tracks down my soot-covered cheeks, both from pain and fear. I hear the sound of doors opening and closing and voices shouting, and then my vision flares as bright light blinds me.

I can't contain my scream as agony rips apart my body, and I am dragged from the back of the car. Bile churns in my stomach, and I don't resist the urge to puke all over the person carrying me.

"What the fuck!" the man shouts, and black spots dance in front of my eyes when I'm dropped to the cement. The pain becomes too much, and everything goes dark.

"Ash," a quiet voice calls as gentle, icy hands ghost over my skin. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," they chant, panic and terror making their voice tremble. "I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not grateful you came for me, but why are you here alone?" Sobs wrack the person speaking, and I feel a wet cloth move over my skin. "God, if I had a shirt, I would be able to wrap this arm for you. For now, this will just have to be good enough. It's not very clean, and I'm sure you don't want to be naked, but I think wrapping your arm is more important." I feel my shirt tearing, and a cold breeze brushes my bare skin. "I know it's cold. Fuck, I'm sorry, but this is going to suck." I grunt and nearly choke when a wad of fabric is shoved into my mouth. "Don't want you biting off your tongue."

That's the only warning I get before my arm is moved and intense pressure flairs. I scream, the sound muffled, and my back arches off the ground. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Almost done."

The pressure lets up just slightly, and then I feel something soft being wrapped tightly around my skin. My arm is moved again, and I feel more cloth surrounding it and around my neck. It cradles the injured limb against my chest tightly.

"This isn't a true fix. The fabric is dirty and thin, so it won't give the support you need, but it will have to do for now." Fingers brush through my hair as my head settles onto the person's lap. "I really hope your stepdad finds us soon," he says absently. "I don't think I can take it if those men visit me again." His entire body shudders, and I feel wet warmth drip on my face.

"A… Atlas?" I rasp after a few minutes of silence, my mind clearing just enough to focus on the pretty face hovering over mine. His skin is marred with bruises, cuts and dried blood. "Atlas, thank god." I gasp, tears flowing freely as I try to reach for him.

"No! Try not to move!" he whisper-shouts, moving my head off his lap and kneeling beside me. He reaches for my free hand and threads our fingers together, his hazel eyes clouded.

I turn my head enough to take him in, and fury joins the pain. He's completely naked, and every inch of his body is covered in dirt, bruising and blood. Handprint-shaped bruising marks his hips, thighs, arms and neck. Cuts and what look like burns also dot his skin. Metal shackles encircle his ankles, the skin raw and bleeding. The chain connecting them is anchored to the middle of the floor, just long enough for him to move around but not enough to reach the door. His wrists are equally raw, and I notice a pair of matching shackles hanging from the wall across the room.

"Fuck, Atti. What did they do to you?" I whisper. He turns his face away, refusing to meet my eyes as his body trembles.

"I don't… I don't want to talk about that," he says, voice barely audible. "Don't make me talk about it." He squeezes my hand tighter, the bones protesting under his grip, but I keep my mouth shut.

The squeal of metal hinges draws both our attention, and I watch all the blood drain from Atlas's cheeks, his eyes filling with fear. His body trembles, and he scrambles to the back corner of the room, curling into a tight ball as if trying to become as small as possible and blend into the shadows. I sit up and scoot as much as I can, trying to block his body with my own. I feel his small frame shaking wildly and square my shoulders.

"Hello, son," my dad says, a twisted smile pulling at his lips. His blond hair is curly like mine, but where I let mine hang longer, he keeps his cut short on the sides. I have Mom's build. Both of us are thin and short, but I have Dad's eyes and hair. "Imagine my surprise when I learned my bitch wife and son weren't as dead as they were supposed to be. I knew I needed to get you back and make your mother suffer. But when I realized who she married, I knew I couldn't do it alone. That's where they come in." He gestures to a tall man standing beside him, his dark eyes glued to the spot over my shoulder, and I shift, blocking Atlas from his heated gaze. The man turns his eyes on me, sneering.

"I promised to help them take down Vince if they helped me get you back," Dad says smugly.

"Now that your father has you, our business together is done," the man, who I assume is Drexel Hawthorn, says. "But as a thank you for our help, I was promised two things." My blood runs cold as he steps closer, his tongue flicking out to lick over his bottom lip. Atlas whimpers behind me, and I feel warm liquid wet my pants, the smell of urine filling the air. "First, I will get a share of the money he gets after he takes down Vince's empire once and for all. And I get that pretty little thing behind you. So, move aside and let me have what's mine."

"No," I snap, scooting back to pin Atlas between my body and the wall, covering as much of him as possible. "You will never touch him again."

Drexel cackles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "And who is going to stop me?"

"You will have to kill me if you want to take him," I say, even as sweat dots my upper lip and my arm throbs. I know I won't be able to do much, but with the way Atlas is cowering behind me, I know I have to do whatever it takes to keep this man away.

Drexel scoffs and lunges forward. His hand grips my hair, and he drags me away. I cry out, my legs flailing as I try and kick out at him, but he dodges the moves easily, laughing the entire time.

"You are weak and pathetic. You think you could keep me from what's mine?" Drexel snarls, lifting me from the ground by my hair and pinning me to the wall. He grabs for one of the metal shackles hanging there, and I feel the cold metal lock around my good wrist. I scream as he pulls my broken arm from the makeshift sling and locks it in the shackles as well. "Maybe I should let my men in here to have a go at you too. Give you a little taste of what's in store for your pretty little friend," Drexel growls against my ear, and I shudder, his hot, stinky breath brushing over my skin.

"Now, Drexel," my father calls from his place, leaning against the door frame, never once moving to intervene. "You know that Ashby is mine. Plus, he has the information you need to take down Vince's whole operation, so you might not want to hurt him before we get it."

Drexel turns to scowl at my dad, his grubby hand moving down my bare chest and toward the waistband of my pants. He flicks the button open, his fingers delving beneath the fabric, and I jerk, fighting to get away from his touch.

"I won't hurt him." Drexel sneers. "At least not too bad. I just want a taste." He turns back to me and licks a stripe from my shoulder, up my neck, and across my face. He nips at my lips and I squeeze them together tightly. "That's right, fight me. I love it when they resist. It makes the reward so much sweeter."

He moves a hand to my face, pinching my nose closed. My vision spots, and my head swims. I fight to keep my mouth closed, but soon enough, it bursts open, fighting to suck in air. Drexel strikes, his hand moving to my chin, holding my mouth open as he forces his tongue inside. His other hand pushes into my pants, and I gag when his fingers wrap around my soft dick.

"Fuck you taste good." He groans, and I jerk my body, struggling as hard as I can to get away from his touch, but the shackles pin me in place. My broken arm has gone beyond pain and just feels completely numb. He moves his hips, using them to pin me to the wall as he pulls his cock out, allowing it to brush against my stomach. I hear fabric tear and feel air blow over my skin as my pants and boxers fall in a puddle at my feet. With his hips still pinning mine, he grinds his dick into me, his free hand moving to pull my thigh up.

He kisses me again, forcing his tongue so deep I gag. I scream when I feel his dick brush over my entrance and tug my head with enough force to finally dislodge his hold on my chin. Before he can grab me again, I bite down with as much force as I can. Blood fills my mouth, and Drexel's shrill cries bounce off the concrete walls around us. He stumbles back, releasing his hold on me as he covers his mouth, eyes wide.

"You bit me!" he shrieks, his words slurred as blood pours from his mouth. I spit at him, a small chunk of his tongue hitting him in the chest. He roars so loud I swear the ground rumbles as he charges me.

A heavy arm encircles his throat before he reaches me. "I told you no," my dad growls into his ear. "I told you he was mine, and you weren't to touch him. You got what you deserved." I lash out, my foot connecting with Drexel's now soft cock and balls. He howls, hands moving to cup himself, and Dad laughs. "That's what you get when you don't listen. Now, get out of here and gather your men. You can come back for your toy when I'm done here." Dad drops Drexel, and he falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. When he doesn't get up and leave like my dad commanded, Dad kicks him in the ribs with enough force he slides across the ground. "Get. Out," Dad snarls, stalking toward Drexel.

Drexel struggles to his feet, his body shaking as he turns to my dad, fury burning hotly in his dark eyes. "You will pay for this," he promises, and I shiver at the threat, forcing myself to meet his gaze when he turns it on me. "I'll be back for you, pretty. Don't you worry," he says to Atlas before turning and disappearing down the hallway.

"Well, now that that's over with," Dad says casually, grabbing a wooden chair from the hallway. He drags it into the room and settles himself atop it, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knee.

"What the fuck is your problem!" I shout, rage making me forget to hold my tongue. "Were you just going to stand there and watch him rape me?"

"I told you plenty of times growing up that you needed to learn to fight your own battles. You needed toughening up. I wanted to see if you were still the weak, pathetic child I once knew." He sighs and shakes his head, a small smile twitching his lips. "I see that my lessons taught you something. You did very well defending yourself. Though you took your sweet time doing it. For a moment, I thought you were going to let him have you." My body vibrates with anger and disgust. "Oh, please! Don't look at me like that. You let him get your wrist pinned. You let him get your pants off. You let him touch you. You were about to let him have you. What was I supposed to think?"

"You should have stepped in!" I snarl. "You're my dad, and you're supposed to protect me!"

"I can't fight your battles for you, Ashby. You need to grow up at some point." He huffs, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I did stop him once you showed you had a spine and could fight."

"Silly me, forgetting what a horrible person you are. You were never a good dad. I don't know what I was thinking, expecting you to step in and help me," I spit at him. "What the fuck do you want? Why couldn't you just leave me and Mom alone to live our lives?"

"Your mother is dead to me. She ran like a coward and tried to hide you from me. She tried to ruin me," he snaps, his face twisting in a snarl as his cheeks flush. "Do you know what she did to me? She sent files full of incriminating evidence to my boss. They branded me a dirty cop. They wouldn't listen when I told them I was being framed. My friends turned against me. I was fired from my job and ostracized from the community. I lost the house, my car, and all my money was spent on lawyers trying to fight this. I had nothing left!"

I can't help the laugh that slips free, and once it starts, I can't stop it. I laugh so hard tears trail down my cheeks and my sides ache.

"You think that's funny?" Dad asks in a familiar, cold voice. On the outside, he appears calm and collected, but his eyes burn with fury, showing the evil contained inside him. My laughter cuts off in an instant, and fear floods my veins. Nothing good comes when he uses that voice. "You think it's funny your mother ruined me? Took everything from me?"

"I… I think," I say, clearing my throat and forcing myself to continue, "I think it's funny you thought you could convince people you were framed. You ARE a dirty cop. You ARE a horrible person. You deserved to lose your job. You deserved to lose everything. You're still alive, so I don't think you got everything you deserved!"

Instead of responding, Dad just smirks at me. My heart stutters in my chest, my blood freezing in my veins.

"You know," he says calmly, picking a nonexistent piece of fuzz from his dress pants. "I brought you here so you could help me take down your mother and her new husband. I want them to suffer the way I have. I've been watching you for months, and I know you can access all of his money. I know you work closely with each of his businesses, and you would be the weakest link, the easiest to break. I just wanted you to help me get his money. I wouldn't have hurt you unless you forced my hand. But now," he stops, staring deep into my eyes, and I start to shake, "I think I will give you to Drexel and his men when I'm through with you. Do you know what they do with boys like you? What they did to your friend?" he asks. Atlas whimpers softly, and my stomach clenches so hard I would puke if I had anything left inside me. "They sell you. Over and over, they sell you to the highest bidder and let them do whatever they want to with you. They will pump you full of drugs and get you so addicted you'll do anything for your next hit. You would be sold and used daily, your body no longer your own."

Movement behind Dad catches my eye, and I look up just in time to see Atlas run at Dad from behind. His eyes are wild as he slams into Dad's back, one arm going around Dad's neck as he scratches at Dad's face with the other. Dad shouts and stands from his chair, stumbling forward with Atlas clinging to his back like a little monkey. Atlas's scream is a broken, wild sound.

"No one will touch me like that again," Atlas screams as he attacks. "Never again! Never again! Never again!"

Blood streams down Dad's face as Atlas claws at his eyes, and Dad stumbles forward again. I kick out, my foot connecting with his nose. The bone crunches beneath my shoe and blood gushes from both nostrils. Unfortunately, the kick dislodges Atlas, who falls to the ground, but instead of running, he picks up the wooden chair and slams it into Dad's back, pushing him close enough that I can get my legs wrapped around his neck. I squeeze tightly, and Dad wheezes, clawing at my legs as he struggles to get free.

A shadow falls over Dad, and I look to Atlas. His face is dull, eyes dead as he stares into Dad's eyes. A jagged, broken piece of the wooden chair is in his hand, and he kneels between Dad's spread legs.

"I won't let you," Atlas rasps, voice broken. "I won't let you hurt him the way they hurt me."

He brings his arm down, the wood tearing through skin and muscle. Dad's scream gurgles as I continue to squeeze his neck, and Atlas pulls the wood free. Something feral appears in his eyes, and he brings the wood down again and again, stabbing. A scream rips from Atlas as he tears into my dad. After about five stabs, the wood breaks off in Dad's flesh, and Atlas lets out an angry growl. He reaches behind him, picks up another piece of the chair, and continues stabbing. Each time the wood breaks, he grabs a new one until, after nearly thirty stabs and four chair pieces, his arm falls to his side, and he settles back on his heels, taking in his work. Wooden shards protrude from Dad's legs and belly, his eyes clouded and staring unseeing at the ceiling.

"I did it," he whispers and looks up at me, blood spray coating his face, chest and hands. He still has a piece of bloodied wood held in a white-knuckle grip. "I did it."

"You did, Atti. You did so fucking good. You saved me." Some of the feral energy flows out of him, his eyes dimming as he looks down at his bloody hands and the stake held there.

"I did it," he whispers again.

"You did, Atti. You did it. But we need to get out of here now before any of the others come looking into all that noise," I tell him, and he looks back up at me, blinking slowly.

I unwrap my legs from Dad's neck and push his body to the side with my foot. As the adrenaline fades, agony floods my veins. My arm aches so badly that it's nearly numb, my brain pulses with every heartbeat, and my skin is drenched in sweat. "Check his pockets for the keys. Get yourself unlocked, then you can do mine." My voice grows slurred.

He nods numbly, his lips moving as he repeats the same words over and over. "I did it."

He releases a soft, satisfied sound when he finds the keys, his wet fingers slipping as he tries to undo his chains. Finally, the metal falls to the ground with a loud clatter, and Atlas struggles to his feet, legs shaky. He has to stretch onto his tiptoes to reach my shackles, and I can only imagine what it must have been like for him to be secured here, barely able to reach the ground and support his weight.

My arm falls to my side, and I scream through my teeth. Atlas, without a word, grabs the blood-soaked fabric from the ground and recreates a sling for my arm, pinning it tightly to my chest once more. He pulls my free arm around his shoulders and puts his arm around my middle, both of us leaning on the other for support.

"Thank you, Atti," I rasp, and he nods. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here."

I peek out the door and check the hallway to make sure it's clear before we step out. We keep close to the wall, moving slowly and silently when, suddenly, the entire building shakes. Crashing and the sound of metal bending fill the air around us. There is an eerie silence for only a moment before gunfire starts, and screaming joins the noise.

"We need to hurry! Maybe we can slip out while they are distracted!" I tell Atlas, tugging him forward, hoping the sounds are thanks to my perfect boyfriend coming to rescue me.

Chaos greets us when we reach the end of the hallway and look down into the open floor of the warehouse. There is a massive hole in the side of the building, with a bullet-ridden SUV idling just inside. Bodies litter the ground, and I scan each one for a familiar face, releasing a heavy sigh when none are.

Glee-filled shouts and laughter sound from behind the SUV, and I nearly swoon when Storm steps out, a gun in each hand and a smile on his face as he releases a spray of bullets. The men start to scream, scurrying around wildly like rats.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Storm sings, and I smile. The men below start to panic, all rushing for the exit at once, their bodies clogging up as they fight to get out first. "There you are!" Storm shouts, and I watch him tuck away one of his guns and pull a grenade, a fucking grenade, from his back pocket and launch it toward the men. Storm doesn't duck or turn away, eyes glued to the men as the bomb goes off. Body parts go flying through the air, blood and guts turning to mist, and Storm giggles manically.

"Sir, I think that was the last of them. Should we split up and search the building for Ashby and his friend?" one of Storm's men asks.

Storm's eyes turn to mine in an instant, as if he knew I was there the whole time. "No need. They are already here." He points to the two of us, and the stairs rattle as men run up them towards us. They reach for both of us, but Storm growls loudly. "Do not pick him up!" he snaps, shoving the man out of the way and draping a blanket over my shoulders. "Hi, Sunshine. Did you miss me?" he asks, lifting me into his arms and snuggling me close. I bury my nose against his chest, eyes rolling as his familiar scent fills my nose.

"Fuck yes. Thank you for coming for us."

Storm runs his fingers over my body, barely brushing my skin. "I thought I told you not to get out of the car," he asks, turning and carrying me back down the stairs. I look over his shoulder, trying to find Atlas and smile when I see him wrapped in a thick blanket, cradled in Elio's arms. The big man scowls at anyone who looks at them for too long.

"I'm sorry," I say and shiver when Storm smiles down at me.

"Oh, you will be. But don't worry, you won't get your punishment until you're all healed up."

I let out a small whine, my cock twitching but staying soft. As the adrenaline starts to drain from my system, the pain is slowly returning, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe.

"It hurts," I whimper, biting down on Storm's neck.

"I know, Sunshine. I'm gonna get you the help you need. You just rest now and let me take care of everything," Storm says, and I let my eyes fall closed, knowing he won't let anything happen to me.