Chapter Three

 

Lara woke, feeling like someone stuffed her mouth with cotton. She had fuzzy memories of what happened to her hours—was it hours ago now? Lara remembered emerging from the salon, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Those inhuman black eyes, lacking any emotion, staring at her. That giant who felt like a brick wall, grip like steel.

She shivered, rubbing at her arms. Why was it so dark?

She reached out with her hands, touching her strange new surroundings. Lara felt a wall, some kind of blanket next to her. Something rattled. She swallowed and with trembling fingers found the chain connected to her ankle.

A scream threatened to claw its way out of her, but she shut her mouth, not wanting that titan to come back.

Oh God. The two words played repeatedly in her head. This couldn’t be happening, not to her. She was no one special, merely a waitress who barely made ends meet. There were thousands of girls in the city just like her. Why did that monster take her?

A light flickered on, and this time, she let out a shrill scream. She was in some kind of basement, except it was so much more than that. Lara saw the large hook first, glinting silver in the dim light, hanging in the middle of the room. The chains at the bottom.

Lara nearly had a heart attack. She breathed hard, digging her nails into the concrete floor. Lara nearly reached for the blanket but angrily shoved it away instead. She forced herself to study the room.

At the end of the wall stood a table, on which were lined knives of varying sizes, to wicked-looking torture implements she didn’t know the names of.

“No,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

Lara still couldn’t believe this was really happening. She’d die here, a slow and unbearable death, and no one would even miss her. Skip certainly wouldn’t. It might even take the cops years to find her body.

Calm down, she told herself. Lara couldn’t let panic get the better of her. She swiped at her eyes hastily. Lara needed to think, to try to find a way out of here. She searched for windows, but found none. She touched the wall behind her. Not concrete like the floor but made of some kind of padded material.

Soundproof, she realized with chilling clarity. Her captor took no chances. Something unnerved her more than seeing that hook and the instruments on the walls. She found the answer a second later. None of them looked rusty or had, she didn’t know, dried blood on them. They looked well-tended and clean.

Whoever took her was no amateur, and that knowledge only made her situation a thousand times worse.

Footsteps thudding on the stairs made her back into the wall. She felt like a trapped animal with nowhere to go. That bastard. Did he turn the lights on first, wanting her to see the basement and scare the living daylights out of her, before making his appearance?

After all, he was the master of this little hellhole. The asshole decided all the rules of the game. He could do anything he wanted to her, and no one would know.

She fisted her hands by her side, not wanting him to get any satisfaction knowing he’d rattled her, but her entire body began to shake. Her captor looked so much bigger than she remembered, especially when he stood looking down at her position on the floor.

Lara grabbed the blanket, and he let out that ragged laugh that sounded like steel scraping on concrete.

“Do you intend to use that piece of cloth as a weapon, Lara?”

“How do you know my name?” she whispered, remembering he’d called her that when he took her.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now.”

She swallowed. Bile rose up in her throat. Fear knotted her insides. She wanted to throw up, but refused to show him any signs of weakness. Maybe this sick bastard did this all the time. Took women the rest of the world wouldn’t miss and expected them to be begging for his mercy right about now.

Lara refused to yield. She wouldn’t break easily. Part of her mind wondered how long her bravado would last.

“Why?” she managed to ask.

“Because you might have information we need.”

Lara didn’t miss his usage of the word “we”. She forced herself to think, to not be intimidated by him and the contents of this scary room.

“Who’s we?” He didn’t answer her. She continued, “Lisa and Dan were terrified of you, enough that Lisa didn’t let Dan call the cops.”

“This city belongs to us. Anyone who thinks they have the balls to defy us, dies.”

He said the words simply, matter-of-fact. Disturbing. Us. So, it wasn’t just him she was up against. The prospect of escape seemed to be only getting further and further away. Despair welled up inside of her, but she refused to give in to it. Once she gave up, it would be game over.

He hadn’t hurt her, didn’t threaten her. Yet. If Lara read all the signs right, he seemed to be attracted to her. God help her, if that were true, she could use that to her advantage.

She took a chance. “Show me your face. I want to know the bastard who’s about to chop me to tiny little pieces.”

“You’ll scream, like you did before.”

Was it her imagination, or did he sound a little sad? Why the hell would that matter? She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her breasts, well aware the movement seemed to capture his pitch-black gaze.

“Well, when you kidnap someone that’s bound to happen, right? What do you expect me to do? Fall into your arms gratefully?” Those lips curved into a smile.

“You might as well see the monster who’s about to claim and ruin you in every single way imaginable,” he said.

His words shook her. How could he sound so confident, so certain of his conquest? Goosebumps appeared across her arms. She rubbed at them, steadying herself at what horror he planned on showing her.

The captor lowered his hood. Lara gasped, unable to help herself. Under the dim light, the horizontal scars across the left side of his face looked harsh, ragged. The other half on the other hand, was clear save for one scar that bisected cheekbone to jaw, a hint of beauty before the ruin. It really wasn’t so bad.

Stop it, Lara, she chided herself. If she started feeling even some semblance of pity for her captor, this would lead to nowhere good. She’d watched a couple of crime documentaries online. She certainly didn’t want to end up like one of those poor brainwashed former captives with Stockholm Syndrome.

He laughed, and the sound startled her. Lara realized she was staring. He didn’t get mad though, didn’t so much as a lift a hand towards her. For some reason, that only elevated her fear. Intelligence and cunning stared back at her from those black eyes.

“Most people would flinch, seeing what I look like underneath the hood. Then again, the poor fuckers who find themselves in my special little lair, start panicking and screaming by now.”

“You expect me to do the same?”

“No, I knew you’d be different. Brave. Fiery, like how you fought me tooth and nail in that alleyway. That makes everything so much sweeter.”

She clutched at the blanket, wondering just what kind of monster she was dealing with. Lara couldn’t speak or formulate a sassy reply. She’d spent her entire life struggling. To pay the bills, her rent, her mother’s hospital bills. An endless rat race.

Lara thought she was tough. Sure, she let herself become weak when it came to Skip. Lara really thought he loved her, that she couldn’t do any better for herself. Just when she finally got free of that rat bastard, she ended up here.

Nothing in the world had prepared her for this kind of situation.

“What’s your name?” she finally had the courage to ask.

“Matthias Severin.”

Only then did Lara truly understand the meaning of his earlier words. Hopelessness filled her heart. She slumped against the wall, finally tasting defeat for the first time.

This city belongs to us.