Paetyn’s POV
For a split second, my brain convinces me I’m blind. Darkness surrounds me, engulfing me whole and holding me hostage. But the soft buzzing working its way into the depths of my mind tells me that I haven’t been completely dragged down to the depths of hell with no sight of return.
Not yet, at least.
My head thumps painfully, the source coming from deep behind my eyes. The rhythmic movement echoes in my ears, making it hard to think straight. I try my best to force my hand up to cradle my head, hoping it’ll ease the pain, but my limbs are heavy. Too heavy to move.
With a groan, I fight against the pain coursing through my body to force my eyes open. At first, it’s almost painful. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued shut, keeping me from seeing. But with a great deal of effort, I pry them open and am immediately assaulted by a warm, orange glow above me.
A hiss slips past my lips as I fight to clear my vision. The sudden intrusion of light hitting my eyes only intensifies the pounding in my skull. Everything hurts.
But why?
Why does my body feel as though it’s on fire and weighs as much as a cement truck?
My limbs seem to be working now because I’m able to bring my elbow under me to prop my body up. I blink rapidly to clear my vision and focus on calming my heavy breathing. When my surroundings become clear, my heart rate spikes all over again.
Where the hell am I?
With my heart in my throat, I gaze down at the thin white sheets wrapped haphazardly around my jean-clad legs. The mattress beneath me is dirty and has seen better days. What shocks me the most is the thick chain cuffed around my ankle, keeping me a hostage of the twin bed. The metal is rusted and looks as though it has been around for many years.
The sleeves of my long-sleeved blouse are rolled up to my elbows, exposing me to the chill in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I find the coat I was wearing when I left work folded neatly on the floor.
My eyes snap up to gaze around the rest of the room lit only by a single bulb hanging overhead. I fear if I make any sudden movements, whoever brought me here will come barging into the room. The boarded-up window above the small bed I lie on is almost mocking me—a reminder that it’s my only way of escaping this small room.
Heavy breathing sounds from across the room, and at that moment, my heart almost slams through my rib cage. Without so much as moving a muscle, I drag my eyes away from the window to the single chair situated in the corner opposite the bed, beside the only door to the room.
The masked man I have been seeing the past few days sits in the black leather chair silently, his long legs spread out in front of him. He’s so silent as he regards me, his hands clasped together in his laip. I feel his gaze upon me from behind the barrier he uses to keep his identity hidden.
A cold chill races down my spine. Just like every other time I have encountered him.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words get caught in my dry throat, unable to make their escape. My throat works to relieve the dryness as I swallow hard. I’m unable to take my eyes off the masked man for fear that if I let him out of my sight, he might attack.
“Wh-who are you?” My voice is small, barely above a whisper. But he heard me. The slight tilt of his head gives him away. “Why d-did you take me?”
The memory of him cornering me in the alleyway on my way home from work blasts through my mind like a home movie, replaying the moment he caught me, his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist as he dragged me into the depths of darkness I couldn’t escape.
I had no real chance of getting away from him. But I had hoped someone would save me. Anyone. And now I’m here, chained to a bed, while he watches me intently, not saying a goddamn word.
“Please let me go home.” My hands shake more and more with each word. I manage to push myself into a seated position, ignoring the way my bones creak with the simple movement. “I have a fiance who will be looking for me.”
The masked man snorts, the sound deep, but doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, inky curls spilling around from the behind the mask. Waiting. Watching. The silence is almost suffocating, squeezing my lungs so tightly I’m unable to force air into my lungs.
What does he want from me?
Who the hell is this man?
Dampness stings the hairs in my nostrils, and I have to force back a gag at the terrible scent. The room smells wet like it’s been flooded previously and the odor hasn’t been removed. It’s a vast contrast to the floral candles I burn every night at home because Liam says he likes the light fragrance.
Liam.
Oh, God. I’m sure he’s worried sick about me. At least, I hope he is. When I was taken from the alleyway, Raya was still on the phone, so I’m sure she has informed Liam about what happened. He would have gone to the police right away when I didn’t come home. I’m sure of it.
Knowing that people are out there searching for me gives me a small moment of comfort. But it’s ruined by the masked man staring silently at me. The muscles in his biceps flex slightly as if he’s clenching his fists momentarily. Despite the slight chill in the air, he’s still wearing a black T-shirt with his black jeans. It’s as if the cold doesn’t affect him at all.
“Are you doing this for ransom?” I ask, my voice raspy. My heart pounds in my chest with each second ticking by without hearing a single word from my kidnapper. “Are you going to kill me? Sell me into sex trafficking? What do you want from me?”
Panic seeps into my pores at the thought of either of those scenarios happening. This could go either way; I could live, or I could die, and the thought of the latter terrifies me.
What if I don’t make it home alive?
The masked man keeps his mouth shut. He stands from the chair and cracks his knuckles, his eyes searing into my skin from behind the mask. At the sight of the scars on his knuckles—an indicator that he uses his fists quite a bit—I cower against the metal frame headboard, hoping it’ll put some distance between us.
But instead of moving in my direction, he turns to the door, unlocks the latch, and steps through it. When the door closes behind him, I hear what sounds like a lock clicking into place, trapping me inside.
Even though my head is spinning and my limbs are heavy, I know this might be one of my only chances to find an escape route. He could come back with a decision about my fate—one that doesn’t allow me to see the light of morning. I take this moment of silence as an opportunity to spring from the bed.
The wooden floorboards squeak beneath the weight of my feet. I cringe at the sound, hoping the masked man didn’t hear it from wherever he has gone. I could be locked in a little cabin in the middle of the woods or a basement in a house on a suburban street. The possibilities are endless. Either way, I need to get the hell out of here.
I try to explore the space around the twin bed, but the chain around my ankle only lets me get so far before I’m helpless to move anywhere else. But the small give in the chain does allow me to inspect the window above the bed. It’s boarded up with old planks of wood, not allowing so much as a sliver of light to peek through it. Which means I’m unable to inspect the surroundings outside.
“Goddamn it,” I groan, frustration prickling my skin. “This is useless.”
The lock on the door sliding open sends my heart plummetingskyrocketing to the bottom of my feet. I whirl around just in time to see the masked man entering the room with a tray of food. The scent of cold deli ham wafts through the air, mixing with the damp smell. The odor of food instantly makes my stomach growl with hunger, reminding me I have no idea what day it is or how long I’ve gone without eating.
He sets the tray on the end of the mattress with easy strides before turning to stand in front of the closed door. I feel his eyes on me as he clasps his hands together in front of him, his body straight and rigid.
I look between him and the ham sandwich and bottle of water on the tray. “Is that for me?”
He doesn’t so much as give me a nod, but the tilt of his head is answer enough.
I eye the bottle of water, desperate to quench the thirst clawing at my throat. The thought that he could have slipped some sort of drug into the water crosses my mind. But as much as I would like to deny his offer of food purely so I can keep my senses about me, the violent growl of my stomach gives me away.
I’m starving and thirsty. And if I want to keep my energy up to have a fighting chance of escaping this room, I need to get something in me.
My body vibrates with nerves as I lower onto the edge of the mattress. The sandwich shakes slightly in my trembling hands as I bring it to my mouth. I don’t bother inspecting the food before I take a bite. The moment the ham and cheese touch my taste buds, I’m unable to stop myself from taking large bites, desperate to fill the ache in my stomach. He’s added lettuce, mayo, and tomato, too, as if he knows how I like my ham sandwiches. Lucky guess.
With each bite I take, I feel my kidnapper’s intense gaze searing a hole into my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine.
I wish I knew what he was thinking or why he brought me here in the first place. Not knowing what’s going to happen to me is a terrifying feeling. He could do whatever he wanted to me in the blink of an eye, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But instead, he’s watching me eat the food he offered, not saying a single word.
It’s unnerving, really.
Within two minutes, the sandwich is gone and the bottle of water is mostly empty. Eating so fast has given me a stomachache, but it’s better than the feeling of being hungry. Even though I’m still thirsty, I know I need to preserve the water for as long as possible since I don’t know if he’s going to give me more or not.
He steps forward to collect the tray with his tattooed arm. Instinct has me scrambling back on the bed, my eyes fixed on every tiny movement he makes.
He stands to his full height, towering over me with the red tray gripped firmly in his hands. Just when I think he’s going to turn around and leave, an unexpected deep voice sounds from behind the Halloween-esque mask that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t even think about trying to escape. You won’t get far.”
Paetyn’s POVI’ve been bedridden at home for twenty-four hours, and I’m already losing my damn mind. Who knew sitting in bed all day would actually be so bat shit boring? Sure, I love a relaxing day as much as the next person, but when it’s forced upon me, and I get no say in what I do, I can’t stand it. The quiet throughout the house besides the voices coming from whatever TV show I threw on is growing increasingly more unnerving. My gaze sweeps across the duvet to the book on the bedside table, bookmark nestled between the pages. Not even reading a new bestseller has diminshed any of the boredom I’m experiencing. No amount of distractions has helped me to relax. It doesn’t help that I’m worried about Ace. When he got into bed last night, I could tell something was off. Whatever happened in his office while I was on the phone with Clarissa rattled him to the point that he could barely speak. I didn’t push him on the topic because I had a feeling it was related to Enzo and the Gambi
Ace’s POVI’m so fucked. I knew it the moment I took the call from Amos last night.When I sat down at my desk, intent on catching up on emails and texts, my phone rang. I was close to not answering the call from Amos because I had been ignoring him and Enzo all week, too busy at the hospital with Paetyn, so why connect now? But I knew I couldn’t avoid this conversation for much longer. “Boss wants to see you in his office tomorrow morning,” Amos said, voice gruff. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “And what’s this about?”“You’ll find out when you get here. Ten A.M. Don’t be late.”The call ended as quick as it started, and I was left staring at my desktop, ice filling my veins to the point I was almost suffocating. I knew what Enzo wanted to see me about and knew it wouldn't end well for me. Walking out on a job last week and ignoring him since had clearly landed me in scalding water. All I could do was face the music and accept the punishment I knew would be coming my way. Sit
Paetyn’s POV“Now, are you sure you’re okay, Pae?”I turn in the front seat, eyes lingering on the curve of Ace’s jaw. His knuckles are pale as they hold the steering wheel in what I’m sure is a death grip. Even beneath the leather jacket he’s wearing, I see the tension rippling through his muscles. Since the attack seven days ago, Ace has hardly left my side. Unless it was to grab coffee, food, or use the bathroom, he’s been glued to the chair beside my bed, holding my hand. I hadn’t expected him to do so since I knew he had his own business to deal with and work he needed to do, but he reassured me that he wasn’t going anyway unless it was to take me home once I was discharged. I don’t remember much about the attack. All I know is I blacked out after taking a boot to the side of the head—which I’m thankful for. If I was conscious throughout the entire ordeal, I can’t imagine how much more pain I would’ve suffered. The doctors and nurses said I was lucky to be alive because of how
Ace’s POVIt pained me to leave Paetyn in that sterile hospital room this morning. The nurses were kind enough to give me a blanket and let me sleep in the chair, mainly because I refused to leave her side despite visiting hours being over. It became obvious rather quickly that I wasn’t the type of person to back down from something as trivial as visiting hours, so they relented and let me spend the night. Sleep didn’t grace me with its presence. How could I close my eyes when all I could picture was Paetyn’s battered body lying on the cold, dirty ground of the alleyway? Guilt ate away at me while I watched her sleep, her breathing labored and her chest rising and falling unevenly. She wouldn’t tell me every detail of the attack, just that she eventually lost consciousness and woke up in the hospital. A nurse told me someone called 911 after finding her, left for dead. If that person hadn’t found her when they did, she could’ve died. I left the hospital before the sun had risen, ne
Ace’s POVA scream pierces through the air, sharp and painful. Any normal person would cringe at the sound or be filled with such fear it would make their knees wobble like a newborn fawn. But I’m not a normal person. Never claimed to be. I’m the fucking devil. I squat in front of the man chained to the roof of the basement in the Gambino mansion. His trembling arms are attached to the hook on the low ceiling by a thick metal clasp. He hangs there helplessly, leaving the rest of his body exposed to me to do with as I please. My gaze rakes over the sweat and blood clinging to his pale skin. Bruises and gashes paint his body like the finest piece of artwork, thanks to my fists. Electricity thrums through my veins at the sight of this kid, not much older than nineteen if I had to guess. I should feel some ounce of remorse for punishing someone who is nowhere near mature enough to understand his actions. And some part of me wants to feel that because he doesn’t know any better. But I d
Paetyn’s POVI’m concerned about Ace. Last week, I noticed he had busted knuckles that were split and beginning to bruise around the torn skin. When I asked what happened to him, he gave me that same straight-faced look I always get when I asked questions about his job. I know he is an enforcer and has to hurt people, but it doesn’t make me any less worried about him when he leaves in the morning. Not knowing if he’s out on the streets in danger sends me into a spiral more often than not. I know he’s a man capable of looking after himself, but it still doesn’t ease the tension in my chest. He won’t tell me the details of his job, and I don’t expect him to, but sometimes I think I would be better off knowing to help me relax a little more. But until that day comes—if ever—I will have to get used to worrying about my boyfriend. Boyfriend. It’s an odd feeling thinking of him as that. Who would’ve known that Ace, my kidnapper and stalker, would become my boyfriend? Certainly not me, bu