Chapter 11

SCARLET

11

Istood in the shower once more, removing their fingerprints and fluids from my skin. I scrubbed myself red raw in an effort to try to remove the shame and disgust I felt. Not just for what they'd done to me.

But for the sick pleasure I'd found myself feeling here and there during it. There had to be something horrendously wrong with me if I'd found some pleasure from it. They'd used me, raped me without my consent, violated me.

Julian had messed with me using that vibrator, and Cristian had known I'd found pleasure in the roughness.

I was broken, a part of me fractured and filled with darkness if I got some perverse delight from them using me. I wanted to hate it fully, to hate them, and yet my body had betrayed me.

"Fuck," I hissed as I let the hot water wash over my back and drip into my face.

My throat hurt to high heaven, aching and tender to touch. I'd glimpsed the ugly bruises in the mirror before finding solace in the shower. And yet, I was still on edge despite locking the door. They'd proved they could get to me, locks be damned.

Nowhere was safe for me in this place.

Would they leave me alone for some time? How long until one of them came for me? Demanded I cater to their desire?

What was I to do about my job and my car? Would they have it towed?

I ground my teeth together at the thought. My diner job wasn't anything amazing, but I did enjoy it for the most part. I worked with good people there, and I'd come to enjoy the work, getting regulars who tipped well.

I hoped Noms would deal with it for me, call them, tell them something had happened to my mom or some shit.

The thought made me frown. My mother would probably laugh in my face if she saw me now, saying I'd gotten what I deserved.

I shoved that wretched thought from my mind as I continued to wash myself in a futile attempt to cleanse my soul of all of this.

One month. How on earth was I supposed to keep myself entertained for that long? They'd taken my phone, so doom-scrolling was out of the question. All my usual stuff—work, watching TV shows, reading, walks, girl nights with Noms—they were gone.

Noms. She'd be so scared for me. She worked for these men, she knew what they were capable of. How much did she know? How ruthless and wicked were they?

Surely she wouldn't try to do something stupid and rescue me. She'd risk not only her life but also Ray's. I prayed that was enough to stop her from doing anything rash. Our lives were one thing, but Ray's, his was not ours to toy with.

My stomach swam as I worried about him. They'd taken him to the hospital, was he okay now? Had he gotten there in time? Would he hate me for getting him into this mess?

I leaned against the cool stone wall, the jets a welcome pressure on my aching body as I swallowed through the tightness of my throat.

How had I wound up in this godforsaken mess?

I closed my eyes, holding my throat as my eyes welled.

Stay strong. You can do this. You've survived this far in life.

I stood at Tyrone's window, wearing the clothes he gave me earlier, twirling my engagement ring. I'd hoped for my lighter, but my dirty clothes from the bathroom had vanished, and I wondered if Julian had moved them in that small time-frame while I'd been alone with Cristian.

The tinting on the windows meant no one down below would see me. Of course the mafia men would have insane tinting. It was likely bullet-proof too, so there was no smashing a window to escape.

Besides, running wasn't an option. I just had to survive this.

I glanced around Tyrone's room, at the almost hospital-grade cleanliness of it all. There was no real sense of another human in this room, save for the bookshelf jammed with what looked like action thriller books. Was the big burly man an avid reader? Or was it all for show? To give their non-consenting guests a false sense of comfort that these men were actually human?

I'd already rummaged through his closet, which was far too neat and on point, not a single suit or shirt out of place, the shoes lined up perfectly. The drawers had held no secrets, and I contemplated busying myself with trying to figure out the combination on the safe in there. Would there perhaps be a weapon in it?

The thought of shooting dead these three men was welcome, but it would get me into a hell of a lot of hot water. Was it water I was willing to swim in?

Outside, a few joggers made their way along the river, and one woman walked her overly rambunctious golden retriever, who was yanking on his lead like he was walking her.

I never should have dated Tom. I should've just gotten a damn dog. I wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for him.

No, I wouldn't be in this mess if I knew how to behave like a normal fucking person. Normal people didn't burn down buildings.

I moved to climb onto the bed, finding it far too soft and comfortable. I wanted to take painkillers for my throat, but there was no way in hell I was going to go out to the kitchen and rummage through the pantry. If I could avoid the brothers, I would. I'd just move between here and the bathroom, drink water, and maybe sneak out for food if no one was home.

What a grand way to live, walking on eggshells.

Survive. I could do this. I just hoped Cristian didn't leave me with any fresh scars by the time I was free.

I closed my eyes as I sprawled on Tyrone's bed, far too aware of every creak and sound outside the room. My body ached, and I ran my tongue over the scab on my lip. It had started to bleed a little while Julian had face-fucked me, splitting back open with a vengeance. I hoped to God it would heal despite their assaults. I wasn't dumb enough to think they wouldn't be doing more of that.

I curled up into a ball, wishing I was on Noms' couch instead, sharing a glass of wine as we watched some silly show, laughing at the stupidity of some people.

What was she up to now? Was I going to be allowed to make my phone call tonight? Or would it be tomorrow? Tyrone hadn't exactly specified that.

Would anyone update me on Ray?

I tossed in the bed, my mind chaotic. I wanted to distract myself, busy my brain, so after a few more minutes of attempting to drift off to pass the time, I clambered from the bed and to the bookcase. I rifled through the books until I found one that sounded remotely interesting, and returned to the bed. Focusing on a book wasn't going to be easy, but there was nothing else to do. No TV in this room, although the desk had held a few office supplies. Maybe I'd scribble or something, I'd liked drawing as I'd grown up, but had neglected it once I started working and being an adult.

It took some time before I was able to slip into the pages, my mind on edge, waiting for the door to fly open and one of the brothers to barge in.

To my surprise, I was left in peace right until I drifted off into a fitful sleep, book still in hand.

I awoke to a knock on the bedroom door, and it took me a moment to orientate myself. Right, prisoner to some sick men.

I let out a heavy sigh, my throat protesting and making me wince and touch it.

Another knock had me rising, and I attempted to call out, my voice coming out as a wheeze instead. Whatever, it'd have to do. I'd rather whoever it was didn't come in, but I was not exactly calling the shots here.

Tyrone walked in, holding a paper bag as his eyes glossed over me.

"You've been keeping my brothers entertained?" he mused, and I scoffed, causing him to arch a brow.

"Well, here's some food. No clue if you have allergies, so I got you a chicken one. There's some soda in there too. We're going to be moving you tonight." His tone was not one to be questioned as he dumped the bag on the desk and glanced out the window.

"Where?" I croaked, and he sighed as he clasped his hands behind his back. Seeing him standing by the window, in that suit that oozed money, his stance screaming power, it made me shudder involuntarily.

"Our main place." He didn't bother to elaborate as he turned towards me, those dark eyes sweeping over me like one would some financial papers. No emotions, no interest, just purely business, like he was determining how much of a hindrance I was going to be. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

"Eat." It was not a request as he turned and headed straight back out, his imposing form disappearing as he shut the door behind him.

I stared after him, a scowl darkening my face.

I was being moved. Great. They always said never let your kidnappers move you to a secondary location.

I slid off the bed and inspected the bag, glancing over the fancy crest on the side of it. It looked expensive, and a peek inside the bag promised as such. The damn takeaway container had gold foiling for Christ's sake.

I pulled out the round container, popping the lid and getting the most delicious whiff of some garlic chicken creamy soup.

Had he been mindful due to my throat? No, I doubted he'd cared that much, but I slumped into the executive desk chair and fished out the silverware. Definitely a fancy place if they included silverware. Either that, or they did it just for him.

I sipped the soup, relaxing at the smoothness of it, not too hot either, and damn, did it taste exquisite. It slid down my throat with ease, and the so-called soda he'd mentioned was some fancy kind of pop that I didn't even recognize.

I popped the top off and sipped it, finding it sweet but not too overpowering. I might've actually thanked Tyrone for the meal if I wasn't his prisoner.

I took my time, enjoying every spoonful as I gazed out the window at the darkening sky, a stark reminder of how much time I was to remain their plaything.

A lot more nights to go.