Keeping My Captive by Angela Snyder
CHAPTER7
Aria
IWAKE UP as the plane touches down on the runway. Startled, I inhale a sharp gasp as I look out the small window. It’s early morning, and everything outside looks bright and sunny. At least my prison will have nice weather, I think sarcastically to myself.
I glance across the aisle to the man who bought me. His dark eyes are locked onto me, and the way he’s watching so intensely sends a shiver running up my spine. He’s looking at me like he can’t figure out what he wants to do — fuck me or kill me. Maybe a little bit of both.
Tearing my gaze away from his, I stare out the window as the plane slowly comes to a stop. I didn’t even know I had fallen asleep. I mean, it’s no surprise given how exhausted I was, but I can’t believe I left myself so unguarded and vulnerable. I guess it says something about my captor, who didn’t assault me or try anything while I was asleep, but I’m still not letting my guard down around him. One little act of kindness can’t make up for the fact that he is kidnapping me.
“Where are we?” I ask him, not expecting an answer.
I’m surprised when he says, “Mexico.”
Mexico. God, I’m not even in the United States anymore. And that’s a long way from New York…
Thiago makes his way down the aisle, winking at me when he walks past. “It’s good to be home,” he announces before exiting the plane.
Mateo stares after him, his eyes narrowed. The tension is almost palpable. Then, his eyes land on me before he stands and says, “Let’s go.”
My hand trembles as I fumble with my seatbelt, and it takes me three times to get the damn release button clicked. Finally free, I stand up and follow my captor down the steps to get off the plane.
I’ve barely put my feet on the ground when I hear Mateo utter something in his native tongue. I turn to see who he’s talking to, and I barely have time to register the fact that there’s a gun in his hand before it goes off.
I watch in horror as Thiago falls to the ground in a lifeless heap. There’s a bullet wound between his dead eyes, which are staring up at me. My gaze slowly moves to my captor, who nonchalantly pulls out a black handkerchief from his front suit pocket and wipes away the spray of blood from his cheek.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s why he wears black, because otherwise the dry-cleaning bill would be astronomical if he just goes around killing everyone, even his so-called friends.
I slowly back away from him, my eyes darting around to the small airport in the distance. It’s not deserted. I can see people milling about inside the building through the windows. If I can just get to it, I can…
“Don’t even think about running,” Mateo says, his voice dark and dangerous.
I don’t even heed his warning. My feet begin moving before my brain can even catch up. I slowly slip out of my high heels and take off running like my life depends on it…because it does. Little bits of gravel dig into my bare feet as I run down the tarmac towards the building, towards someone, anyone, who I hope will be my savior.
“Help me! Someone please help me!” I scream, waving my hands in desperation. Maybe someone will call the authorities or do something. But I don’t make it very far before I’m tackled into a patch of grass beside the tarmac.
The air is knocked out of my lungs as we tumble to the ground. Somehow Mateo keeps most of his weight off of me, taking the brunt of the fall with his shoulder. He grunts in pain, but quickly recovers, straddling me as I reach up, intending to scratch his eyeballs out.
I manage to score his cheek before he grabs my wrists, securing them both with just one of his large hands. He pins them above my head and glowers down at me.
“What did I tell you?” he snaps.
I stare up at him, my mind blank. All I can think about is how I can get out of this situation.
“I told you to not even think about running. And what did you do?” he hisses angrily. He’s scolding me like a child, and I hate it.
I open my mouth to scream, but then I hear the cock of a gun before he’s pressing the end of the barrel to my temple.
“I haven’t decided whether I’m going to keep you or kill you…but you’re making my decision a lot easier by pulling stunts like this,” he murmurs, scowling.
My entire body shivers uncontrollably beneath him. I just watched my captor kill a man, who appeared to be a friend of his. I know he won’t hesitate to kill me.
“This is your one and only free pass,” Mateo warns before standing and hauling me up with him. He jams the barrel of his gun into my back and growls, “Walk.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. Now is not the time to appear weak. Weakness will only get me killed. So, I simply obey him, doing a walk of shame back towards the plane, slipping back into my high heels on the way and hating the feeling of little pebbles digging into my soles with every step. There’s a car waiting for us, and he guides me to it. The back door is open, but I hesitate to get in. My hesitation earns me a huff of displeasure before he locks one of his hands around my arm and forces me inside.
It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the car, but I see immediately that I’m not alone. There is a man sitting in the corner of the bench seat opposite of mine. He’s big, bald, tattooed, with a scar running through his eyebrow and left eye, which is completely white in color. The man stares at me intently, merely acknowledging my existence but not speaking a word.
A moment later, Mateo climbs into the car and sits next to him and directly across from me.
“How was your trip?” the man asks with a heavy accent.
“Eventful,” Mateo quips.
“I can see that,” the man says with a smirk.
They begin to speak back and forth in Spanish, and I’m instantly lost in their conversation. Every once in a while, they glance in my direction, so I know that they’re discussing me. I just hope it’s not over where to hide my body after they kill me.
A violent shudder runs through me, and I wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together, because I feel like I could suddenly fall apart at any given moment. I turn my attention to the window as the car begins to drive away from the airport. Focusing, I try to take in every detail, memorize any landmarks or anything that might prove useful if I manage to escape my captor. If I can make it back to the airport at any time, maybe I can find someone to help me.
The car ride is long, and I almost give up hope of remembering everything in the small chance I do make it back to the airport. But then I steel my spine and force myself to concentrate. I can’t give up already. If I do, I’m as good as dead.
I can hear my father’s voice in my head right now. Never lose hope. We’ll find you no matter where you are or who has you. He ingrained those words into my head when I was just a little girl. It had frightened me at the time, but I never imagined it would actually ever happen to me; that I would be kidnapped or sold.
I stare across the aisle at Mateo, who is staring at me. And I know in that moment that I’ll do whatever it takes to escape. I will never stop fighting.
Maybe he can sense the change in my demeanor…or maybe he can read minds, but he quirks a brow at me in challenge. Narrowing my eyes at him in defiance, I turn my head and stare out the tinted window.
Eventually, the car slows and comes to a stop in front of a large security gate that seems to stretch up into the heavens. The fence surrounding the property must be at least twenty feet tall with barbed wire at the top, and my plan of escaping quickly begins to deflate.
We drive through the gate after a thorough check, and then I see the place that will be my prison for I don’t know how long. Maybe even eventually my tomb.
The compound is huge, spanning over a few acres of land, darkly utilitarian, and nondescript with gray concrete walls and very few windows in the front. Obviously, they are not trying to flaunt their wealth or power. They are trying to maintain a low profile here. It almost looks like a warehouse, not a dwelling, but I have a feeling the inside will be quite the opposite. I haven’t known my captor for very long, but I can’t see him living in squalor since his suit probably costs more than most people’s rent.
Armed guards with dogs roam the property as the car coasts up the long, gravel driveway. A nearby dog snaps and barks at the car, and I jump. I hear Mateo chuckle, and it has my blood turning to ice. If he finds pleasure in my fear, it doesn’t bode well for me.
The car rolls to a stop in front of the large building, and someone opens the door. Mateo studies me intently, motioning for me to exit on my own. I wish so hard to be invisible in that moment, to just disappear inside the backseat. Once I get out of this car, my fate is sealed. I know now that I’ll never be able to escape. This place is twice as big as my family’s compound and at least ten times more secure.
“Why do you keep defying me every step of the way?” Mateo asks, disapproval marking his tone.
He reaches for me, but I quickly pull away and get out of the car on my own. Several guards surround us, and a few of them stare at me creepily, their eyes raking up and down my body. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to cover as much as I can since my torn dress is leaving little to the imagination at the moment.
Mateo steps out of the car behind me, his tall frame unfolding and towering over me. I glance up at him, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me.
“Ella está fuera de los límites,” he announces in a deep, booming voice.
I have no idea what that means, but it has an effect on his men, who suddenly forget all about me and go about their business. I’m just thankful that they’re no longer leering at me.
Mateo looks to the bald dude and says, “Take her to my room.”
My eyes widen, and I quickly look around for a way out of this situation.
Mateo clicks his tongue, bringing my attention back to him. “Did we not learn our lesson earlier about trying to run?” he reminds me.
I think about his gun pressed against my temple, and I quickly shake my head. No, I won’t run. At least not right now. But the first chance I get, I’m getting away from this man and this godforsaken place.
“Take her, Ignacio,” Mateo instructs him.
Ignacio grabs my arm in a tight grip and hauls me towards the entrance of the massive building. I want to protest, but I know my pleas will fall on deaf ears.
“I’ll be back later,” Mateo calls over his shoulder.
Why does that sound like a threat?
Ignacio leads me through the nondescript front door. But when we walk through the open foyer, I have to stop myself from gasping. The inside of the house looks nothing like the outside. The inside is opulent, immaculately decorated with antique furniture and colorful artwork on the walls. I only get the chance to glance around before I’m forced up the grand staircase.
There are several doors upstairs, and Ignacio leads me to the last one in the hallway. This door is different than the others. It almost looks like the wood was hand carved with intricate patterns and flowers.
Ignacio turns the knob, pushes through the door and roughly tosses me onto the large bed in the center of the room. I collapse against the soft sheets and glare at him.
Then, he points a thick, tattooed finger at me. “Stay,” he says, speaking to me like I’m a dog.
When he’s satisfied I’m not going to try to run out of the room, he leaves, closing the door behind him. I wait to hear a lock of some kind, but I don’t hear anything else but the sound of his retreating footsteps. I think about leaving, about running, but then I remember the numerous guards outside with dogs and the huge, gated fence lining the property. I wouldn’t make it more than a few feet out the front door without being caught…or gunned down.
No, I have to bide my time; wait for the perfect opportunity to escape.
Climbing off the bed, I look around the room. It’s extremely masculine with dark wood furniture, stone wall panels, a black shag rug under the huge bed, and a leather and metal armchair in the corner of the room.
There are no windows in this room, but there are two doors, and I open both of them. One leads to a large walk-in closet full of black suits, shirts, ties and dress shoes, and the other leads to a large, modern en-suite with a glass-encased shower and a copper clawfoot tub.
I slowly walk over to the sink and stare at my reflection. What I see there scares me. I don’t even look like myself. My hair is a ratty mess; my eyes are bloodshot; streaks of mascara are stuck to my cheeks; and my skin is covered in blood and dirt. My dress is completely ruined, and I’m quick to strip out of it. Then, I step out of my heels, take off my bra and panties and walk into the shower. Turning the water on, I make it as hot as I can stand it and then proceed to begin to scrub the grime and dirt from my body with a bar of soap I find on a shelf.
The water feels so good, so soothing that I begin to cry. And once I start, I can’t stop. My mind is assaulted by everything that’s occurred over the past few days. Selina and I getting kidnapped and strung up like animals. Constantine almost raping me but then letting me go. Me being taken to The Island and then sold to my captor. All the people who died at the club. The girl who was taken from the van and beaten into submission, possibly even to death. The man from the plane who was murdered in front of me.
So many lives taken and irrevocably changed in such a short span of time. So much tragedy. And I’m simply at the epicenter of it all, watching everything happen and having to survive somehow. But how? How can I possibly survive this?
My legs threaten to give out on me, and I slowly slide down to the tiled floor. I rest my head against my knees and sob under the spray of water. Now that I’m alone at last, I finally allow myself to grasp the gravity of my situation and breakdown.
I just hope that Selina was rescued somehow and that she’s not suffering a similar fate. That’s the only thing that keeps me sane. The only thing that gives me any sense of peace in this terrible situation.
