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I spent the next few hours planning the kidnapping down to the last detail. I knew Ella's routine like the back of my hand – when she went to work, when she came home, even when she took her goddamn coffee breaks. It was sick, how obsessed I'd become with her. But she was different, and I was obsessed. Some days, I'd sit outside the diner and watch as her sweet ass jiggled underneath her uniform. How her hips swayed. Fucking perfect hips. Those red lips... ugh, my cock got hard thinking about fucking her mouth until those beautiful eyes wept.
"Fuck," I muttered as I grabbed my black bandana. "Why does it have to be you, Ella?"
But deep down, I already knew the answer. She was sunshine in a world of darkness. Something beautiful that needed to be snuffed out.
Priscilla had destroyed her life.
And I was writing her sequel.
"Fuckin' Gustov," I spat as I paced the warehouse, my boots echoing on the cold concrete floor. Sweat trickled down my back and my fists clenched, knuckles cracking with the effort to control the rage boiling inside me.
"Relax, man," Adam drawled from his chair, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. "It's not like you got a choice in this shit."
"Doesn't fuckin' mean I have to like it." I slammed my hand against a stack of crates, not noticing the cuts that formed. "Gotta make this clean, fast. No mistakes."
"Got your back, Chris," he murmured, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Just say the word."
"Don't need your help for this. Don't you have your own target?" I sighed, running a hand through my tousled hair. "I'll need the van – black, no windows. Ropes, blindfolds, gag… the usual shit."
He stubbed out his cigarette, crushing the butt under his boot. "What about the girl?"
"Already scoped her out." My voice was rough, laced with a hint of guilt. "Know her routine like the fuckin' alphabet."
"Damn, man," Adam chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Didn't know you were that into her."
"Shut the fuck up," I growled, glaring at him. It wasn't like that. Sure, she was beautiful – all sunshine and smiles and big brown eyes that could melt the iciest heart. But it was more than that. She had this… innocence, this purity that was so goddamn rare in our world of blood and betrayal. And now I was about to shatter that, all for the sake of loyalty.
"Whatever you say, man." He held up his hands in mock surrender, smirking as he sauntered away. "Preparations will be ready by tonight."
"Great. You better go. Fucker probably has some chores or some shit for you to do." My gaze drifted to the warehouse's small window, where I could see Ella walking home from work, her hair catching the late afternoon sun. T minus five hours.
"Fuck," I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the sight. "Why does it have to be you, Ella?"
"Because she's the one," a voice answered, cold and sharp. Priscilla. "She's going to make us filthy rich, Christopher. And you're going to take her for me."
Four: Ella
The night air sliced through my thin pajamas like a razor. What the hell was going on? My heart hammered against my ribcage, and my palms were sweaty. The man with the tattoos was a shadow come to life, his large hands clamping over my arms with bruising intensity.
"Let go of me!" I screamed, my voice ricocheting off the walls of the cramped hallway as he dragged me toward the open front door. Priscilla's mocking laughter followed from somewhere behind us. The bastard's black bandana obscured his face, but the hardness in his eyes spoke volumes. His soul-less gaze was deep and blue. His eyes would have been beautiful, if not for the complete void of emotion.
"Shut it, doll," he growled, his grip tightening, making my hands go numb. "You're coming with us."
"Please, you don't have to do this." Tears blurred my vision, my pleas drowned out by my own frantic breathing. I clawed at his iron-like arms, my nails scraping flesh but failing to break his hold.
"Enough!" His voice was a whip-crack in the silent night. We were outside now, the darkness hiding the tears that streamed down my cheeks.
One moment there was resistance, the next, only the oppressive blackness of the dungeon. The switch was so abrupt, my senses reeled, trying to catch up with reality. The air here was dank, thick with the scent of mold. Chains rattled in the distance. My feet stumbled on the uneven stone floor, the man's relentless pull never easing.
"Where are we?" Panic clawed up my throat, my eyes straining against the dark to make out my surroundings.
"Your new home, little ember," came his snide reply, his voice echoing against the stone walls.
"Please, I won't tell anyone—"
"Quiet!" His command ricocheted around the room, and I bit back a sob.
My thoughts scrambled through incoherence. The grim reality set in with each step deeper into the bowels of this hellish place. In the faint glow of a single bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling, I could make out the faint stains of my predecessors painted against the walls.
