Chapter Twenty
Idris
The doctor won’t take long to arrive, living in-house on the floor under Donald. He even has a surgery room there. And the ones who don’t make it? Well, they go to the basement and the furnace room next to the mechanic shop and car stripping center.
Donald offers us a drink, and I force Alena to sip water and eat as much as she can. I do as well to keep my strength up. He watches us the entire time, which makes me narrow my eyes on him. He smirks. “Forgive me, I’ve just never seen you… care for another.” I must make a noise because he chuckles and sits, taking a cup of tea. “Do not give me your murder face, Boogeyman. You know what I mean.” His eyes flicker to Alena, and I look away, not listening.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, but I hear it. “Alena, my dear, do you have any family looking for you?”
She stills, holding chicken in her bare, dirty hand halfway to her open mouth, which is filled with partially eaten food. It’s even smeared across her face, but it just makes me grin at her savagery. Donald doesn’t blink though, he’s used to working with animals. She swallows before sitting back slightly and shakes her head.
“Friends?” he presses.
“By now, I’m betting they think I’m dead.” She sighs. “I was taken a long time ago. My family died when I was young. I only have an uncle, but he wants nothing to do with me.”
“How long?” he asks with a frown.
“I don’t even know. I was sold originally, but it didn’t work out.” She grins. “I attempted to kill my buyer. They tried to resell me a lot after that, but it never worked out. They got tired of my… disobedience and just made me their men’s plaything. Too long, would be my answer, but will the timeline change the trauma I endured? Will it make my torture less horrendous? So no, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” She looks pointedly down at her body and back at him. “Even if they were looking, they should stop. The Alena who went to the club that night is dead.”
“I see, I’m sorry,” he offers and looks her over. “Do you wish to talk to someone about what happened?”
“Not unless it’s a gun.” She snorts and tears into the meat as he chuckles.
“It seems you have the same coping mechanism as many of my congregation. It’s not a bad way to be, just make sure you don’t lose yourself in the meantime,” he remarks, unable to refrain from offering advice.
Just then, the elevator opens and the doctor appears. He goes to check me over, but I shake my head and jerk it at Alena. He freezes before looking at Donald, who waves him on. “Her fee will be covered by me, do not worry that she isn’t a member.” The old, hunched man who sewed me up more times than I can count but still never learned his name moves to her side. I watch him carefully as he examines her, tutting and muttering under his breath. He doesn’t blanch at the scars or blood, and she slumps a little.
Was she worried?
He sews her up and plasters her toes and fingers. He pokes at her ribs before sighing as he stares at her stomach. “I can try to sew this—”
“No, just make sure it’s not infected,” she interjects at the same time I say, “No.”
“Fine. What do I know? I’m just a doctor,” he mutters but gets his kit out. She’s given IV fluids, lots of tablets, and tests, including STD screenings, a pregnancy test, and normal bloodwork. She’s actually quite healthy for someone who was held captive. She’s malnourished of course, and underweight. Her bloodwork is a little insane, but she has no diseases, thank fuck. I didn’t even consider that when I fucked her raw.
She allows him to do whatever he needs, but when he touches her stomach or near her pussy, she looks at me, as if I’m helping her focus on the present and not her memories. I make sure to stay close in case I need to kill him or stop him from triggering her.
After a few hours, he’s done. He gives her tablets to take with her, ones that will keep her going while she hunts, the ones he gives injured assassins. He advises her against it, but she ignores him. I don’t let him check me over, knowing I’m okay, and he leaves.
“Spider is almost here,” Donald informs us. He’s been working on his laptop the entire time. “He was dealing with a situation.”
I wait in silence, knowing each moment that passes is another chance for them to escape. By now, they must have heard about the building blowing up. Will they stay or go? I’m betting they’ll stay. If they have been fighting against Donald for this long, they have big balls and no plans to release their grasp on the city.
It doesn’t stop me from pacing back and forth. I’m agitated and wanting to go, but we don’t know where yet. Fucking Spider, what was so important he made us wait?
Just then, the elevator dings and the man in question steps out. There’s blood on his suit, so that explains what he’s been up to. He is excellent at getting information. I wonder if he was helping Donald or himself.
Either way, he’s not someone I want to piss off.
“Spider, I need you to clean up Alena’s past and trail please. Also, Boogeyman has a hard drive for you to look at,” Donald tells him.
“So you’re not dead.” He winks at me as he strides over, the cocky fucker almost preening like a peacock in his three-piece suit with his perfect hair and model worthy face. I want to punch him so Alena won’t look. “Though you did cause a mess with that explosion—Alena?” he exclaims, gaping at her. He steps closer, looking her over intently, and I stand with a glare. “The Alena? It is, it’s you.”
She glances between us. “Do I know you?”
He shakes his head. “No, but my partner has been looking for you since you were taken.”
“Why?” Alena queries, taken aback.