10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

-Jared-

I found myself seated upon the ominous torture table, a witness to the harrowing sight laid out before my eyes. Noah, his body adorned with numerous lacerations, bled profusely, his head drooping forward in a state of despair. The large toy protruded from his ass, causing significant bleeding and pain. While I had yet to inflict harm upon the delicate anatomy between his legs, my interest waned swiftly as he succumbed to unconsciousness.

My own appearance mirrored the chaos around me. My attire likely beyond salvage, tainted by the night's events. The lingering effects of alcohol dulled my senses, though I remained aware of my surroundings.

Noah bore the physical consequences of my malevolent touch—a nipple vanished, the other clamped, his eye swollen to grotesque proportions, and a few of his teeth scattered upon the unforgiving ground. Yet, amid his suffering, I found little solace.

Perhaps I targeted the wrong brother? No, Noah assured me they were both lower-ranking figures in the serious affairs. Finn, that insufferable fucker, managed to elude my grasp, and I knew the news of his brothers' demise would stoke the fires of vengeance within him. I hoped his thirst for retribution would cloud his judgment, leading him to expose himself. I yearned for the opportunity to confront him, to exact justice for his assault on Alison. He had much to answer for.

Despite acknowledging the tasks that lay ahead, I refused to conclude the night empty-handed. It left a bitter taste in my mouth to return to the house, knowing Alison remained beyond my reach.

"Where are you, damn it?" I muttered, taking another swig from the flask before hearing a groan.

Turning my head, I observed Noah stirring, his good eye surveying the surroundings before settling on me. He twitched slightly, his chains rattling, yet he lacked the strength to voice his terror. Instead, he dissolved into pitiful sobs.

"Finish it," he pleaded.

I sighed, the sight more irksome than gratifying. Why did I find no satisfaction in witnessing his anguish? Perhaps because Noah never directly harmed Alison, yet he remained complicit in the suffering of the women here. Despite my desire to aid them, they paled in comparison to Alison. She was the one I wanted.

"Perhaps I should, shouldn't I?" I mused, extending my hand before allowing the bottle to shatter at my feet, its remnants staining the ground with alcohol. Noah's gaze fell to the floor, perplexed, as I descended from the table, retrieving my jacket before addressing him.

"In the next life, remember not to cross me," I admonished, pivoting toward the door.

"Wait! Wait!" he pleaded, halting my departure. "Y-You're leaving me here?"

I reached into my pocket, retrieving the lighter I had confiscated from his belongings. "Let's hope the smoke claims you before the flames."

Noah's eye widened with sheer terror as I walked away, his desperate cries for mercy trailing behind me. His futile pleas provided a twisted satisfaction, prompting me to leave the door ajar, allowing his anguished wails to echo through the space.

Stepping into the hallway leading to the exit, I surveyed the place—a row of game tables, secluded booths, a sprawling bar, dead bodies, and dancing poles.

Retrieving Noah's cigarettes from my pocket, I lit one, discarding the rest. Inhaling deeply, I savored the nicotine rush, exhaling before casting the lighter aside. The damp floor ignited instantly, flames beginning to spread as I turned away, relishing the sensation of victory as I departed.

The journey back blurred in my mind. Though tonight hadn't unfolded precisely as planned, two adversaries had been eliminated. Now, the challenge lay in neutralizing the third cousin. Aware of his training for the desired top position, I recognized the challenging task ahead.

I parked in front of the serene house, exhaling deeply before flicking my cigarette out of the open window, indifferent to any potential mess it might make. Once this ordeal concluded, I fantasized about escaping to a secluded sanctuary with Alison. Perhaps a remote cabin nestled high in the mountains, where it would be just her and me, cocooned in solitude.

Yet, Alison might prefer a warmer country, though I couldn't help but entertain the notion that in a chilly setting, I could ensure her warmth with ease. The thought brought a fleeting smile to my lips before I switched off the car engine and finally got out.

Grasping my jacket, I made my way to the front door, already envisioning a long, soothing shower to wash away the grim traces of the night. However, upon opening the door, the unexpected sound of soft classical music greeted me, perplexing my senses.

"Astrid?" I called out, moments before the distinct clicking of heels reached my ears.

Astrid materialized, drink in hand, elegantly dressed as if she were on her way to an upscale party. I couldn't fathom why she appeared so poised, given the circumstances.

"Looks like someone had a bit of fun," she teased, taking a sip from her glass.

I eyed the drink skeptically, and she responded to my unspoken query. "Oh, please, it's non-alcoholic. Surprised you care," she quipped.

Indeed, her statement caught me off guard, but I couldn't deny my reaction.

"Besides, I don't think alcohol is the immediate concern for the child right now. Did you bathe in their blood?" she inquired casually.

"Something along those lines," I admitted quietly, running a hand through my disheveled hair.

"Well, you might want to clean up," she suggested.

"Why?"

"I have a surprise for you," she teased, her expression hinting at mischief.

"Astrid, it's been a long night. I just want to rest," I protested.

"Jared, trust me, you'll want to shower and come with me," she insisted.

I scrutinized her, trying to decipher her intentions. She turned slightly, subtly showcasing her outfit.

"Looks rather fetching, doesn't it?" she teased.

"Why are you wearing it?" I asked, my tone tinged with curiosity.

"Because in a few months, I won't have the chance to. Might as well enjoy it while I can. Now, come on," Astrid replied, her demeanor oddly cheerful.

"This better be worth it," I muttered.

"It is," she assured me, already walking away with a spring in her step. "Meet me in the dining room."

"Astrid, if this ends up being a waste of my time—"

"It won't be! Just trust me!" she called back, her laughter echoing down the hallway.

"I don't trust you!" I retorted, though her infectious enthusiasm left me feeling strangely curious.

Following her instructions, I made my way upstairs to my room. With a sense of determination, I discarded my blood-stained clothes into the fireplace before making my way to the bathroom. The cleansing water of the shower washed away the physical remnants of the ordeal, leaving me feeling renewed.

Checking myself in the mirror, I ensured I was presentable before tending to the wound on my arm. It was shallower than I had initially thought, and nothing I couldn't handle with a bandage.

Opting for comfort over formality, I dressed in relaxed pants and a soft t-shirt, a stark contrast to Astrid's elegant attire.

As I approached the dining room, the sound of music grew louder, mingling with the anticipation coursing through me. Stepping inside, I found Astrid seated at the table, her smile welcoming.

"Jared, you're finally here!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement as she gestured to the chair in front of her.

"It's well past dinner," I noted.

"True, but I've worked up quite an appetite," she admitted with a chuckle. "Care to join me?"

"How about you tell me what the hell your reason is for summoning me here?" I snapped, my frustration boiling over.

"Jared, please, just sit," Astrid urged, her tone surprisingly calm amidst my outburst.

"Astrid, I'm tired of your mind games," I growled, advancing toward her with the intent to unleash my pent-up frustration. However, as I approached Astrid, a movement caught my eye. Instinctively, I turned my head, my entire body freezing as I passed the chair Astrid had gestured toward. My mind struggled to comprehend the surreal sight before me, causing my heart to quicken its pace.

"Alison?" I uttered in disbelief, the name escaping my lips before I could fully process what I was seeing.

Seated before me was a small figure, barely resembling the woman I once knew. Her eyes remained fixed on a spot on the table, her features appearing gaunt, as though she had shed weight. Dressed in a white dress reminiscent of Astrid's style, her long hair cascaded down her back. Yet, something about her seemed unsettlingly unfamiliar.

"Alison?" I called again, cautiously closing the distance between us. Still, she remained unresponsive, lost in her own world.

I turned to Astrid, who smiled at me.

"H-How?" I stammered, struggling to comprehend the surreal turn of events.

"Do you really want to delve into the intricate process of how I contacted my sources to find out who she was sold to?" Astrid replied, her tone tinged with impatience.

"Sold to?" I echoed, the words hanging heavily in the air.

"You didn't think Vince had any interest in keeping her, did you? Jared, he wasn't just punishing you. He was punishing Alison. She's a valuable pawn in a high-stakes game, having sealed a contract between two powerful men, one of whom harbors his own dark desires," Astrid declared with a somber gravity. "My father orchestrated the transaction, which is why my connections were able to assist."

The weight of Astrid's revelation bore down on me, leaving me reeling with a torrent of emotions too overwhelming to fully grasp. I took a moment to compose myself, my mind racing as I struggled to make sense of it all. Turning toward Alison, who remained eerily still, I couldn't help but wonder where the resilient woman I knew had gone. Where was the Alison who never broke, who never gave in?

"The drugs are out of her system," Astrid reassured me, her words offering a sliver of solace amidst the chaos. "She just doesn't want to engage right now."

"Is that why you've dressed her up like your damn doll?" I snapped, unable to contain my frustration.

Astrid's smile remained unflinching. "I thought it would be entertaining. Besides, she didn't even resist."

I found no amusement in the situation, my gaze fixed upon the shattered semblance of the woman I once knew. Yet, deep down, I had harbored little hope that Alison would emerge from this unscathed.

"Just be thankful she wasn't sold into human trafficking. Only one man had his grip on her," Astrid disclosed.

"Sometimes, one is all it takes," I muttered, memories of the man who had shattered my childhood and body resurfacing.

Astrid sighed in exasperation, setting her utensils down. "Jesus, I lend a hand, and this is the gratitude I receive," she spat.

"If you expect gratitude for your role in her kidnapping, then you are sorely mistaken," I growled at Astrid, who merely shrugged. "I want a doctor to examine her."

"She's already been examined, and I'll provide you with the results once they're available. So, I'd advise against any intimacy for the time being," she retorted.

I rolled my eyes. As if sex were even a consideration now. Alison remained oblivious to my presence, her vacant stare fixed on nothingness. I felt utterly powerless. Though I knew the devastating effects of sexual abuse firsthand, I had never been in a position to aid someone through it. I had survived, albeit barely, but it had nearly driven me to take my own life. I couldn't bear to lose Alison. If she succumbed to despair, I would follow suit. With grim determination, I vowed to resurrect the formidable Alison Brown from the depths of her anguish.

I approached cautiously, lowering myself beside her chair. "Alison?" I called softly, but she remained unresponsive, her gaze fixed ahead.

"Alison?" I whispered, extending my hand tentatively to touch her wrist.

Her body jerked as if shocked, and I quickly withdrew. Her eyes blinked rapidly, a flicker of consciousness returning, dispelling the emptiness. Slowly, she turned her head, her blue orbs widening as they focused on me. Tears welled in her eyes, though I couldn't discern if she truly saw me.

"Jared?" she breathed, her voice fragile.

"It's me," I reassured her, kneeling beside her and resting a hand on the back of her chair, hesitant to make physical contact. "I'm right here," I affirmed, reaching for her hand on the table.

I touched her skin with just the tips of my fingers, mindful not to overwhelm her. She turned her head to observe our connection.

"Why do you feel so real?" she questioned.

"Because I am real, Alison. I'm here," I vowed.