Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Even though she offered some semblance of motherly love, it didn’t help. I was still tortured by what I’d witnessed. I broke long before the day she said goodbye to us. My father and his organization have different ideas about what kids are for, and I was shoved into the life long before I even knew what any of it meant.
I always tried to protect my brother from it, but before long, he was taught we can never have a normal life. We’d always be the broken boys. The darkness in our souls will eventually completely take over, and we’d be just like him.
Just like the monster who made us.
Just like Malcolm Savage.
CHAPTER TWO
CAIA
I shift.
I can’t move without my muscles protesting.
They’re angry and rabid.
There’s a burning sensation that seems to be coursing through my veins, in every part of me. I feel as if I’m on fire. But when I’m still, the scorching heat isn’t there. So, I lie there, my eyes closed. Heavy from something I’d been given, I can only guess.
I can’t recall what happened. My head is filled with a foggy reel of blurry images. I can’t pick them apart, and I can’t remember where I was or even who was there. I think it was a birthday party. The girls from school, those whom I called my friends, told me to go along for the ride. And I did. For the first time in my life, I broke my father’s rules. They weren’t really friends, but they were the popular girls, and I wanted to experience what it was like in their world.
Being the daughter of a well-known multi-billionaire, I’ve always been kept within the confines of my father’s rules and regulations. His face is always plastered in the newspapers. His name is mentioned online more times than I can count.
I’m meant to keep myself on the straight and narrow. Nobody would know I’ve smoked a joint. And I enjoyed it. No one would ever guess I’ve kissed a boy. And tonight — at least, I think it’s tonight — I was meant to have sex.
My first time.
There’s an icy ache in my limbs causing tears to sting behind my lids. I don’t know where I am, but when I finally crack my eyes open, I can’t see anything in front of me, only darkness. There aren’t even shadows to promise me a sliver of light in the space I’m in. Perhaps I’m locked in a box.
My fingertips trail along my arm, and I feel blood — at least, what I would guess is blood — dried and cracked on my skin. When I woke up moments ago, the cold was so harsh it caused my teeth to chatter loudly. I try to move again, to roll over, but it’s pointless.
My body is rigid, almost paralyzed.
It’s cold. Bitterly cold. It’s as if I’ve been left in a freezer without any clothes or blankets to stifle the temperature. My arms prickle, as if a thousand pins are being shot into my flesh at resounding speed. I blink. The tears that burn my eyes dry before they reach my ears. I’m on my back, looking up into blackness so thick it threatens to choke me.
A click echoes in my ears like a foghorn warning a passing ship. A clank. The scrape of steel on the cement floor, or what I’m guessing is concrete.
“There she is.” A deep rumble comes from somewhere in the darkness. I expect my visitor to say something more, but he doesn’t. Silence falls around me again, enveloping me in its stifling madness. No words, not even a scuff of a shoe. Another switch clicks, and I’m bathed in a faded-yellow, luminescent glow.
“Wh-what am I do-doing here?” I croak, my throat protesting at the measly utterance. Five whole words voiced from my lips, and they sound like sandpaper grating against wood.
Raspy. Harsh.
I blink. Once. Twice. When my vision finally clears, I’m met with the steel-gray glare of a man I’ve never seen before. He’s older, far older than I am at my eighteen years. He may even be as old as my father. His hair is silver, matching his cold eyes. There’s a dusting of stubble on his face. It’s dark, yet there’s gray streaks through it as well, hinting that he must be in his early forties, perhaps even older.
He has a smirk on his face, evil, almost devilish. When he leans in closer, I try to make out who he is, but he’s a stranger to me. The corner of his mouth kicks up; a sneer curls his vile mouth. He looks satisfied that he has a girl, a young girl, tied up in a dungeon.
What will he do to me?
I can’t think about that right now. The only thing I need to focus on is the asshole before me.