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  Because I had no mercy to give.

  There was a defenseless girl locked in a closet, there was a human being trapped like a caged animal in this home. And I knew in my heart that these two men were well aware of it.

  It was sick, it was harsh and unforgiving.

  He would have killed me right there if he had the chance. I was taking his opportunity and making it mine.

  Dominick was on the ground, his face a multitude of different shades of purple. There was no air going in, and none coming out. His body gave one last violent twitch, and I knew it was over. I had seen it before only once. It was the death twitch.

  I killed him.

  That was not the first time I had ever killed a man. But it was the first time I had ever used my hands, it was the only time I felt the life as it drained out, and stared into the eyes of a dying man, wondering what the hell I was doing.

  I hadn't questioned my choice to kill before.

  That was my reality now, the touch of death had tainted my skin. I won't say I didn't feel something while his pupils dilated and his lips swelled up turning blue. . . But what I felt wasn't good, it wasn't relief, or regret, or even the slightest hint of sorrow for whatever family this man might have had.

  All I felt was a rush of adrenaline and the surge of power.

  “Come on, we got to go now.” Lunging into the closet, I snatched the gun off the floor and tucked it into my jeans. Holding out my hand, I wriggled my fingers, reaching for her.

  The girl stared at Dominick's body on the floor, her eyes gaping and glossy as tears bubbled over the surface.

  “I'm not going to hurt you, come on, take my hand.”

  Flicking her eyes up to mine, she stretched out her arm, her fingertips shaking violently. Once I felt the first sensation of her hand on mine, I gripped her with all the strength I had and pulled her to her feet.

  She was so thin, like she had been basically starved, only given the bare minimum so she was still alive. Her cheeks were sunken in, deep purple bags puffed up underneath her eyes. The poor girl was barely flesh and bone.

  I could see bruising on one of her cheeks and a large gash that was healing at the crest of her chin. And instantly I felt for her. Looking at her brought back old memories, memories of a past I didn't want, images of a life I wanted to forget.

  My heart crunched with tangy bits of anger and rage, it swelled with sympathy for what she had been put through and the pain she had endured.

  “Can you walk?” I asked, curling my hand around her thin wrist. She still wouldn't utter a word, barely nodding her head yes. “Okay, come on.”

  Starting back towards the kitchen, our feet were soundless on the floor. I wanted to run like the wind and get the hell out of there, but I didn't want to draw any attention to us.

  I kept my body in front of hers, hoping she was hidden from view. If Val was nearby, if he came around the corner and saw me, I didn't know what his reaction would be.

  If I had to fear either of the men, he was the one. With dead eyes and an emotionless voice, Val probably wouldn't think twice about cutting out my vocal cords.

  I don't care about me, it's her that I'm protecting.

  The girl's hand shook inside mine, the tremble intense, like an electric shock that had passed between us. She was petrified, like a mouse trapped in a maze, while a hungry cat was out on the loose, stalking from inside.

  The faint light from the kitchen spilled into the hallway, the arched entrance coming into view as we quietly crept towards our exit.

  My heart was beating inside my chest, pounding so hard I could hear the blood pump through my ears. Was I afraid? No, not for me.

  I was afraid for her, I was afraid of what might happen to her if we were caught.

  But I didn't let it control me, I refused to let my nerves consume me and fuck up our escape.

  I was going to get this woman out of there.

  I was going to protect her from the evil that had put her there to begin with.

  And I was willing to risk everything to do that.

  Chapter Three

  Bijou

  His hand was warm around mine, it was protective, firm, and. . . Safe.

  I had given my trust to this man, and I didn't even know his name. But I could see it in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice, I could feel it in his touch—this man, he wasn't one of them.

  I believed it the second his finger covered his lips and he hushed me silent. He had been sent to save me.

  My toes curled into the floor as I stayed tucked in his shadow, following every step he took. His foot would lift and my heel replaced it, he would inhale and I would do the same. I was a carbon copy of the man in front of me, doing my best to stay invisible.

  Flicking his head over his shoulder, he looked down on me, concern and worry flooding his expression. I wasn't sure if that look came from uncertainty of what could happen or if it was just because of me.

  Glancing around his bicep, I could see the doorway of the kitchen. My chest heaved with memories, the feeling of pain and fear washing over me as images of what Diablo had done to me flashed through my brain.

  My muscles tensed up, feet dragging behind me as I tried to slow down. I didn't do it on purpose, it was instinct. I felt my heels dig into the floor, toes clutching the ground, anxiously wanting to grab hold of anything I could.

  The man whipped his head over his shoulder, brows crinkling into the bridge of his nose, panic and desperation setting into his deep brown eyes. But he didn't stop, he jerked my arm and kept my feet moving for me.

  Thank you. I wanted to say the words out loud, but I bit my tongue. It was too dangerous to speak and I knew that.

  Dominick wasn't alone, no one was ever truly alone when they came there. But this was the first time Diablo had left me to the mercy of his men. He never left me alone with anyone.

  When he told me he was leaving, my breath hitched and I sat wide eyed, expecting him to strike me for my reaction. But he didn't.

  Smiling to myself inside my head, I was proud of how strong I had become. For feeling on the inside and hiding it on the outside. He couldn't read my thoughts anymore.

  This was my chance, this was what I had been waiting for.

  My prayers had finally been answered.

  Stopping short at the end of the hall, my body kept moving, bumping into the stranger's back and causing me to sway. His firm arm reached behind, curling around my waist and holding me steady.

  I had to fight the urge to crawl into his grasp and wrap myself around his body. Temptation to feel, breathe, and embrace the safety that this man was giving me was all I could think about.

  His touch entered me from every direction, it bled into my bones and made me warm. For the first time in months, I felt like everything was going to be alright. My mind twisted with thoughts of how this man was going to fix all of this. He was my guardian angel, that's what they do, they protect you when you need it.

  And I had needed it for a really long time.

  The man didn't look down as his hand pressed into my lower back, eyes darting back and forth, searching and scanning.

  It felt like we stood there, stagnant, as time seemed to slow down and our movements mimicked the seconds passing like molasses being poured.

  The muscle in his neck thickened as he leaned forward and twisted his head from left to right. Holding my breath, I hid in the darkness, doing my best to be as small as possible.

  One less shadow, one less exhale, one less person.

  That was how I had felt since the very beginning of all this. I had been beaten down to nothing, brainwashed into thinking that I was worthless, used as some object of trade. All of who I was had been crushed and stomped into particles that barely resembled a woman anymore.

  I had started to doubt if I'd ever get the chance to make an escape. I was drained to the point that I couldn't see the end.

  And here it was, holding me snugly in place, leading me out.

  His g
rip strengthened, dragging me into the kitchen, his feet heavy yet delicate in the same step. I was mesmerized by the command this man had in a place that wasn't his own.

  He didn't cower, he didn't shed a bead of sweat that was built off fear. This man's presence was more powerful than the whole entity of evil this home encased.

  Reaching out his arm, his fingers brushed the handle, eagerly trying to snatch it with full force. My heart raced inside my chest, beating and pounding like a prisoner, trying to burst through the metal wire of its cage.

  I watched his hand as it latched on the handle, fully expecting to meet the fresh air I had been denied for so long. My lungs were ready, taking short, quick breaths, not wanting to breathe one more atom of oxygen from inside that house.

  Click

  In reality the noise was probably barely audible, but in the silence of my head, I heard it loud and clear. The hammer of a gun had been pulled, it was cocked and being aimed in our direction.

  “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” His voice sliced its way through my ears, stabbing my brain.

  Val. . .

  I knew who he was, I knew the kind of man he was. He wasn't kind or gentle, he didn't tend to the needs of others or show compassion where it was deserved. He was sick like the rest of them.

  Diablo would take me out on occasion, taunting his men with a treat. If Diablo was in a really good mood, he'd allow them to touch and caress me so long as he was there.

  And Val, he was one man who didn't shy away from the offer.

  The man's back snapped straight, shoulders broadening and turning to stone. His head ticked over his shoulder, eyes veering in hate and rage. But he didn't say a word, he just stared with razor sharp pinpoints glaring at Val.

  “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Val stood with his legs wide, firmly holding the ground beneath his feet. His gun was aimed point blank at the stranger, eyes lifeless as usual.

  The stranger's muscles twitched, and the thick vein on his neck pulsed hard. His face changed, falling into a state of stillness. I couldn't read him, I couldn't tell if he was nervous and afraid, or if he didn't give two fucks about the gun in his face.

  “I was just leaving, and I'm taking her with me.”

  Val's finger fluttered over the trigger, a deep grimace formed on his face. “She's not going anywhere. She belongs here, she belongs to someone else.” Taking a long step into the room, his arm stayed steady in the air.

  “She belongs to me now.” Tilting his head, his jet black hair fell over his brow, tickling the tips of his lashes. “I found her, so I'm keeping her.”

  “Do you have any idea who you're fucking with?” Val asked, an evil grin spreading across his face. “My boss won't like this very much, he won't like it all. So I'm going to make this really easy on you, I'm going to kill you.”

  My angel wrapped his arm around my waist, pushing me behind his back as he turned to face Val head on. “I don't give a fuck who you are, or about your boss. The one thing I do know. . .” Pausing, my savior curled his fingers deeper into my skin, holding me firmly against his back. “You're not going to kill me, and you're not getting her back.”

  Val took another long step, cupping the butt of his gun with his other hand. “If I don't kill you now, you'll regret it. My boss—he's not as nice as me. Ask her, ask her what he'll do to you.”

  Gritting his teeth, the man with black hair chuckled. “Look, I'm going to be straight forward with you. Either put a bullet in my head right now or turn around and walk away.”

  “I need you to move away from her. You can die, but she can't.”

  “Is that right?” The man blocked me completely, his wide shoulders and thick arms hiding me behind his back. “You're that bad of a shot?”

  “Fuck you.” Val's eyes turned to slits as he bared his teeth. “I could care less about that cunt. If it was up to me she'd be dead already. She's only good for one thing, and even that isn't very good.”

  I could feel my insides as they bubbled, coming to life with all the feelings I had buried. Anger, hate, rage—pure and unfiltered emotions that I kept stowed away. They had broken free of their box, all of them coalescing in my gut like a giant tornado.

  A sheen of metallic caught my my eye as the man shifted on his heels. Dom's gun, he has his gun.

  It was as if some one else was controlling me, like strings were hanging from my arms and someone was hovering above me, working my muscles. I was looking at myself from the outside, watching from a distance as I let my body take over and my brain step away for a moment.

  Stepping out from behind the stranger, I bared my teeth. “Fuck you, Val.”

  “Excuse me?” His jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding down hard. “Bitch you know better.”

  I didn't say another word, lifting my arm, I held the gun in my hand and pulled the trigger. A bright flash lit up the room and my ears rang from the explosion.

  My head was spinning as I took in labored breaths, ready to scream, ready to cry, ready to drop to the ground as my legs gave out beneath me.

  Too much of my time had been taken up with thoughts of this moment. Of the moment I was finally able to be freed of the torturous pain this place had caused me. Of the men who had taken from me by the approval of another, of the man who created all of this in the first place. It was done, I was done—no more.

  I felt my knees weaken, but the floor never came. In one quick swoop, the stranger grabbed me by my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I didn't know if I killed Val, I didn't see where he was hit or know if we were leaving him to bleed out on the floor.

  In the emotional confusion of it all, I had closed my eyes.

  I felt the cold air on my face and the crisp oxygen as it filled my lungs. I heard the sound of my savior's feet as they slammed over the pavement and softened as they met the grass.

  Everything happened so quick, I had no time to process it.

  Before I knew it, the man was shutting a car door and an engine roared to life.

  I was out. I was free.

  But this, this wasn't over.

  And no matter how much I wanted it to be, the damage had been done.

  For now, this small victory meant everything.

  Chapter Four

  Bijou

  I watched him as we drove. He didn't look at me, his face was set out the windshield, jaw clenched. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

  What is he going to do with me?

  As much as I saw him as my savior, a huge part of my conscience mind was trying to figure out what he planned to do with me. It had been embedded into the darkest reaches of my brain, I was nothing more than a piece of property.

  Is he my new owner?

  Damn it! My brain is fucked.

  Too much time had been spent controlled my another human being, my life hadn't been my own for over two years. Now I was here, with another man, a man who had come in and rescued me—but that didn't mean he was a good man, that didn't mean I had actually been saved.

  I knew nothing about him. And in a flash, I was back in that house all over again. Trapped in the hands of another, nowhere to go, no place to hide. Instinctively, I curled my legs into my chest and nervously played with the belt crossing my lap.

  There was this sense of loss consuming me as my insides rumbled with nerves and my stomach twisted and coiled into knots.

  He said he wasn't going to hurt me. . .

  But that could mean anything.

  Diablo had said a lot of things, none of them were true. He had made me promises that I could call home, he had promised me full meals and going outside to feel the sun on my face.

  None of that ever happened.

  Watching the man cautiously, a small flicker of warmth ignited in my belly. He was a handsome man, not someone I would picture as being malicious. His eyes weren't dull, his expressions looked real and sincere.

  Jet black hair covered his head, tousled in the front like he had just woken up. His skin was
smooth, his jaw hard and cut with sharp lines.

  My heart beat a little faster as he shifted in his seat and the thick muscle of his neck tensed, glistening with sweat in the light as the moon slipped around to his side of the vehicle.

  The thin panties I had on grew hot and wet as I stared up at the unknown creature beside me. I wanted to believe he was good, that he was sent to me by some act of kindness I hadn't known existed.

  I knew he could feel me watching him. A nervous energy floated around him as his back stiffened and his arms locked straight. Running his hand through his hair, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching white.

  He was twisting both hands back and forth, and I could see the veins under the skin as they pulsed. His eyes twitched to look down on me, but he never did, he just stared out the window.

  Suddenly, he jerked his arm in my direction, and I reacted without even thinking about it. Jumping back, I buried my head into my knees and cowered. I waited, I tensed up expecting to feel his fist against my body. It never came.

  Picking up my head, I peeked up. The man looked down on me, lips pursed up tight.

  Eyeing me from the corner of his gaze, he pushed on the radio and raised the volume so it was barely above a whisper. My breathing became heavy and thick as my body untied itself and tried to relax once I realized his hand wasn't lashing out to hit me.

  Muscle memory was a bitch. How many more times would my body react defensively when it didn't need to?

  I was a stranger to the outside world, to the normalcy of movements, to the natural flow of another.

  Parting my lips, I wanted to say so many things to him, but nothing came out. I didn't know where the hell to begin.

  Thank you is a start. Thank you for saving my life, I owe you everything, that's a better way to go.

  My throat felt dry and scratchy as my tongue attempted to formulate words. Swallowing hard, I opened my mouth again to speak, and still nothing came out.

  What do you say to a man who came in and blew down the walls that had held you for so long?