Hadley
Dizziness consumes me from the first burn; pain assaults me from the second. Fury provokes me from the third. I haven’t been weak a day in my life, not in comparison to what men often feel women are. I’ve always been the strong one. The protector. And I see it now. I understand why no harm came to me before.
I was being prepared for this.
The torture these animals think is going to break me.
I’m about to show them just what it means to be an Adair, and they aren’t going to like it one bit. From a young age, we were all taught self-defense, ways to protect ourselves. What to do if or when we were kidnapped. In our family, it seems to be inevitable.
“Tell me, little princess, what will your Daddy pay for you?” One of my abductors laughs from where he stands in the corner of the room, smoking a cigar and watching me.
I continue to ignore him. I’m not here for any monetary gain; I saw the man in charge. He’s made of it. I’m here for something else, but they won’t tell me what. Which is frustrating as hell.
“Well?” He gets annoyed by my lack of answer and yanks my hair, bending my head back to the point it cricks my neck.
Glaring up at him, I allow some of my anger to sift through my tone. “He won’t pay a dime for me.”
“No?” he chuckles, thinking he knows better.
“He’ll skin you alive first.” My mom told me the story of what Dad did for her. How he eliminated the most significant threat in her life: her own father. Dad lit the man on fire, alive; he deserved worse.
“Ha!” His dismissive bark is what'll get him killed. It doesn’t matter, anyways, because when they find me, this man will be nothing but a blip on their radar. I know my family, I know Ashton, they’ll want to cut the head off the snake. And that means getting to the person outside of this room. I can hear my captor passing, his fluent cursing. When I hear a phone smash against a wall, followed by angry steps, I smirk as the door bursts open.
Thundering forward, I’m taken by surprise when this man's finger grazes gently along my jaw. When his thumb tries to pass seductively across my lips. I don’t hesitate.
I bite. Hard. Drawing blood.
“Ahh!” the bastard yells, backhanding me.
Spitting out a mix of his blood and mine on the floor, I challenge his angry stare with one of my own.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he growls.
Allowing my nonchalance to shine through instead of any fear I’m feeling will throw him off, so I shrug. “Does it matter?”
His eyes darken and narrow as his brows draw together in one straight line. I can see before he says anything that he’s going to try to be cruel.
“Do you know what I do with pretty girls like you?” I refuse to answer, but I don’t think he was looking for a response. “All this thick blonde hair”—his fingers run through it, and I cringe, attempting to pull back—“I like to collect it.” He waves a hand for his friend to come near, and that man produces a syringe and gives it to him.
I swallow so hard I’m sure they hear it.
“This is to keep you awake but sedate. You’ll feel everything as I skin the hair off your head.” He stabs my arm with the offending object.
Spitting in his face, I snap, “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. My family will kill you. You’ll die by my father’s hand. He’s crueler than Carver, no matter the rumors. He will gut you and laugh as he sets you on fire.” My body shakes as I feel the drug—or imagine I feel it—flow steadily through my bloodstream.
“Your family does not scare me.” Then he’s a fool.
I watch him and his henchman leave the room, laughing as they think they’ve won. They think they’ve beaten me.
What they don’t realize is my will to survive is far stronger than my instinct to wait around for Ashton and my father. I don’t need any man to rescue me.
The ties on my hands behind my back aren’t very restricting, and unbeknownst to them, I’ve been loosening them over time. I can already feel the effects of the drug as my movements become clumsy. Trying to slow my heart rate down so the blood doesn't pump as quickly, I close my eyes and picture waking up next to Ashton. Listening to his steady pulse as he sleeps next to me.
“Yes,” I hiss as the ropes fall to the floor. Untying my legs takes a minute, but I’m able to do it. Grabbing my things from the corner of the room, I search for my phone. I had to end the call last night with my dad so fast that I’m not sure if I dropped it in the car when they stopped or not.
Wrapping my fingers around the slim device, I’m relieved it’s still there and has a decent charge. Stuffing it in my bra, I know I need to get out of here before either of them comes back or I become paralyzed.
Picking up the chair, I quietly carry it to the window. Standing on it, I push the window open, stopping when it creaks. I say a prayer that they didn't think to secure it and wait thirty seconds before continuing on. Learning that I’m on the first floor of a building, I watch to make sure no one’s coming before jumping out and making a run for the next building, using each for cover as I move through the street.
My legs are tired, and it becomes harder to move as I hide behind a dumpster. Grabbing my phone, I look for a street sign as I wait for Ashton to answer.
“Lamb, where the fuck are you?” I sob at the sound of his voice.
“I escaped. He drugged me, and I can feel it working. You need to hurry. He’s going to scalp me.” I push the words out as fast as I can while still running towards the water I can hear splashing on the docks.
“Tell me what you see,” he demands, and I hear tires squealing.
“The waterfront. Beechmont. I see the Beechmont warehouse.” I’ve been here a dozen times or so in my life. Never allowed to leave the car, but I know there’s a code to get in. “Ask Daddy what the code is. Hurry,” I command when I hear men yelling.