Bratva Boss’s Secret Triplets by Bella King
Chapter 12
April
The ropes are so tight around me that I feel more like a piece of furniture than a human being. I can’t move, and Dean has been pacing back and forth in front of me for the entire night, rubbing his chin and muttering things to himself like a lunatic.
He must’ve lost his mind at the notion of me being with someone else, or it’s been gone for a while. I’m not sure, but I do know that my only real hope of escaping from him is Rebel. He’s supposed to come today. I just hope it’s this morning instead of in the evening.
Dean leaves the living room on occasion to get a drink, coming back quickly to make sure I haven’t gone anywhere.
It’s not like I can. He used so much rope that I can’t see my body. My knees are pulled up to my chest and my arms are wrapped behind my back. I’m sitting on the floor, just about as helpless and useless as I’ve ever been.
Still, Dean is paranoid. I didn’t notice it before because I was so focused on leaving, but his pupils are so small it’s a wonder he can see anything at all. It can’t be just alcohol in his system. He must be on something else.
After what feels like a lifetime of him pacing around and me nodding in and out of sleep, he finally stops in front of me, leaning down with a smile on his face. “Are you finally ready to talk?”
I look up at him, confused. There’s tape covering my mouth. I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to, but he never asked me before. This is the first time.
“You didn’t want to before,” he clarifies. “I figured with some waiting, perhaps you’d finally give in and tell me where you’re really going?”
I nod my head, playing along with his lunacy for as long as I can. Honestly, I prefer him pacing around in front of me for endless hours. Now that he’s turned his attention back to me, I feel a new surge of fear.
“You have to say yes or no, you stupid slut,” he says, crouching down in front of me. “Do you want to talk, or not?”
I make a noise through the tape. Surely, he realizes my mouth is taped shut. I can’t say a damn thing.
“Oh, that’s right,” he says with a laugh. “You can’t talk. Wouldn’t it be cool if you couldn’t breathe either?”
Before I can rock back and avoid his hand, his fingers clamp down hard on my nose. I immediately try to suck in air, but I can’t. He’s suffocating me, and squirming doesn’t make it better. He only squeezes on my nose harder.
“You deserve this,” he grumbles, keeping his fingers tight around my nostrils as I push my tongue out, trying to break the tape and allow myself to breathe.
I jerk my head, my lungs starting to burn with desperation. Nothing I’m doing is working, and Dean is just squatting there in front of me with a goofy smile on his oily face. I didn’t think he had it in him to do something so horrible. He was never this violent when we were dating.
Never.
I push my tongue out harder, finally finding the edge of the tape and peeling it far enough away from my lip and that I can suck in some air. It’s cold and crisp and delicious in my lungs. Breathing isn’t something you even notice until you can’t anymore, and then it’s everything.
“You spoiled it,” Dean groans, retracting his fingers from my nose. “I wanted to see you turn blue.”
“What the fuck, Dean,” I gasp through the gap in the tape.
“I guess you’re ready to talk now, huh?” he says with a chuckle.
I don’t find any of this funny. He’s torturing me, and I can’t do anything about it but try to talk him back to his senses. That won’t be easy.
“Dean, let’s talk,” I say, softening my voice until it sickens me. “I want to be honest with you. What I’ve done wasn’t fair, and I can see that now.”
He laughs, standing back up and crossing his arms. “You’ve been running away from me, hiding everything from me instead of trying to work things out like we should’ve,” he says.
“Is that a good reason to hold someone prisoner?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You’re lucky I haven’t done anything worse to you. I’m trying to give you a chance.”
This isn’t the Dean I knew. He used to be so pathetic and soft. He’d never even step on a bug when we went out, and now he’s punching me in the stomach and tying me up in my apartment. He almost killed me.
“Dean, are you okay?” I ask, trying to be nice so that he doesn’t freak out on me again.
“What do you mean,” he asks with a frown.
“You just seem a little… off,” I reply, looking for a better word but failing to find it in time.
He shakes his head dismissively. “I feel better than ever, April, and you will too once we’ve gotten this sorted out. Tell me first, though, where you were going.”
“I just wanted to get away for a while,” I reply vaguely, knowing he’s not going to be satisfied with that answer but simultaneously praying that he will.
“April, you poor, stupid woman. I’m not buying that story at all. You were going to visit your boyfriend,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “The big guy with the neck tattoos.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I reply quickly. It’s the truth, but I doubt Dean will believe that.
“He was here last night,” Dean says. “Men like that don’t just run up into someone’s apartment and then leave. There has to be a reason. Were you fucking him?”
“No,” I reply. “I don’t like him. He’s a criminal.”
“Oh my fucking god, April. You’re fucking a criminal? God knows how many diseases you’re carrying now. We’re have to get you tested before we get back together,” he says.
“I didn’t have sex with him. He came here and I told him to leave, just like I did to you,” I explain calmly.
He sighs. “Not only are you a cheap slut, but you’re also a terrible liar. We’ll talk again when you’re ready to tell me the truth. In the meantime, keep your dirty mouth shut,” he says, then he squats down and slaps the tape back over my lips again.
“I have to make a phone call,” he says, walking away and falling down on the couch. “I’m pretty tired.”
I watch as he pulls out his phone and punches in a number. He does look tired now, not like he was when he first came here. His eyes were manic then, but now they seem drained. He won’t last much longer before he falls asleep, and maybe Rebel will arrive while he’s passed out on the couch.
Dean presses his phone to his ear, glaring at me while he talks. “Yeah, I need more of the stuff. Shit wears off too quickly,” he says. “Also, do you have any acid, by the way. I need something strong.” He pauses. “No, not the drug. I mean, like, acid for burning stuff. The chemical.”
I don’t like where this is going.
“Okay, so can you just deliver it if I give you an address?” Dean continues. “Why not? Fuck, okay, I’ll come there. I think I’m fine to drive.”
He hangs up his phone and stands up from the couch like an old man. He’s barely able to get up, and for a moment I think he’s going to fall over backward.
I don’t have any such luck, however. He comes toward me, shaking his head again. “I’m going to have to put you in the bathroom for a while. I need to make a quick trip to pick up supplies for tonight.”
I’m unable to protest as he pushes me over and rolls me down the hallway. Twice he steps on my hair, almost falling over on top of me. He’s severely fucked up, hungover from whatever weird drug he’s been taking. This isn’t normal for him, even when he’s tired.
When I begin to realize the potential of Dean going through withdrawal in front of me while I’m tied up, my blood runs cold. As little as I know about drugs, I do know that he has the potential to become extremely violent and agitated if he doesn’t get another dose quickly enough. Would he risk leaving me here by myself to go get another fix?
Both possibilities terrify me, but at least one scenario would give me the chance to try and escape, or at the very least scream for my life.
I shut my eyes, trying not to think about what he’s going to do to me when he gets back. I have to find a way to escape when he’s gone. It’s my only chance. I can’t wait for Rebel to come save me. He doesn’t even know what’s happening, and by the time he gets here, it’ll probably be too late.
“Very good,” Dean says, dusting off his hands after he props me up against the side of the bathtub. “Just stay there and don’t make any noise. I’ll only be gone for a minute.”
I nod my head, trying to look as defeated as I can. It’s difficult to express any emotion when I’m tied up so tightly with my ability to move and speak taken away from me.
Dean stares at me for a moment, his eyes moving over my helpless figure in delight. “We’re going to fix you right up,” he says quietly right before leaving the bathroom and shutting the door.
I don’t hear him leave right away, and I wonder if he hasn’t hopped out the window. I wouldn’t but anything past him, but if he kills himself on the way out or gets shot in the parking lot during his drug deal, I’m going to be stuck here until I manage to untied myself.
Jesus, it’d be an impossible task. My arms won’t move at all.
I’m stuck.
