Captives Novels & Stories

Sophie shifted her seat beside me as she spoke. “What do you mean their first?” The coldness of the Dark Woods seemed to grow stronger and stronger each moment. The rustling in the woods, the howls of the wolves, and the invisible eyes that I felt before seemed to flood all my senses. Petra locked her eyes on Sophie. “We are not their first.” Everyone’s eyes and ears were all focused on Petra. “We are not the first captives the blood drinkers took.” Sophie gasped beside me with her hand placed over her mouth.

"Oh okay." The more realization settled within me, the more my tears threatened to spill and I didn't want to cry. I didn't want him to see me cry again, that would show him that his plan is working. I couldn't imagine a life of captivity waiting patiently for when your captor agrees to take your life and end your misery while meeting your family on the other side as the only flicker of happiness existing within you. It wouldn't take long before we reach his kingdom and his plan begins to unfold. I wonder whom he would kill first and how he was going to end their life and how he would choose to end me when he was done with them.

The fact that they did it in front of that door meant they wanted me to hear them talk "What do you mean?" "The guy is mad or something, why on earth is he thinking us for? Beating the living crap out of him?" "He was just raised well maybe that's all, don't start getting into the Lima syndrome shit and stuff" "What the fuck is that?" "Lima syndrome? Where the captor starts feeling sympathy for the hostage"

he asked, Klaus pushed himself up far enough from his chair to open one of his desk drawers, took out a sealed folder and tossed it in front of Peter. "The truth is, Anika is my prisoner, I will keep her captive until she gives me what I need, and if she does not return my merchandise, she will pay the consequences"

He put the phone in front of her face. “I…I…I…” she stuttered. He exhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. “Speak!” his voice thundered. “Father…” her voice faltered as she tried to fight back the tears. “I need you, I really need you. I am in danger, Camila is in danger. Someone…” she looked up at him and looked away immediately, “These men have taken me captive, they won’t let me go, if you don’t come…” “Tell them not to do anything funny,” he whispered.

What I witnessed was horrific enough to haunt my dreams, but I can't even begin to imagine what horrors his eyes have seen in those underground chambers. The last warrior speaks up, his voice carefully neutral. "I checked out one of the buildings at the back of the compound. It’s a prison. It's where they keep the bulk of the captives who are deemed unsuitable for use as slaves. They're catalogued like... like inventory." The word hangs heavy between us. Dominicus straightens, slipping seamlessly into his Alpha voice. "We can brief the pack in more detail when we return. Every piece of information might be useful for the upcoming fight. For now, we need to pro

“Travis is still putting all the pieces together. We’re looking at a couple hundred solid convictions just on the money trail alone. The actual handlers of the human captives have all vanished, of course, but we’ll sniff them out.” I thought about making eggs, but they didn’t appeal. “We’ve found the fAmelies of about thirty of the human captives, but the reunions sometimes go very poorly. We’re offering counseling for everyone, of course.” “What’s an example of ‘poorly’?”

He opens the back of the semi-truck, and I can see what’s inside. There are mostly young women huddled inside. From their scents, I can tell they’re shifters aside from a few human women. There are a few boys, mostly teenagers. From the state of them, they could be runaways or homeless people that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. “This one’s a fighter,” my first captor says. “Almost bit my fucking ear off when we tried to grab her.” Mustache Man nods. “That’s good to know.”

I worked my ass off before gathering all these assets and I don't like to wake up one day and find out that someone has ruined it. She wants to be drilled like a whore every day and night, right? Then I will give her what she wants. I will get her, turn her into one of my sex slaves, and torture her till my heart contents. I will show her who is the boss here. The door beeped and I needed no one to tell me it was one of my men. I guessed right. Zico walked in with a brown paper, and I cleared my throat, ready to hear the information that I demanded.

When she sees us approaching, her expression shifts through relief, professional satisfaction, and something that might be wistful acceptance. "Everyone's accounted for," she reports. "Seventeen captives total, all alive, various stages of recovery needed." Various stages of recovery. The phrase encompasses more than just physical healing from drugs and restraints. These people have been traumatized by imprisonment and experimentation, separated from families and packs, treated as research subjects rather than individuals. The recovery process is going to be long and complex for everyone involved. "Thank you," Brynlee says to Harper, her voice still weak but s