But I have to deal with it, I have to because I want to make sure I get out of this alive. I want to make sure that this piece of crap never gets his hands on Jagger. I have to make sure of it. I have to fix this, even if right now I don’t know how I’m going to do that. It’s all a mess, a big fucking mess. All along Jagger has been so worried about protecting me when all along what they truly wanted was him.
I can’t believe we were so naive and now his life is in danger. Mick has been happily bragging about his plan to me, so confident I’m not going to be able to warn Jagger, so confident I’m not getting out of this place before he has the chance to carry out his sick, twisted little game. He told me he is going to use me as a trade, that he will let me go when Jagger agrees to fight for him. If Jagger tries to run, he’ll have someone kill me. He’s using both of us against each other, and because of that, he’s probably going to win.
Not if I can help it.
The creaking sound of the door unlocking has my head whipping up to see Mick entering. He comes in a lot, to brag mostly. He likes to tell me exactly the kind of hell he’s planning on putting his own flesh and blood through, and he enjoys every second of it. He’s always smiling, always so damned proud of himself. As for Sharleen, she stays away, because she knows if I could get my hands on her, I’d rip her fucking eyes out.
“How are we feeling today, Willow my dear?” Mick asks, striding in and placing a water bottle down beside me along with a granola bar.
He doesn’t feed me much, just enough to keep me from going completely crazy.
I ignore him, turning my head away, done playing his pathetic fucking games.
“Ignoring me, are we? That’s fine. I don’t need you to speak to me to carry out my plan. Jagger has figured out you’re gone, and he knows I have you. It’ll only be so long before he comes chasing after you and ends up right where I want him.”
Anger bursts forth as I whip around to face him.
“He’s your son!” I whisper, horrified. “He is your own flesh and blood. How can you live with yourself?”
“My son is talented, my son is angry, my son is broken. He’s exactly what I need, and he’ll make me some great money. I don’t plan on hurting him if he follows instruction, of course...”
“You’re asking him to fight for money,” I grind out. “He could die.”
Mick snorts. “My son is the best fighter there is, he won’t die.”
He’s as stupid as he looks if he truly believes that. Jagger might be a good fighter, but when you’re doing it every day, slowly being beaten down, you’re going to get weak and then you’re going to get hurt. Mick will kill him, little by little, he’ll kill him.
“He will die,” I continue. “And stop calling him your son. He’s not your son. You don’t care about him. If you cared about him, you wouldn’t be doing this to him.”
Mick waves a hand. “It’s of no concern to you. I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. When he agrees to the trade, you can move on. Find yourself a good man, one who isn’t all fucked up and broken.”
“I love him,” I growl. “There is nobody else for me.”
“It could be worse,” he shrugs. “I could use him for trafficking, or you for that matter. Or both, now there’s a deal that could get me some money. You should be thankful that I’m sparing you. Things could be a whole lot worse.”
God, the fact that he thinks he’s doing me a favor makes me sick. I jerk in my restraints, hissing, “I’d kill myself before you ever got that close to me. I’d never give you the satisfaction.”
He grins. “I heard you had certain tendencies for self-harm. Poor thing. I guess you won’t do too well out there on your own, will you? Oh well, it won’t be my problem.”
“I’m a lot stronger than you could even begin to imagine,” I say, my voice shaky but determined.
He’s smiling at me, and I want to slap him. He is so cocky, so confident, it’s making a rage burn deep inside me, one that I’m struggling to fight against.
“Are you certain about that?” he questions, crossing his arms.
He’s giving me a look that’s so unwavering, it makes me uneasy. Like he knows exactly how things are going to go, like he knows exactly what buttons of mine to push to make me snap. That thought terrifies me, but I won’t let him win.