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Authors: Alaska Angelini

BLAKE: Captive to the Dark

BOOK: BLAKE: Captive to the Dark
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Blake

Captive to the Dark

Alaska Angelini

BLAKE

Captive to the Dark

Alaska Angelini

Copyright © 2014
by Alaska Angelini

 

ISBN
:
9781938076336

 

All Rights Reserved

 

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

 

To Ally, Mai, Terri, Monica, and Alissa. You girls are the best! Also, to all the readers. Thank you so much for giving my stories a chance. I hope you enjoy.

 

Prologue

 

Kaitlyn

 

Whack!
The crippling sting of the whip sliced into my back, making my legs lock up. Tears had dried a long time ago. The sob that emerged was nothing more than an involuntary reaction from my body to the pain I’d numbed my mind to. The dark, damp room looming around me had disappeared after the fifth or sixth strike. The smell of mold…only a distant memory. Even the cold that had initially made my teeth chatter faded away long ago.

Unconsciousness beckoned and I flirted along the edge, waiting for my brain to shut off completely and take away the reality of my situation. Had anyone said that at the age of twenty-four I would become a victim of sex trafficking, I wouldn’t have believed them. After all, I was Kaitlyn Summers, cover model. I had contracts with a high end make-up line, not to mention I was on billboards and magazines abroad. That hadn’t mattered. Nothing had. It didn’t take me long to see I was no one special. All the fake ideals I had to live up to didn’t matter here. In the trafficking world, I was just another girl. Another body to use any way my buyer saw fit. That asshole had paid a pretty penny to have me.
Something he reminded me of, constantly. Apparently, I broke him financially. Given the way he lived, I had no doubt that was true. But, he had plans to do some breaking of his own.

My appearance had been his prize, one he wanted to strip me of.
He hated my face. Everything about me. He was taking his time ruining me, but it could have been worse. Sex didn’t interest him. For that, I was thankful. I might have completely died inside if I had to endure it all.

From the beginning
, my looks had been nothing but a curse. Friends were hard to come by. Most didn’t trust me around their boyfriends, not that I gave them reason, and others viewed me as competition. Little did they know, I didn’t care for men. Not really. Yes, I found them attractive. And, someday, if I came across the right one, I’d invest my time. But, part of my curse was my past. Good looks, after all, were a magnet to predators. I’d seen my fair share of molesters in my youth, all related to me in one way or another. Not to mention assholes who flocked out of the woodwork like termites, eating me alive. My focus the last few years had been on modeling. A career that was now over. No one was going to want my now scarred face on a cover.

Whack!
Black dots spotted my vision and rage seared my insides, no doubt adrenaline induced. I wanted this over, no matter how much more pain it might involve. The darkness of unconsciousness called and I was ready to give myself over to it. Once, I had lived for the pain of a flogger, a crop…hell, even the occasional whip. But, not this way. Not as abuse.

My toes pushed against the cold, concrete floor and I used my last bit of strength to jerk against the cuffs wildly. “Is that all you
’ve fucking got, motherfucker?” The scream that left me was a mix between a growl and some animalistic warning. If I ever got free, I’d kill this shitbag excuse for a human being. I may have never seen his face, but his voice was one that haunted my never ending nightmares.

“I do like you, zvezda moya.”
My star
. “Such passion in you. You’ll last for a while, which makes me happy.” The Russian accent was thick and it purred behind me. My flesh crawled, making the nausea worse. This was the third time I’d been in the basement. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been with this man, but I was guessing a month, at least. The torture only came when he wanted, but it was bad enough that by the time I healed, it was time to go again. The other two girls who resided here didn’t have to endure this. They were the pure definition of sex slaves for the other two Masters who lived in the house. If they got beaten, I never noticed any marks. Of course, we rarely got to see each other for long.

Whack!
Like an explosion of fire from my shoulder blade to the opposite side of my hip, the pain that flared was too much. My gasp echoed in my ears, almost sounding too loud to bear. Pain jolted as my arms took on the entirety of my weight and I swung to the front, only to spin to the side. The white cement wall rippled in front of me and I blinked hard, not caring that it didn’t come back into focus. Heaviness from being weak had me lowering my head. I longed for an escape from this place. Time seemed to slow as my lids lowered and the darkness sucked me in. I gave myself over gladly, praying I never woke up.

 

Chapter 1

Blake

 

The agenda was simple. Get Marie Sinclair out of that house and bring her home. The seventeen year old
Texas native had been missing for almost six months. The cops were clueless, chalking it up to her being a runaway. I knew better. Her parents hadn’t come to me, I went to them. It was clear after viewing the case that she’d been a victim of trafficking. The crime was my specialty. I knew after a month went by without any leads, she’d been taken by the same cartel that was rounding up girls left and right in the state.

Locating their headquarters in
Mexico had been impossible. No matter how hard I tried, the moment I got close, they’d move. That didn’t stop me from gathering information. One thing stood out about my girl that would make her easy to identify. The quarter-sized flower tattooed on the inside of her wrist. A white daisy with bright blue edges. That one mark had led me to Russia, but not easily. Only on the brink of death did the information come spilling out, right along with the trafficker’s insides. Fucking piece of shit.

A former detective, it
had taken the disappearance of my best friend’s daughter to show me the path I was meant for. The light that turned on inside of me was like being awakened for the first time in my life. With it, came the bloodlust I’d tried to bury. It was a hell of a mixer, and one twisted ass cocktail that I drank down like an addict.

Natalie made it home to her father, my former partner, and in my wake
, I’d left the city of Progreso, Mexico in a fucking inferno. That was four years ago. Since, I’d uncovered eight more girls. Avenging them was my pleasure. Seeing them back with their loved ones, my passion. And soon, Marie would make it home. I just had to get to her. That part would come easily enough, but I dreaded the initial meeting. Seeing the girls in their condition was hard to stomach. No one but me got to experience them at their worst. It made the bloodbath much easier to walk away from. Not that I really had a problem with it to begin with.

Snow was thick around me, but
I felt anything but cold. The pounding of my heart accompanied with the excitement of the impending battle had sweat soaking through the thick, black, wool sweater I wore. Small puffs of frozen breath left my mouth as I stared through the binoculars toward the two story hovel my girl was in.

For three days I watched, taking in who came and went from the house. Three men. Not a problem. Two were there now. The third seemed to
come and go as he pleased. All were armed, but that wasn’t uncommon for the area. Conditions were crowded in the surrounding town, but out here, it was more rural, making my job even easier. If I had to use my gun, it was likely no one would hear it. But I had a more personal revenge in mind for these motherfuckers. The large knife that rested at my hip would do the job. In beast mode, my blade was the equivalent to an artist’s paint brush. The crimson the serrated edge produced would paint the walls and floor like a timeless masterpiece. My own fucking Picasso representing protection and deliverance.

My name was getting around in the trafficking world. Especially since I left my signature on the walls for all to see
.
BLAK
E
. A threat for others to know I was coming. They needed to be afraid. If they weren’t, they were in for a surprise. I may not have gotten them this time, but who was to say my next girl wouldn’t be under their roof? It was imperative that they knew who I was. To be prepared. Maybe I was getting stupid over the years, but I craved a challenge and hoped my recklessness didn’t go unnoticed.

The gloomy, grey sky grew darker as the minutes flew by
, until nothing was visible but the light coming from the top window. Movement was nonexistent from what I could see. I glanced at my watch. What better time than now? My cover would be hidden and I was growing impatient.

Snow crunched under my feet as I swung wide, staying low. A dog barked somewhere
in the distance as I came to a standstill next to the side of the house. Blinds hung low, leaving only the smallest opening to look through. The view wasn’t very good, but the outlining shadow of a couch and what appeared to be a table became clear. A dark backdrop of wood paneling lined the walls. No one was downstairs from what I could see. I reached up and applied pressure to the glass. The grip on my gloves didn’t move the surface at all as I pushed upward. Fuck. It was locked. I raced toward the back, stopping at the next window on the side.
Locked.

The moon didn’t reveal anything in the immediate surroundings. Not even a tree. There was no sort of cover if I needed to take it. With each footprint
, I could feel myself tense even more. The back door was nothing but thick metal. From the outside, the house looked abandoned, but the doors were top of the line. I tried to ease the knob over. No luck. There were bound to be deadbolts, so picking it was out of the question. This wasn’t going to work.

The next window wasn’t any different.
Fuck. I’m going to have to break the glass. So much for being a surprise.
I stopped at the last window, shocked when it eased up with slight effort. The rush that thrummed inside me multiplied a hundred times over. I pulled out my Glock and opened it the rest of the way. My entry was absolutely silent. I’d practiced enough over the years. If I wasn’t rescuing slaves, I was working out and staying on top of my skills. It was crucial in my field.

  The smell of mold engulfed my senses as I pushed the window back down. I hadn’t expected it on the main floor. Underground, yes
. But, here, it nearly took my breath away. Boxes were piled in the corner, yet the rest of the room was empty with the exception of a sheet covered sofa.

Sounds of voices had me pausing at the cracked door.  Russian dialect drifted from what felt like upstairs. I m
ay have known three languages, but Russian wasn’t one of them. Not that I needed a translator to figure out that someone was pissed. My gun rose to chest level while pounding erupted overhead.
The stairs.
I leaned forward, taking a peek out of the door. A long hallway gave view to the entry way. Again, I stole a glance, catching the moment the light was turned on and a man bounded around the corner.

“I’ll be in the basement getting it set up for Star. Let Andon know when he gets back. He’s ready for round two
, says she didn’t get enough the first time.”

A laugh was the only response. Anger erupted inside at their words. So they could speak English. And pretty fucking well. I could hardly pick up an accent at all.

The door swung open, creaking loudly. Well, that was going to be a problem when I decided to go after that one. The man’s words came back to me.
Star.
Was that Marie? Was he going to hurt her now? Not if I had anything to about it. The door groaned as it began closing. I didn’t think, I ran for it. Screams from above halted me in my tracks. My mind battled with which way to head. If I didn’t go into the basement now, I might not have surprise on my side next time, and I had no idea if that man had a gun. But if the one screaming was my girl, I needed to go up there and make sure she was okay. It was imperative that she was good enough to make it out of here on her own two feet. We had quite the walk back to the car.

The door closed, deciding for me. Fuck, I needed to hurry. If the third guy, Andon, came back, I was screwed. No doubt, he wasn’t going to take kindly to a stranger toting a gun in his hallway. Especially with a sex slave upstairs.

“Get off me.” The female’s voice sounded soft, weak. My foot connected with the first step and I clenched my jaw at the groan the old wood made. The sounds of a fleshy smack had my rage surging. The sobbing cry that followed told me he’d probably used his fist. That bastard was so dead. I slid the gun against the small of my back. Now, to find a way up.

My hand gripped the banister, pulling against the thick wood. It looked sturdy enough
. I prayed it was. The narrow space allowed me to apply most of my weight against the wall while holding onto the rail. Taking three steps up at a time, barely any noise came from beneath my feet.

“Down, bitch. You know the rules. I’m the
Master. You listen to me.”

American.
There was no doubt in my mind. What were these three men doing together? One spoke both Russian and English perfectly. I couldn’t tell which one was his primary language. Now this man… something wasn’t right here.

“I want to go home. Please.” The begging had me unsheathing my knife. The eight inch serrated blade was going to fulfill her wishes. She’d go home. I’d make sure of it.

Five more steps stood in my path and I swung up, gently planting my feet. As I stood, the sound of a key pushed through the front door. Fuck. This was not going my way. A bedroom stood off to the left and I slid inside, shutting the door. Muffled moaning had me spinning around.

“Oh shit.” My words were whispered, but even that shouldn’t have escaped. The sight of the dark-haired beauty restrained to
the bed was almost my undoing. To say I didn’t know who she was would have been a lie. Kaitlyn Summers had been all over the news for the last month. But this skinny, beaten…cut up... I couldn’t breathe past the soul sucking rage. Never had I reacted in such a way to a slave before, and I’d seen my fair share of abused captives. What was it about her that triggered me? The modeling pictures they’d played all over the mainstream media? I’d seen her before and now, like this? Was that why?

Another moan left her as she lifted her head. One of her eyes was slightly swollen. The laceration on her cheek was bright pink, no doubt on the verge of getting infected, if not already. My eyes traveled to the other side of her face where the scar was. It started right by her earlobe and
slashed diagonally toward her nose, stopping an inch short. Fucking bastard. The line wasn’t thick, but enough so that she’d carry the mark forever. Not that she’d want to go back into modeling after this. Most girls had a hard time returning to normal.

“Quiet.” One word. That was all I had to say to have her nodding her head, a spark of intelligence lighting her face despite her condition. Well, that was surprising. Most girls would have screamed for me to help them, too panicked and irrational to think past the smallest chance at freedom.

Footsteps stomped up the stairs, followed by the exchange of shouted conversation. I pushed to the back of the closet, lowering. Clothes were thickly piled together, giving me excellent coverage. I pulled the door more closed and moved behind it to hide in the shadows. The musky smell had me taking slow breaths. Shit, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Now, with an extra girl. One with no family that I could remember being mentioned in the media coverage. Well, she was sure to have plenty of friends. She’d been a model, after all. Men were probably burning candles outside her place by the masses.

“It’s time, zvezda moya.”
My star
. “Enrique has your room all set up and ready for you.

A black mask covered the man’s face as he walked toward the bed. I leaned over, watching. Waiting.

“Are you ready to follow orders like we’ve been working on?”

Squeaking came from the bed as he sat down on the edge and ran his finger over the scar. Pain zigzagged along my jaw at the pressure of my teeth grinding together. The beast inside swirled, searching for a way out. Patience used to be one of my virtues. At the moment, all I felt compelled to do was burst from this closet and
cut off his hand for touching her. Then, I’d really show him what my blade was capable of.

A
sound of agreement came from Kaitlyn, moving the man into motion.

“I’m going to undo the restraints. I’ll give you a few minutes to adjust, then you’re going to stand on your spot and kneel. If you fight me again, you’re going to be sorry. Is that understood?” The gentle caress from the back of his fingers had me
squeezing the handle of the knife even harder.
Come on, Kaitlyn. Give me something to work with.
If I was going to take out the other two men, I needed this killing to be fast and silent.

A sound came from her mouth as he pulled out the foul rag. “Thank you,
Master,” she whispered. That word…coming from her…directed at him. Fuck. No. My weight rocked against the balls of my feet. I was so ready to end this. To stab my knife right though his ear and try to erase the bastard from ever hearing her address him that way.

Shaking took over my body
that was purely adrenaline induced. Also new for me.

“I’m proud of you.” The last shackle clinked against the metal frame and he stood. “Now
, take your position, Star. Show me you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Ahh.” A sob escaped her as the sheet peeled away from her back. She gagged as she pushed herself to stand on shaky legs. As the bright blue
of her eyes connected with mine, time completely stopped. Kaitlyn started walking right toward me. The floor could have given out beneath me and I would have only known because of our severed connection. What we share was so intense that I felt it brand me soul deep. My heart raced even faster. Someone could have stabbed me in the back and it wouldn’t have infiltrated the depths that the slave had just touched. I hadn’t even known the place existed and, somehow, she’d discovered it within the smallest fraction of a moment.

BOOK: BLAKE: Captive to the Dark
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