Captives Novels & Stories

On our wedding anniversary, Eugene tied me up on the rooftop of an unfinished building. He sat calmly before me, playing a video with deliberate slowness. In the video, my father knelt repeatedly, begging Eugene for my sake. My eyes burned with rage, but Eugene kicked me violently, snapping, "Do you feel distressed seeing your father like this? But how can it compare to even a fraction of the sorrow I felt when I lost Megan?" The sudden pain caused me to arch my back, and darkness clouded my vision, almost sending me into unconsciousness, yet I was powerless to scream.

Through our bond, I felt Alex's immediate strategic interest. "Tell me about these others," I requested. "What gifts do they have?" As Sarah described the other captives - a man who could manipulate technology with a thought, a woman who could heal with a touch, a child who could speak to animals - Melissa moved closer, her protective instincts extending to these unknown prisoners. She wanted them all to be free and have a choice in how their future goes. "They're keeping them separately," Sarah explained. "Using their gifts but never letting them contact each other. They don't realize how much stronger we are together."

While Sherryl was lost in her own thoughts, the people in the room couldn’t help but keep their ears on Dallion's words. Captives, reduced to nothing but dust beneath the feet of mafia bosses and their powerful elites, were treated with derogatory remarks, degraded by their owners, as their lives belonged to the ones who had bought or captured them. Yet, very few actually called the captives by their real names—something that once in a while raised the eyebrows of the others in the room.

I answered almost immediately. “Well… till then, you'll do as I say.” “I’ll do as you say but not on this one.” “Then, I'll make you,” he scoffed. The crackle of a gun brought me to my senses. “You can either choose to die or do as I say.” I took my panties off and here I was naked before my captor’s rival. All I wanted was to run away from earth entirely. My life was a total mess. I began to wonder how I became so unfortunate.

Her broken, lifeless body crumpled onto the forest floor, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood pooled beneath her, the stark red staining the earth. My breath caught in my throat as the man wiped his bloodied claws on his pants, a grin curling his lips. He turned back to the truck, his gaze sweeping over the captives with dark amusement. “I guess that’s enough lessons for the day,” he murmured. Terror held me frozen, while the other captives stifled their cries. These weren’t ordinary criminals. They were rogues. The truck lurched forward once more, the heavy doors slamming shut.

"No one will ever hurt you again." Isabella cried in his arms like a wounded dove. And I was dragged away like a common criminal. New York City Detention Center, Cell Block 7. This was where they held women on remand for minor charges. When they pushed me into the cell, a few imposing women surrounded me. "New girl? What're you in for?" The leader was a large woman with tattooed arms. "Assault," I answered simply. "Ooh, a little spitfire," the woman grinned, cracking her knuckles. "You know the rules here? Newbies pay a protection fee."

The man led her to a lavish bedroom, she looked round at the expensive furnitures and interior, he grabs her hands and removes the duct tape on her wrists. “You’re safe here” he says in a soft tone. “Do not fear, you’ll be taken care of” Betty’s gaze met his and for a moment she saw something in his eyes that gave her a pause, something that can never be seen in a killer’s eyes, it was almost……..kindness, but before she could process it in her mind, he turns and leaves, leaving Betty in a state of confusion. Betty used her free time as an opportunity to explore the room. The room was a luxurious room with cream-colored walls, plush carpeting, and elegant furnishings. A large, ornate bed domi

He wouldn't let this happen. He would come for me. He always did. Even | knew life with Massimo...his controlling hands, his unpredictable moods, and his obsessive nature was better than whatever this stranger had planned. Bootsteps scraped against the floor and I forced myself to lift my head. My captor, ugly and smug, a shadow of a man with teeth that caught in the lantern light, stood a few feet away watching me like I was somne prize animal he'd caught in a trap. His face looked like it had been

"What do you mean by captive? Aren't you his mate?" "I don't understand the concept of your world." I began, peering into Alpha Sofiane's steel grey eyes. "Two days ago. My life was my own. The next minutes. I was too drunk for my own good and encountered a man being murdered. I was supposed to be next too but seemed like someone had other plans. Now I'm trapped in this house with a demented werewolf. If you think I was dangerous and not to be trusted like your mind keeps screeching out, do you think I would sit here and just wait for you?"

he mumbled as they made their way in the basement area which Cristopher has access to one of the rooms. The basement is generally where they hold captive, the people who are captured to be trespassing or just some spies who thinks that they can rat themselves in the association unnoticed. Edgar led Cristopher to the end of the hall where a metallic, rusty door stood. The basement was awfully quiet since the captives knew that their fates will be sealed the moment that they try to attempt in breaching captivity. “She’s here…?” he questioned, glancing over at his subordinate with a straight expression. The type of expression with a hint of another emotion that E