Keeping My Captive by Angela Snyder
CHAPTER6
Aria
SEVEN MILLION DOLLARS. I mean, I guess I should feel flattered in a way. None of the other girls went for much over a million. Although I’m sure my virginity played a role in my exuberant price tag, because my little act of defiance on stage certainly didn’t help the way I thought it would.
I’m being led down a shadowy hallway with the other women. I have no idea what will happen next, and not knowing is perhaps the worst part of all. My hands are tied behind me this time, like all the rest. And since I’m at the front of the line, I don’t even have time to react or study my surroundings when they open the main doors and then a black hood is thrown over my head. Darkness consumes me, and I struggle to breathe through the heavy material.
I hear cars running in the distance, and we’re being led towards them. I stop walking, and I quickly regret that decision. A boot is planted against my backside, kicking me. I stumble forward but manage not to fall flat on my face.
“Keep moving!” someone demands from behind me.
I can hear one of the women cry out, and I turn my head towards that direction, but I can’t see a damn thing and I’m definitely not in any position to help her.
Suddenly, I feel the presence of someone next to me. I feel a soft caress on my bare arm before a voice whispers into my ear, “You should’ve been mine, little lamb.”
“Who are you?” I ask, trembling in fear.
“I’ll see you soon,” the mysterious man says calmly, but it sounds like a warning…or a threat. Then, I hear his footsteps retreat, his presence no longer casting a dark shadow across my hood.
Before I can even contemplate what the man meant or who he might be, I’m being pulled into another direction by someone else. I’m pressed up against the exterior of a vehicle before I hear a door opening, and then I’m violently shoved inside. I fall face first onto a soft leather seat, and then I hear the door close behind me.
I lay there, still and quiet, my ragged breaths the only sound around me. I can’t hear him, but I can sense someone in the car with me. His scent envelops me — earthy, woodsy with a hint of cinnamon and tobacco — and I don’t know why, but it calms me for just a moment.
“Please,” I beg. I have no idea who is here, but I need them to help me out of this situation. “Please help me.”
A metallic click has my senses going wild. Is that a…switchblade?
Fingers wrap around one of my bound wrists, and I jump. “Stay still if you don’t want to get cut,” a deep voice demands before I hear him slicing through the rope.
As soon as I’m free, I pull away from him and yank the hood from my head. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then his face slowly comes into focus.
I don’t know what I was expecting, considering this is a person who kidnaps and buys women, but it definitely wasn’t this. The man sitting across from me is devastatingly handsome, beautiful even, with bow-shaped lips, bronze skin, black hair, and dark chocolate eyes that are narrowed in on me. His strong jaw is clenched as he watches me intently, and I have a feeling his attractiveness is probably the same type that serial killers use to lure in their unsuspecting victims.
Even though he’s currently seated, I can tell that he’s tall. Very tall, in fact. He’s dressed in an expensive, black tailored suit, and I can see numerous tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves and collar. My eyes are drawn to the tats on his neck, and I can’t seem to look away. Everything about him screams danger.
“What’s your name?” he asks, drawing my gaze back to his.
Should I tell him? I’ve watched a lot of true crime documentaries. I know that telling him my name might help. He won’t just see me as an empty shell. He might see me as actually human, and maybe he won’t hurt me.
Yeah, right, I internally scoff. I grew up around made men, and I can spot one from a mile away. And the man sitting across from me is definitely dangerous and probably kills for fun.
“Aria,” I whisper.
“Aria,” he says, his tongue rolling on the R and sending a shiver through me. “You are twenty-one years old?” he questions.
I nod slowly.
“Where did they take you from? Where did you live?” he presses.
I think back to the words my father told me once. If anyone ever kidnaps you, don’t give them any information that could lead you back to us. We will never stop looking for you, and we will find you. But don’t give them an advantage. Don’t ever give up the information that could lead them to us first.
I stare out the window, refusing to answer him. The car begins to move, slowly driving down a gravel road. “What are you going to do with me?” I ask. I want to ask if he’s going to kill me and make a skin suit out of my flesh, but I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to be the type, but you never know. Look at Ted Bundy. He looked normal, handsome, charming even, and he was a certified freak.
“I don’t know yet,” is his vague response.
“Are you going to rape me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
This gets me a reaction. A dangerous one. His dark eyes narrow and a sneer appears on his face as he vehemently states, “I don’t rape women.”
While that should make me feel better, it doesn’t. He could just be saying that and go against his word later on. I mean, he did just pay seven million dollars for a virgin. He also might be trying to gain my trust and get me to put my guard down. Never gonna happen. Frowning, I lean my head against the window as I try to hold myself together. It’s hard, but I manage to do it. I don’t want to break down in front of this guy.
The car stops a few minutes later. I stare out the window, trying to gauge my surroundings, but it’s nighttime, and I can’t see much.
“I have to put this back on your head,” he says, indicating to the black hood.
Panic instantly runs through me. I don’t want to be back in that thing. It’s hard to breathe, and I can already feel my lungs seizing up on just the memory of wearing it.
Perhaps sensing my thoughts, he sighs heavily. “I can keep your wrists unbound if you behave, but the hood is a must,” he demands.
I glance around the car. I mean, what choice do I have? This man bought me. He owns me. Just the thought of that sends a shudder through me.
If I’m going to do this, any of this, I’m doing it on my own terms. Angrily, I rip the hood from his hands and place it over my head. Instantly, I’m greeted with my panicked, warm breaths, but I will myself to calm down. Eventually, breathing becomes easier, and I force myself to focus on the fact that my wrists won’t be bound. At least I’ll stand a fighting chance if anything goes down, and I can rip the hood off at any given moment. At least I hold that power.
“Buena niña,” he whispers gruffly in what I’m assuming is his native tongue.
I recognize it as Spanish, which is not one of the three languages I speak. I know English, Italian and some French. Never had the use to study Spanish, but I know some of the basic words. I think he said good girl, but I’m not totally sure. God, I wish I would have spent some time learning it, though. Not that I could have known that I would have been kidnapped and sold to a man that speaks that specific language, however. Nope, never would have guessed that fate for myself.
Sighing, I rest my head against the seat. My entire body is wired with adrenaline, but my brain is exhausted. I feel like I could fall asleep at any given moment, but there is no way I can let myself relax, let alone sleep. Even though this man hasn’t touched me yet, I have no doubt in my mind that he will. Eventually, he will want what he’s clearly paid a lot of money for. Seven million dollars, in fact.
My hands clench into fists on my lap. I will never give myself over to him willingly. If he thought he bought a docile doll, he’s got another thing coming. I will never stop fighting until one of us is dead.
The car door opens, and my breathing picks up. I listen as the man steps out, and then I feel his large hand on my arm, gripping tightly and pulling me out.
“Be good,” he warns before leading me away from the car.
Listening intently, I hear what sounds like multiple plane engines. My heels suddenly dig into the ground. If I get on a plane, this man could take me anywhere in the world.
“No, no, no,” I chant, shaking my head in protest.
I can almost feel the anger coming off of him in waves as he grips my arm tighter. “Don’t make a scene,” he hisses.
He wanted me to be good. But I can’t let him take me anywhere he pleases. I need to give my family a chance to find this place first. To rescue me. Maybe they’re here already. Panic overtakes me, and I begin to hyperventilate inside the hood. “P-please,” I beg.
The man doesn’t sound amused before he simply lifts me up and puts me in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder. I kick and scream, my fists beating on his back as he continues to carry me up a flight of steps, not even grunting from the exertion, as if he does this type of thing all day long.
Maybe he does.
Maybe buying and kidnapping helpless women is his thing. His hobby.
My world turns upside down as he pulls me off his shoulder and throws me into a seat. Not being able to take another damn minute under that hood, I rip it off my face. The man is crouched before me, and he frowns as he stares at me while I struggle to get enough air into my lungs. I push the hair from my eyes and glare at him, daring him to ask me to put it on again. But instead, he simply shakes his head, smirks and goes to the seat across the aisle from me to sit down.
We sit in uncomfortable silence as the pilot does several engine checks over the radio. When the older man in uniform emerges from the cockpit, he tells my captor, “We’ll be departing in a few minutes, sir.”
The man across from me gives the pilot a nod before standing. He towers over me as I stare up at him. And when he reaches for me, I flinch, almost jumping out of my seat. “I’m just going to buckle you in,” he explains calmly, making a show of his hands with the belt, exaggerating his movements, so that I know exactly what he’s doing and where his hands are at all times.
Confused, I stare at him and watch him closely as he buckles me in, his fingertips briefly grazing against my bare thigh. A shudder runs through me from his touch. He pauses, his face merely inches from mine as I take in every detail — his strong features, the stubble lining his perfect jaw, his dark eyes that look like molten chocolate below his thick, dark brows. In any other circumstance or universe, I would be attracted to him. But not now. Not like this. He’s clearly a monster in disguise, hiding under a painstakingly crafted and handsome façade.
Turning my head, I dismiss his intense gaze. After a beat, he clears his throat before returning to his seat directly across from me and buckling himself in.
I stare out one of the small oval windows. The runway is lit up with hundreds of lights, but I can’t see much beyond it. Several planes are boarding and taking off, and I think about those poor women who were auctioned off alongside me and where they might end up. I wonder how many will survive the night and how many will be dead by morning. Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can’t allow myself to appear weak to this man. I need him to know that whatever he wants from me, he’s not getting it without a fight.
Several minutes later, another man boards the plane. He’s short and overweight, his large gut peeking out from under his button-up shirt. His eyes lock onto mine and never waver as his gross tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his thin lips. He stares at me like I’m a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in more than a year. My breath hitches in my throat, but I put on a brave face and glare at him. I swear if he tries to touch me, I will bite his finger off.
He tells my captor something in Spanish and then laughs. My eyes shift to the tattooed man, but he doesn’t seem amused by his friend’s choice of words. His eyes darken as he watches the other man approach me.
“Hello, my name is Thiago,” the short man says to me in introduction. He reaches out towards me, and I lean forward, my teeth snapping just an inch from his finger. “Oh, shit, she’s so feisty!” he throws over his shoulder to my captor. And then his hooded eyes focus on me once again. “Las cosas que te haria,” he mutters before his hand suddenly wraps around my neck. I struggle to breathe as his hand roughly grabs my breasts through my dress. “The two of us could have a lot of fun with you on the way back to Mexico.”
I open my mouth to scream, to yell, or do anything, but nothing comes out. I struggle to try to unbuckle myself, but my fingers can’t find the release button. I’m at his mercy, strapped to this seat. Maybe that was my captor’s plan all along. Maybe he wanted his friend to have fun with me first while I was helpless.
Black dots swirl into my vision as the man cuts off my oxygen, and my mouth slowly opens and closes like I’m a fish out of water.
I’m on the verge of passing out when suddenly the vice grip on my neck is gone, and I can breathe freely again. I gasp and cough violently, sucking in lungfuls of precious oxygen, as I watch the man who bought me grab Thiago and haul him off of me. In a split second, my captor reaches into his jacket and pulls out a Glock, pointing it at my attacker’s head. It’s a gun I’m familiar with since I’ve seen my father and brother carry theirs around a lot over the years.
My captor yells something in Spanish, and the man, who was literally trying to strangle me to death moments before, puts his hands up in defeat, apologizing profusely.
“Por favor, Mateo,” he snivels like the little worm that he is.
Mateo. His name is Mateo.
“I overstepped, my friend. Won’t happen again,” Thiago says before straightening his suit and slowly walking back a few rows to sit behind us.
My captor stares at me, his strong jaw clenching and unclenching before he puts his gun away and calmly returns to his seat as if nothing just happened.
My breathing is shallow, panicked. And when I swallow, my neck throbs in pain. Mateo stares at me, silently assessing me, but doesn’t ask if I’m okay. I close my eyes, effectively blocking him and everything around me out. And I don’t open them again until the plane is taking off. I gaze out the window as I watch the world go by as we fly to…God only knows where.
