Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Leave, Alyona.
Go home to your family.
But what if it’s true and Z has family here?
I head down into the basement maze where Yuri keeps his prison-like quarters, keeping my head bowed. There are whispers among the workers about Yuri having had a heart attack, already, which means no one pays me any attention.
I've always been aware of the nature of business our fathers were involved in but growing up in an environment where this sort of thing is normal, it doesn't fully register just how disturbing it is until you step away from it and then find yourself back here.
I pass both women and men, some locked in prison-like cells, in different states of health and some not locked in, like they choose to be here. I eventually find a dark cell separated from the others and inside is a man shackled to a table, face down. He’s naked, and spread-eagled. He’s clean with medical equipment set up beside him, a drip with what looks like fluids and a feeding tube that I can reach out and touch. What the actual horror fucking show is this?
“It’s not supposed to be today. It’s not the first of the month. Did Andru change the date?” someone asks from behind me in our native tongue, switching on a light within the cell.
Andru. The twin’s father.
“No.” I shake my head and keep my voice steady.
“Are you the new girl? You shouldn’t be down this far,” he says, his voice low and cautious as he reaches out to gently grasp my shoulder, turning me to face him.
“I know, but I was just curious about what lies in these shadows,” I reply, giving him a playful smile while batting my lashes, hoping to ease the tension.
He takes me in, his eyes sweeping over my outfit and demeanor, and a small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Most women would run screaming from this place,” he remarks, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“I’m not like most women,” I say defiantly, my tone confident. My boldness seems to intrigue him, and his grin widens, lighting up his features. He then gestures toward the man behind the bars of the cell, drawing my attention to the grim show. I grip the bars as if to get a better look.
“He refused to eat over a decade ago, so this is how they keep him alive,” he explains in a low, gravelly voice, his eyes narrowing as he glances at the dimly lit cell. “Didn’t help that they removed his tongue,” he adds and then leans into me to chuckle, “and his cock.”
Over a decade?
“Who is he?” I ask, knowing full well that asking questions is risky. I tighten my grip on the cold metal bars, trying to sound more eager than disgusted.
He steps closer, pressing his weight into mine from behind and breathing against my ear. “Someone who crossed powerful people.”
“What happens on the first of the month?” I breathe, pushing my ass back against his thickening cock. I don’t mind playing the game to get answers.
Groaning, he slips his hand around my waist, grinding into me before cool air replaces the heat of his body. He takes a couple of steps to a small table beside the cell that has needles and bags for the feeding tubes and also a box sitting on top of it. He flips it open and I lower my gaze to the contents and grind my teeth. It’s a wooden shaped dildo with little stud spikes just like my Louboutin’s boots back home. I love those shoes, and now I will never be able to look at them the same. Dragging my gaze back to the man in the cell, I notice the damaged skin around his ass, years and years of scar tissue built up there.
“What did he do?” It must have been horrific to warrant this kind of torture. The hate someone must have toward him to keep him alive all this time, if you can call this living.
“Enough questions. I have to finish up a few things, but I’ll be free in a couple of hours. Come find me then, and we can finish getting to know each other. Most women hate working here but if you stick with me, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” He slaps my ass and waltzes away.
“Who are you?” I ask the prisoner as soon as the horn dog is far enough away.
Nothing.
“Do you have a brother?”
This gets a flicker of movement, ragged breaths wheezing from him. His eyes peel open, and my lungs seize.
Bright fucking blue just like my Zahkar’s.
How can this be?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zahkar
Itap the pen on the desk repeatedly, every muscle pulled taut and aching from being stiff since Alyona went off the grid sixty-six hours ago. Since it feels like my shirt is strangling me, I unbutton a couple of the buttons and blow out a breath.