DAHLIA ALDRIDGE
Fight. Flight. Freeze.
You never truly know how you will react in that singular second of terror, until you actually experience it. I could have expected ‘flight,’ although considering how I was tied up, that hadn’t been a possibility from the start. More so though, I had expected ‘freeze.’ That was usually what happened when I was scared—I froze.
Not this time though.
I’d fought, and because of my decision, my entire body pulsed in pain from the hard grip of the men that had dragged me screaming from the bedroom. The image of Yates on the floor bleeding and Stratton knocking a needle from one of their hands before falling to the ground on his knees, a solid hit to the face rendering him unconscious, was burned into my memory. I don’t think I would ever be able to get the image out of my mind.
I certainly would never be able to forget the pure panic I’d felt. I had tried so hard to surge forward, wanting to get to them…but then everything went dark, a cloth stuffed in my mouth and a bag over my head. It had been terrifying, and that’s why I had thought for sure I would freeze up. Instead, something inside me snapped.
The idea that two of the six men I loved—the men who to me were larger than life—being laid out lit a fire in me to not only fight but survive to get to them. It didn’t matter what they had planned for me, and it didn’t matter that I was in danger. I just started to kick, hit, and scratch, hoping like hell that the grunts I kept hearing meant they were hurting. I had hoped they would let me go, but I should have known that was out of the realm of possibility. Curses surrounded me as I tried to spit out the cloth from my mouth and scream, my breathing turning fast and shallow as I tried to not hyperventilate. Yet no matter how much I fought, how much I tried… I didn’t stand a chance against that many men.
How could I be this useless? This defenseless? A surge of frustration toppled over me as panic like I’d never experienced before hit me. What if I had been with our kids and something like this had happened? We didn’t even have kids, but the idea of not being able to defend them made me sick to my stomach.
Never again.
I would never again feel as helpless as I did now, sitting in a cold, drafty, seemingly empty room, with a bag over my head that only allowed me to see the faint outline of shapes around me. I was chained against some type of grate, and the floor beneath me was cold and wet. I tried to pull away from the wall, the chains biting into my wrists and tearing the skin, causing me to hiss. The sound echoed through the room, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the pain in my body, specifically my stomach and ribs.
That had been the only way they’d been able to get me in the car to begin with.
After they’d landed a solid punch to my stomach, I had curled in on myself, being tossed onto a hard floor that was damp and smelled like blood. I had barely caught my breath, my eyes burning with tears, before someone landed a sharp kick to my ribs. It had rendered me breathless, the horrible pain and sudden trouble inhaling making me pray that I hadn’t broken a rib or punctured a lung. I thought at the time that had been my biggest issue.
Now though? Considering the strong smell of blood and the wet, clumpy floor underneath me, I had a feeling my problems were much larger than a potential rib issue and breathing pain. Not just violence, either—no, there was another voice that told me I needed to very much worry about the men who had kidnapped me and what they had planned. A fuzzy memory of the ride here came to me…
I laid face down on the floor, someone’s foot pressed to the middle of my back to keep me down. Not that they had to worry—I was absolutely useless right now, the pain overwhelming as a rumble shook the surface I was pressed to. I needed to stay conscious, I knew that, but everything hurt so much, and my eyes felt puffy.
“You almost ruined everything,” a voice said next to my ear, the other men in the truck silent. Despite not being able to see, I could tell they were there. The voice continued, “You made a mistake crossing me, Dahlia Aldridge.”
Then he was gone, and moments later, someone else was grabbing my jaw. I couldn’t see them, the darkness of the car sheltering them in shadows. I’m not positive I wanted to know who I was coming face to face with. I wasn’t positive that I wanted to see the person who thought they were powerful enough to go against my boys.
“I wanted this to go differently.” His accented voice tugged at a memory, making me know that somewhere in my non-pain-addled brain, I knew who this person was. He continued, “But instead you had them put a hit out on me. Just remember, I gave you an option, and instead I had to pull you from their estate. Forcibly. In some ways, this is so much fucking sweeter, stealing your from their beds in just a damn robe. You probably still have his cum inside of you, you little whore.”
I whimpered as a hand slid up my leg to push the robe up near my butt, my breathing growing rough and panicked.
The first voice spoke up in a firm tone. “Do not touch her, boy. I’ll have you shot dead.”
The hand froze as the man made a sound of disgust before leaning down. “We aren’t done here. We will never be done. Understand?”
A hit came to my side from his boot as he stood, and everything went dark again…
Suddenly, a sound yanked me from my memories as a chill of terror went up my spine. I scrambled in my head to think back on those two voices, both of which felt extremely familiar.Think, Dahlia, think.Unfortunately, I knew my time was limited and that I would find out soon enough who exactly had thought this was a good idea.
I needed to be prepared to stall them, to keep them occupied.
If there was one thing that I knew, a truth that was cemented in my soul, it was that my boys would find me. They would come for me. Rationally, I knew I should have been freaked out by the level of their ‘find me’ ability, but instead it left me with a sense of peace and confidence.
Even now, like a sixth sense, I could feel their shadows reaching out to me. That knowledge left me feeling far more calm as I prepared myself for the part I had to play in this. I was going to help out the only way I could—by staying strong and delaying whatever plan my captors had while figuring out what the hell was going on.
I could almost feel myself naturally disassociating from this trauma-filled situation, the sharpness of the base need to just survive winning over. I had no doubt that later this would be a problem, but I couldn’t afford to be distracted. I had a feeling that I wasn’t the only one in danger, and I would be damned if my boys got hurt. We were right on the edge of getting everything, and I wouldn’t lose it now.
“Where is our little prisoner?” a voice sang as footsteps echoed through the space, my pulse hyping up as I tried to remain perfectly still.
Suddenly, the bag over my head was ripped off violently, the bright, clinical lights overhead thrown on all at once. I gasped as I lost my equilibrium and fell over, crying out as the wet cement caused a jolt of pain to go through my shoulder. A hand dragged me up by my elbow, and I heard a chair scraping against the floor, causing me to focus not on the guard holding my arm hostage, but instead on the man now sitting in front of me. My eyes fully adjusted, and I felt fury reign inside of me.
I should have expected this.
“You don’t look surprised, Dahlia,” Dermot’s father mused, lighting a cigarette as his gaze ran over me. I looked down, feeling vulnerable, suddenly thankful that I was wearing such an oversized robe that covered most of me… despite its ability to absorb the blood on the floor. At least it was thick enough that it hadn’t soaked through… I tried to not gag as I realized that those chunks I had felt before on the floor were very much organic matter. As in, they used to belong inside someone’s body and now they were millimeters away from mine. I inhaled sharply and narrowed my eyes on the man.