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I do not want to go down there.
That’s when I see the bulge in his pants, and from the shape and position, it’s definitely a gun.
I almost burst into hysterical laughter.
He smiles and motions me to him. “Only the chosen few, a very special few, get to see the collection. Even fewer get to be part of it.”
I follow him to the top of the stairs. A part of me wants a glimpse. The rest is ready to run and work my escape out when I get the chance. Maybe my phone? I take a small, clumsy step back when he grabs me and pushes me. I tumble down the handful of stairs, landing on my hands and knees.
He puts his foot on my back and presses down. Hard. “No, stay there, pretty thing. The drugs should work soon. You had them before, when they took you for me. And helped you pose so prettily for those photos. Such a beautiful body. Can’t wait to sample it.”
Trent lifts his foot and crouches next to me, and it takes everything I am not to fight him. I move sluggishly, like that zombie drug’s taking effect.
If I’m going to get out, then I have to take him by surprise.
“What…” I push it out, make the word sound clumsy, and he just laughs.
“Soon you won’t be able to move or speak. Poor dumb slut. Lucky you’re pretty. Here, I’ll help you.” He grabs my hair, hauls my head up, and twists it around so I can see him. His expression turns vicious. “I wanted you first; you were on my fucking island, and I had to attend last-minute business, and what do you do? You couldn’t fucking wait. You chose him, went with him.”
“I…”
“Shut up!” He grips harder, and the pain burns searing hot down the back of my skull. “Then this fuck Jaxson got sick of you, and you got scared because you thought he kidnapped you? You thought he was smarter than me?”
“No, Trent?—”
“I said shut up!” He shakes me, and the pain ricochets harder. “I figured you had a few more brain cells than you do. Enough to see my brilliance. Enough to work out how much I wanted you. Yet you chose someone else. Thought he took you. Fucking idiot, doing that. I’m going to have to punish you.”
“Made… mistake… sorry.” I push out the words as he shakes me, and it’s hard to be limp, thick-voiced. But I can’t escape. Not until he lets me up.
“You’re special,” he says, crooning almost lovingly, “but you need to earn your place to be here.” His smile turns nasty. “And I think I’ll start with forcing my cock down your throat. I know CPR, so if I accidentally choke the life out of you with my dick, I’ll bring you back.”
Trent lets me go, shoving me viciously down as he rises and moves just out of my line of sight. The blood pounds hard in my veins. I search, hoping to find something I can use for a weapon in the entrance of his collection. But all I see is a chair and rug to one side, the open door that leads to the display cases. I’m too far away to see what’s inside, though, not that I can break into any of them.
The armchair is fat, big, and leather. And it sits on the rug. He probably masturbates on that seat before he gloats at whatever lies beyond.
I swallow hard.
Or if he’s talking about me being part of it… is it where he has captives suck him off?
And what happens to them when he’s done?
But I can’t let the fear overwhelm me. Not over what might happen here, not over the lack of a weapon.
“You get to star in your own movie, Dakota.”
Panic hits again and my stomach turns. I risk a look. He’s fiddling with a camera on a tripod. I can’t wait. I surge up, ignoring the pain from the fall, from his grabbing and twisting my head, and go for the stairs. I half run, banging my shins and knees, hauling myself up each step as I stumble.
I’m there, I’m almost?—
“Ow!”
I land on the second from the top stair as he grabs my leg and claws it. I turn and kick.
“Get off me!” I kick again.
Trent grabs me by the shoe.
“You’re mine, bitch.” He drags me, and I hit two stairs with my chin before I manage to grab the banister, twist, and kick free. “I’ve got a pedestal with your name on it, cunt. For when I’m really done with you.”
