Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“He wants to see you,” Cyclone told her.
The biker hauled her to her feet and dragged her to the door. Once out in the hallway, his sneering expression softened as he stared at her lower half. Shuddering inside, Angel followed the path of his gaze and winced. Her crotch and down the inside of her jeans were saturated with dark blood.
She died inside of embarrassment as Cyclone manhandled her through the hallways past leering men who catcalled comments on her condition. When Angel finally stood in front of Viper, the jerk laughed with gusto as if her menstrual cycle was the best joke ever made. He pulled out his camera and took a picture of her shrinking body.
“Stand up, rich bitch!” he demanded.
Cyclone shook her arm and yanked her elbow higher, forcing her to straighten. Viper snapped another shot before yelling at Cyclone to turn her around for a rear view. She had no doubt he’d captured more degrading photos.
“Not too appealing now, are you, Angel? I bet your rich friends wouldn’t recognize you. Maybe I should drop you off in the center of that fancy shopping area you like to visit? That would change everyone’s mind about how special you are. Just a stank bitch.”
Angel didn’t answer. She kept her hopes from jumping sky-high at the possibility that he’d release her. Even the Zona Blanca, with its elitist clientele and the social media shaming that would follow any photos people posted if she was dropped off there like this, would be better than staying trapped here. Socialites wouldn’t kill her—at least not if they had to actually touch her in this condition.
When she didn’t answer, he got in her face, glaring at her with hatred. The violence etched in his features petrified her. What had she or her family done to deserve this? Her dad was an astute businessman, but Angel wasn’t aware of anyone he’d deliberately taken advantage of or mistreated. Bert Daniels approached everyone with immaculate manners.
When she didn’t react, Viper snarled, “Lock the nasty bitch in her room. I don’t want her mess to attract any vermin here. Give her some pads. Don’t let her waste supplies. Make her beg for each one.”
Cyclone nodded and pulled Angel from the room. She kept her face turned toward the floor as she returned through the gauntlet of jeers. She didn’t want anyone to see the tears filling her eyes. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction.
This time, she welcomed the darkness when he locked her inside. She felt her way to the corner and sat down with her back against the wall. Dropping her head on her knees, she cried silent sobs of humiliation and despair. Maybe her father wouldn’t save her after all.
Whenever Cyclone returned to her room, Angel pushed away from the wall and knelt in the ring of light from the open door. She deliberately used the word Viper had demanded. “Please. Please let me have a pad, Cyclone. I’m begging you on my knees.”
“Here. Let me know if you need more,” he told her in a strangely tight voice as he thrust a filled sack at her.
“You brought me several?” she asked in disbelief as she accepted the stuffed bag.
“Tell me when you’re out,” he said and slammed the door shut. Something or someone had changed his mind.
Time passed slowly. Angel tried everything she could imagine to occupy her mind. She ran multiplication tables in her head, recited the capitals of the states, plotted out fantasy vacations in her mind, and made a grocery list of the foods she planned on eating when she got out of there and tried to never think about anything to drink.
When Cyclone came to visit next, his attitude toward her had changed. He left water and food for her to eat. His earlier habit of tossing half on the ground for her to salvage from the dirt vanished. Angel hoped she might have an ally to help her escape.
A loud commotion shook Angel from drowsing in her corner. Listening intently, she pinpointed the location to be coming from the right. Cursing herself for not memorizing the hallways when they’d paraded her through the building, Angel ran to the door, straining to hear better. Violent shouts resounded from both directions.
“Razor!” an urgent voice yelled from nearby. Almost silent thuds followed metallic pings as cursing filled the hallway.
Are those bullets? Angel raced from the door and flattened herself in the far corner.
She sniffed, smelling a burning scent. Something was on fire. Please don’t let me be burned alive in this hellhole. Angel wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think. She’d never found a way to get out. If the fire reached the door, she would die.
“Hey! Woman who’s kidnapped. Help me find you. Where are you?”
The man’s shouts pulled her from the corner. Angel yelled, but her voice was weak from a lack of water and use. She pounded on the door with all her might. If she broke the bones in her hand, the injury wouldn’t matter if she died.