"I'm so stupid... I should've stuck with him—fuck!"
Elara's voice cracked as she folded over her knees, fingers digging into her scalp. Her breaths were sharp, uneven, raw.
We sat on the cold concrete ledge outside Best Buy, the flashing red-and-blue lights of patrol cars painting her face in a sickly swirl of color. It made her look ghostly — like the life had been siphoned out of her.
She wasn't usually like this.
Elara never broke.
Never shook.
Never quit.
But right now? She was unraveling.
"I turned my back for two minutes, Bella..." she choked out, her voice breaking. "Two minutes. And now he's— he's gone." Her knuckles scraped against the pavement as she slammed her fist down, a fractured little sound leaving her throat.
"It's my fault too..." I finally managed, my voice cracking as I pressed my thumb into my temple. The pressure didn't help—nothing did—but I needed something to focus on other than the rising panic in my chest. "I was so stupidly distracted..."
The admission tasted bitter, like poison I'd brewed myself.
The officers nearby murmured to each other, but none of them had answers. Their radios crackled useless static. The parking lot around us felt impossibly empty, as if Noah had fallen out of the world itself.
My stomach twisted.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, only to smear more tears across my cheek. My voice came out rough, almost feral.
"We'll find him, Elara. I swear we will."
I stared at the ground, at the faint skid marks near the back of the store — the only hint of where he'd been taken. My throat felt tight, burning. "And when we find the bitch who took him..." My fists clenched so hard my nails bit into my palm. "We're gonna make her entire bloodline disappear."
Elara lifted her head slowly, her eyes swollen and red, but steady. Determined. Her grief was turning into something sharper. Something violent.
She studied me — and for a moment, I saw that terrifying fire she kept hidden under her skin. The same flame that could level mountains if she ever let it loose.
She nodded once, a single tear slipping down her cheek and hitting the concrete with a soft tap.
A tap that sounded too much like Noah's cries.
"We're gonna make her regret it..." she whispered, voice low, trembling with rage and heartbreak.
I reached over and took her hand. Not gently. Not delicately. But with the same promise she had just made.
Yeah.
Whoever took him?
She had no idea what hell she had just unleashed.
(Noah pov)
"So, you're coming tomorrow, right? You and the rest of the girls?" Laura's voice purred beside me, her fingers tracing over my stomach where she'd left a series of shallow, stinging cuts. She was obsessed with knifeplay,
dragging the cold edge of the blade across my skin with a twisted kind of affection. I despised how my body betrayed me, a shiver of unwanted pleasure mixing with the pain as she toyed with me.
"Good, that's settled then. And don't forget—send me the test results, all three of you. I'm not about to let my property get tainted with some filthy disease." Her tone was sharp, possessive, as she leaned in and pressed her lips against my hair, a sickeningly tender gesture that made my stomach churn.
Being called her 'property' sent a wave of nausea through me, bitter bile rising in my throat. And the thought of her sharing me with others—God, I silently begged for Elara and Bella to hurry, to find me before this nightmare got worse.
"Yeah, talk to you later. Bye." She ended the call with a dismissive flick of her wrist, then let out a long, dramatic yawn.
Her eyes slid over to me, a predatory glint in them. "Hmm, I think it's feeding time for you." Her voice dipped low, mocking. It had been a full day since she'd dragged me into this hellhole, a day without a scrap of food.
My stomach was a gnawing, hollow pit, aching so fiercely I felt like I could devour anything put in front of me, even if it came from her hands.
"I'll be back. Don't try anything..."
Her voice lingered long after her footsteps faded. The door clicked shut, and the room swallowed me in its awful stillness.
I tried to scream—god, I tried—but all that came out were these strangled, breathless whimpers that barely made it past my throat. Just enough sound to remind me how helpless I was.
Tears slid down my face silently. By now crying felt routine, like breathing. I missed my girls so much it hurt in a completely different way than the rest of me.
I kept replaying that stupid thought in my mind—the dream of moving far away, the quiet life, the peace. Now it felt like some other lifetime's fantasy, something that belonged to a version of me who wasn't tied up in a dark shrine dedicated to his own face.
I forced myself to look around again, because sitting still made the panic worse.
The walls were covered in pictures. Me laughing, me sleeping with my girls, me walking home, me doing nothing.
All taken without me knowing. Dozens of them. Too many. And then—my stomach twisted—I saw one I didn't understand how she could possibly have. Something private. Something no one should've had.
Before my mind could spiral, the door opened again.
Laura walked back in holding a sandwich and a bottle of water like she was a nurse doing her nightly rounds. "Dinner time," she said softly, like this was the most normal scene in the world.
She set the water on the nightstand and brought the sandwich to my mouth. I leaned forward, bit into the dry ham and bread, and chewed faster than I meant to. Hunger made my whole body shake.
"Want water?" she asked, unexpectedly gentle.
I nodded.
She lifted the bottle and tipped it against my lips. The cold water rushed into my mouth and down my throat, and for a second I felt the closest thing to bliss I'd had since I was taken.
Then the bottle pulled away. She set it back and continued feeding me until the sandwich was gone—six, maybe seven bites. Everything blurred together.
When I finished, she brushed a crumb off my cheek with her thumb. The touch made every muscle in me clench.
"There," she whispered, almost proud. "See? You're easy to take care of when you behave."
I turned my head away from her, ignoring the weight of her gaze, and muttered, "Can I have more water, please?" My voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.
She reached for the bottle, her fingers brushing against it with deliberate slowness, but before she poured, she paused. Her eyes locked onto mine, smoldering with that familiar, hungry intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Please what?" Her tone was teasing, laced with a cruel edge that demanded submission.
I let out a heavy sigh, the air escaping through gritted teeth as I forced myself to comply.
"Please, Mistress..."
The word scraped against my throat like gravel, bitter and wrong. It felt like betrayal—only Elara and Bella deserved that title, not her. Never her.
A smirk curled her lips as she tilted the bottle to my mouth, the cool rim pressing against my chapped lips. I drank greedily, the stream of water sliding down my throat, quenching the dryness that clung to me like a second skin. I kept sipping until the last drop was gone, then let out a quiet, contented breath. Water. It was the only thing that brought me any semblance of peace in this hell.
"You're so damn cute when you drink, you know that?" Her voice cut through the silence, mockingly sweet. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she chuckled. "It almost looks like you're sucking on a clit..."
That laugh—sharp, grating, like nails on a chalkboard—sent a shiver down my spine. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, hidden from her view. I hated her. God, I hated her so much, every word, every glance, every sick game she played.
Her weight pressed down on me as she climbed onto my lap, her thighs clamping around my hips with a possessive grip.
I felt the damp heat of her arousal brushing against my limp cock, the contact unwanted and invasive. "Speaking of sucking clit, Mommy's feeling a bit horny... so pent up..." she purred, her voice dripping with a sick sort of need as she straddled me tighter.
"Don't resist..." she whispered, her hand snaking down to wrap around my shaft. Her fingers moved with practiced intent, stroking me with a rhythm that was more mechanical than sensual.
I turned my head to the side, staring at the dull wall, refusing to let her see any flicker of emotion on my face. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.
It didn't take long—seconds, really—before my body betrayed me, hardening under her touch despite my disgust.
"Most boys need a bunch of foreplay... I really struck gold, didn't I..." she taunted, her tone mocking as she rubbed the tip of my cock against her slick entrance. A low moan escaped her lips as she teased herself with it, dragging it along her folds. "Fuck, finally I'll be able to test this dick out..."
Then she sank down, taking me in completely with one slow, deliberate motion.
I braced myself for something—anything—but there was nothing. No warmth, no tightness, just a dull, empty sensation. Her pussy felt like nothing, bland and lifeless, almost uncomfortable.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound, not wanting to give her even a hint of reaction. Fucking hell, this was worse than I'd imagined.
I lay there, motionless, my body a tool for her to use as she rocked her hips against me, chasing her own pleasure.
Her breathing grew ragged, punctuated by sharp gasps, but I felt detached, like I wasn't even there. "Hey... fuck~ look at me, baby..." she demanded, her hand gripping my chin with force, yanking my face toward hers.
I met her gaze with cold, empty eyes, my expression hard and unyielding. This didn't feel good. It didn't even feel neutral. It borderline hurt, a raw irritation that made my skin crawl.
"This is a real woman's cunt... fucking take it!" she growled, her voice rough as she punctuated each word with a thrust, grinding down harder as if that would make me feel something.
Her movements were desperate, almost angry, but I stayed silent, my lips pressed into a thin line. I wouldn't give her words, moans, or any sign of life. I just lay there, letting her rut against me, my mind as far from this moment as I could force it to be.
Her body shuddered above me as she slammed down with one final, brutal thrust, her hips jarring against mine in a way that sent a sharp jolt of pain through my bones.
"Oh shit! This dick is nice! Fuck! Gonna... cum!" she gasped, her voice breaking into a desperate cry.
Her nails clawed into my shoulders, digging deep enough to make me grunt, the sting biting into my skin as I clenched my jaw to keep from wincing.
"My... god! This dick is so good..." she panted, her body trembling like she was vibrating from the aftershocks. Her hair fell in a messy curtain around my face, tickling my skin as she hovered over me, staring down with glazed, satisfied eyes.
I waited for something—anything—to change, hoping her climax might shift the dull, empty feeling inside her. But there was nothing. No warmth, no grip, just the same lifeless sensation that made my stomach turn.
"I don't think I've ever cum harder than that before..." she sighed, her voice dripping with contentment as she rolled her hips lazily, dragging out the last of her pleasure. Her breath was hot against my cheek, her gaze heavy as she searched my face for a reaction. "That shit felt good, didn't it?" she asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.
I turned my head away, staring at the cracked paint on the wall, trying to disconnect from the moment.
"Hey. Look at me," she snapped, her fingers gripping my chin with a rough jerk, forcing my eyes back to hers. "Yeah... I guess," I muttered, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.
Worst sex ever, if you could even call it that, hands down—more like a chore than anything else, a grinding slog of discomfort and irritation.
"One... more time," she purred, her tone insistent as she shifted her weight, already starting to move again.
I let out a heavy sigh, rolling my eyes as I met her stare, my expression blank, like I was looking through her to some empty void on the other side. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, but I felt nothing but dread weighing in my chest.
This was gonna be a long, miserable night.