My entire body ached from the beatings. They hadn't let me out of the small room. I stared at the peeling wallpaper through one eye. The other had swollen shut the day before. They hadn't started taking fingers or limbs yet, but it was all chaos in the outer room. Voices were getting louder and more panicked as I think two days passed. I'd pass out from the pain and awaken only to be reminded of where I was.
Cowen hadn't come for me, and no one had mentioned him since they'd thrown me in this room. I wanted to cry as I realized that I'd been right and he hadn't rescued me. Part of me wanted to say yet—he hadn't come for me…yet. I didn't know what to do or why they were keeping me alive. I wanted to go home. Cowen kept me safe and happy, nothing was conventional between us, but I wanted it—missed it.
I cried out as the door opened and tried to curl in the corner to make myself smaller.
Cristo, Cowen's former boss, stood in the center of the room; the two men I'd started to think of as the man's enforcers—the ones who took the most pleasure in beating me—waited for the man's orders. I'd heard a couple of names, but the only one I remembered was Cristo's.
“Your man has a way with sending messages. Do you know how many men and women Cowen has killed since I've taken you?”
I didn't bother answering because the last time I'd done it, he'd backhanded me.
“As of an hour ago, he's killed fifteen of my men and their whores. I underestimated his attachment to you. I've messaged him several times to arrange a meet and do you know what he's done, Harrison? Nothing.
“I have to admit, he's smarter than the mindless killer I assumed him to be. He doesn't leave the phone on long enough for us to trace him.”
I braced myself as he motioned to one of the men and I had no time to protect myself against the kicks and stomps from steel-toed boots. The pain and impact took my breath away. I was too weak to fight as I was hauled to my feet. My attacker held me against the wall with his hand around my throat.
“Boss, I want to play with him.” Foul breath blew in my face as he spoke and he leaned in to stroke his oily cheek over mine.
I cringed and started to fight—I didn't care if I won. I didn't belong to anyone but Cowen. Whether he still wanted me or not, I wasn't going to let this bastard touch me. I'd take every beating, I'd even die gracefully if I needed to, but I wasn't going to let these nasty men anywhere near me. I brought my knee up and grazed the enforcer's crotch, he grunted and slammed my head against the wall. My vision swam, and pain exploded in my head. The constant headache only grew in severity with each beating.
“Someone thinks they have claws, but no, I won't let him have you. You're going to get me Cowen.”
I stared out the corner of my eye as I watched the man pull out a phone and start dialing. Cristo pressed the phone to his ear.
“Cowen, I received your messages. I am amazed at your skill. But don't I have something you want?” The phone was suddenly beside my face. “Say hi.”
“Cowen? I want to come home—”
“Isn't that sweet, your disposable piece thinks you want him to come home. My boys are having so much fun with him. You have twenty-four hours to make contact. After that, I send him to you a bit at a time.”
The call was disconnected, and I sagged against the wall, tears streamed from under my lashes. When my throat was released, I fell to the bare wood floor. My ribs ached, but the pain in my chest was worse. My time was running out. All I had was one more day before they carried through with their threats. I had to believe that Cowen wanted to keep me. He'd gone through so much trouble, and he'd killed for me. Multiple people. They'd taken something that belonged to him, and he was enacting his revenge.
He was a ruthless man. Killing was how he dealt with his problems. I could take a bit of pain if it was just to stay alive until he showed up.
Cristo crouched in front of me and studied me like I was an oddity in a freakshow of old.
“What did you do to make Cowen turn all soft?”
Him implying Cowen was soft forced a laugh out of me. “There's nothing soft about him. He has no empathy. How many jobs has he pulled for you? How many people has he killed for a paycheck?”
“Hundreds. Do you know he killed his parents? Oh, they can't prove that he'd done so. You wouldn't believe how many people are frightened of him. Assassins with twice as many kills even refused to attempt to take him out. And I tried, they wouldn't even attempt it, and I offered seven-figures for his head.”
“If he's as good as you say, why kill him?”
“Because he's a weapon, and sometimes they make a habit of backfiring one day. He's not one to play by the rules. We were never supposed to meet, but I like to know who I'm dealing with.”
“You know you're just pissing him off. You did say he killed multiple people in the last two days. What do you think he'll do when you kill me?”
“I'm hoping he's so in love with fucking that ass of yours that it won't come to that.”
“He can find another ass to fuck.” I was surprised by how evenly I pushed those words through my lips. I didn't like the thought of him replacing me with someone else. Someone else bringing him pleasure. I sensed I was the first one to cause him to lust, and I wanted to it keep it that way. Sharing him wasn't an option for me. He was mine as much as I was his. If, not, when he came for me, I'd make sure he never had a reason to be without me.
I didn't mind dying, yet I didn't want to live without him.
“No, there's something about you Cowen can't resist. We've occasionally watched him over the years, sent in clients just to get a closer look at him. I was told multiple times that he watched you. Why suddenly he felt the need to claim you confuses me. I always believed he was born without a soul. Sold it to the devil for his time here on Earth. No one survives as much as he has to open himself to weakness. I'm not the first one to try to take him out. When you have a dog in the fight, when he gets so aggressive that he can't be controlled, there's only one option, put him down.”
I remained silent as I just stared at the man. He actually believed Cowen was some evil spirit aligned with Satan himself. Some people were just born broken, and others were conditioned. I'd seen enough clients, read their files to know some people were just evil. I never thought that about Cowen. He was controlled. Wasn't prone to losing his temper. Every move he made was a calculated and fully planned out maneuver. I'd seen how he handled himself in court, and he never acted impulsively.
Even when he punished me, it was precise and only severe enough to teach me the lesson I needed to learn. I wondered if he'd give me a lesson for not fighting Cristo and his men more. Would he be disappointed in me?
“What are you thinking?”
“Whether he's disappointed in me or not because I didn't try to get away.”
“Out of everything, your impending death, or at the very least torture, you're worried if he's disappointed in you?”
I didn't answer because he didn't need to know what relationship Cowen and I had. If he knew I submitted to Cowen's punishment, if they'd taken off my clothes before they started beating me, they would have noticed the bruises on my ass cheeks. The thin, scabbed wounds I'd earned from Cowen's whip. They wouldn't understand, and I wouldn't open myself to them trying it with me. I wasn't into the pain, but I savored it though. The pain showed me Cowen cared about my safety and well-being, that he only wanted me to do better. Cristo and his men would take it as a challenge. I'd seen the way the man in front of me and the guys who worked for him looked at me.
“You are an odd man. You actually believe that you love a killer, that he may love you in return. There's nothing in that man that will ever love. You're just a corpse that doesn't know it's dead yet.”
Those were Cristo's last words, and I was left alone as I stared up at the boarded window. The wind whistled through the cracks in the panes. I'd peered out the window after I'd arrived and seen nothing but falling down buildings. From the location, I'd assumed we were in the warehouse district in one of the abandoned hotels near the docks, but I hadn't heard the blaring of horns. I'd checked to see if I could escape, but there was nothing outside the window but a sheer drop.
I curled up on the lumpy, stained mattress, grimacing at what might infest it. I was exhausted and hurt, all I could think about was sleep and when I could go home. Soon, I kept telling myself. He would be there soon, and everything would be put right again.