Saved Mafia Bride by Mae Doyle

Clara

Ikeep expecting Gavin to come back down the stairs. Maybe he’ll tell me that this was all a terrible mistake, although I don’t think that there’s really any chance of that happening. Maybe he’ll tell me that he’s going to kill me, which I could totally see.

Rubbing my arms makes me think about the injection he gave me, and I look down at my left bicep. It takes me a minute to find the hole.

No, holes. The asshole gave me more than one shot, probably to ensure that I would stay quiet on the ride. Anger washes over me as I think about him looking at me while I was sleeping and deciding that he needed to give me something else to keep me quiet.

“Who the hell does shit like this?” I ask, even though I’m not really expecting an answer. It’s a good thing, too, since I can’t hear a damn thing that’s going on upstairs. He could have left the house for all I know, it’s so fucking quiet.

As much as I want to stay on the bed to try to stay as safe as possible, I have to pee, and I force myself to get up and go to the toilet. That means leaving the blanket behind, and I hurry, not wanting him to come back downstairs and see me almost naked.

It’s only when I’m sitting down and staring at the bed that I notice the metal hanging on the wall. Manacles. I’ve never seen any in person, but I’ve seen them in movies and I know in an instant that there’s no way that he’s going to let me just walk out of here. If he’s willing to have manacles like that on the wall above the bed then he’s probably willing to do whatever it takes to keep me here.

Clapping my hand over my mouth, I choke down a scream. Terror washes over me and I hurry up, wash my hands, then run back to the bed to curl up under the blanket. It’s stupid that being wrapped up like this makes me feel safe when I know full well that there isn’t a damn thing that I can do to really protect myself.

He looks strong and kind but there’s something more to him.

My fingers itch for my cell phone, but I don’t know who I would call for help. I’m late on my monthly protection payment, which means that my protection has ended. I don’t think that there’s a clause in our agreement that covers what would happen if I were to be kidnapped.

You know why? Because I honestly never fucking thought that that would happen. Fat lot of good paying good money like that did me when I ended up being taken by Gavin and nobody batted a fucking eye.

Rolling over, I stew. I’m angry at myself for making piss-poor decisions that put me in danger in the first place. I’m angry at the men who were supposed to protect me but didn’t.

I’m angry at my father for selling me off to the highest bidder when I was younger and for not giving me a choice in what I wanted out of my life. If he hadn’t done that then I could still live at home, or at least be in contact with my mom.

But I ran. I hid. I’ve changed my name so many damn times that I’ve almost forgotten what my name is. I would love for someone to call me by my real name but I know that that’ll probably never happen again. I won’t tell Gavin.

He kidnapped me and I’m sure that he wants to do terrible thing to me. I might not be able to stop him, might not be able to fight him off, but I’m sure as hell never going to tell him who I really am.

There’s just no winning here. If my family finds out where I am then they’ll send people to kill Gavin and take me back, but not to be free. I’ll be taken back home to be punished and to be married off without any say in the matter.

Or I can stay here with a man who only sees me as something that he can take for himself. As much as I’d like to think that Gavin could one day really care for me, I know how men are. I know what they want and I know that they’re willing to tell themselves whatever they have to in order to get it.

Panic threatens to make me shut down, but I push it deep in myself and mentally lock it up. This isn’t the first time that my back has been against the wall. I got away from my parents, and they were determined to sell me off. There isn’t any reason why I can’t get away from Gavin.

That thought spurs me to sit up and I wipe my hand across my cheeks, brushing away the tears that are lingering there. If I had just stayed in bed and cried when I was younger then I never would have been able to escape in the first place.

I escaped once. I can do it again.

“Of course,” I say, my voice surprising me in the quiet of the basement, “you weren’t locked in a basement the first time you escaped. And you had real clothes. And money that you could use to pay for a cab to get the hell out of there.”

Things are a little different now, but one thing is the same, and that’s me. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to just sit back and wait to see what Gavin wants to do to me. I just have to come up with a plan.

Rolling over, I curl up on my side and try to ignore the fear tickling at the back of my neck. I could give in to the fear, I know that I could, but that won’t do me any good. The best thing for me to do is try to stay calm and think through what I’m going to do.

For the longest time all I do is lay still and listen to my breathing. There isn’t a single sound from the rest of the house. If Gavin is here then he’s being so quiet that I don’t have a chance of hearing him. Of course, there’s always the possibility that he left me here, and that’s good.

If he left me here then he feels safe enough to leave me locked up in the basement.

That means that he thinks he’s unstoppable and that I don’t have a way out of here.

Some people might get upset by that, but all it does is spur me on. Everyone has a weakness and I don’t know what Gavin’s is yet, but I’m going to figure it out. Pushing myself off the bed, I walk carefully around the basement, running my hands along the wall. It’s probably stilly to think that I’ll be able to feel any weak place in the wall, but there might be one.

But by the time I’ve looped around the entire basement, I’m starting to doubt myself. The walls are all more solid than I would have thought possible. I’ve checked and double-checked everything down here, but it looks like the basement was carved deep into the ground and doesn’t have a single weak spot.

That leaves the door at the top of the stairs.

I have no idea if Gavin put in cameras down here to try to watch me when he’s gone, but I still creep carefully up the stairs like I expect him to burst through the door and catch me doing something that I shouldn’t. When I reach the door my heart is slamming hard in my chest and I have to bend over to take a few deep breaths.

“You got this,” I whisper to myself, then grab the door handle and twist it.

Or, rather, I try. The handle doesn’t give, not one bit, and I yank it back in the other direction, trying hard stay calm. In just a moment, though, I’m slamming my body into the door, tears streaming down my face.

It isn’t just a plain wooden door, that much is for sure. First of all, it doesn’t budge. Not one bit. I have a terrible feeling that I could slam myself into the door all day long but it still wouldn’t make a difference.

Secondly, when I do hit the door with my body, I can actually hear some kind of reverberation in it. Metal bars, probably, which means that the entire place is closed up tighter than a nun’s asshole.

“Fucking hell,” I say, wiping sweat off of my forehead. I’d kill for actual clothes and to get out of this stripper outfit but I have no reason to hope that he’ll come to me and bring me anything to wear.

Sighing, I turn and sit down on the stairs, letting my eyes drift over the basement. There isn’t a single place that I could hide from him. Everything is as exposed as I am in this stupid outfit.

Unless.

Excitement courses through me and I turn, looking back at the door behind me. Unless I can somehow hide close to the door until he gets back. He wouldn’t necessarily be looking for me up here by the door, he’d probably think that I was still in the bed.

That’s only if he doesn’t have cameras in here.

I hesitate then push myself up and go stand by the door, pressing my body up against the wall as hard as possible.

It might work.

Might.

But I have to try it if I’m going to attempt an escape. If it doesn’t work then I’m going to be stuck in here for as long as he keeps me, and I can’t let that happen. The first time that I saw him I thought that I could fall for him, but he ruined that.

Now I know the truth about him. He’s a monster, and there’s no way in hell that I’m going to sit around and wait for him to hurt me.

That’s all that people in my life have tried to do to me, and I’m tired of it. It’s time for me to stop running and fight back.

I’ll do whatever it takes for me to get out of this basement, even if that means I push him down the stairs and kill him.