Page 30 of Caging Liberty
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” I shrug. “But what else are you going to do?”
She bites her lip as she considers this.
“Better question, who do you think will give up first, you or Sawyer? Do you want to know what happens if it’s Sawyer?”
She looks away.
“Let me give you a hint… You’re not going to be shipped back to your old life.”
“I get it.”
“He isn’t going to send food to this room forever.”
“I said I get it,” Lib grates out, yanking the dress into her lap.
She glowers at me and points just over my shoulder. “Turn around.”
My lips lift into a smirk, but I turn around before she has a chance to see it.
9
Liberty
Ican feel the vibe of the playroom before we ever enter it.
Voiceless pop music makes my skin vibrate, the sound intensifying as a couple bursts through the set of wooden, double doors. Or not a couple... A man and his victim. You wouldn’t know it by the way she beams up at him, stumbling in high heels while hanging onto his arm for support. It’s the collar that gives away the situation.
That triggers another thought. Are there non-captives on the island who are okay with this? Is anyone married?
“Don’t overthink,” Mr. A says, his cinnamon breath hitting the shell of my ear. A tingle spreads down my neck and shoots goosebumps over my shoulder from the sensation, and, frustrated at my body’s betrayal, I step away from his touch the moment his hand splays on my lower back.
I turn my head to Mr. A and find him smiling at me with perfectly straight teeth. “I see that brain of yours churning. Just relax. I’ve got you, I promise.”
When he takes my arm, I pull away but follow him to the door. I tug my dress down my thighs, but that just causes cleavage to spill from the top, so I end up pulling it back up. I don’t know how he could possibly expect me to relax when he has me dressed up like this. I’m used to the six-inch heels, so I’m able to gracefully walk, but that’s the only small comfort.
Mr. A opens the door, the music blowing me back like a gust of wind. I follow him inside, and as soon as my eyes and mind have time to make sense of the place, I regret allowing him to bring me here.
Sex. So much sex. Lights flicker and people crowd the space, bare skin appearing with every flash. The room reeks of sex and sweat, and the sound of voices and groans somehow drowns out the music.
My lungs seize, and my eyes widen. I don’t think I can breathe let alone move. If my muscles would cooperate, I’d be running.
Mr. A either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he walks farther into the room without looking back. The doors slam shut behind me, and I whirl my head around. A man in a suit stands next to the exit with his hands clasped in front of him. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but I’d bet my life he can sense I’m contemplating running.
But where?
Anywhere but here.
I dart forward in panic when I don’t see Mr. A. My shoulder slams into a woman who turns toward me and scowls, but I don’t have it in me to pause and give an apology. There are so many people in here, and it’s hard to see more than a few feet in front of me, but I hurry forward anyway, my head jerking side to side in search of my ‘protector.’
A man with the first few buttons of his black shirt undone steps in front of me, his lips curved up. He touches my arm and leans in to say something, but when I jerk away, bumping into another person, he rears back like I’m the intrusive one.
“Are you okay?” he shouts over the music, but I don’t stick around long enough to answer. I hurry around him and let out a sigh of relief when I spot Mr. A up ahead at a bar. His back is to me, but when I catch sight of his blue suit and thick hair, I run toward him.
My eyes bug so that I don’t let him out of my sight, and when I make it to him, I grab onto his arm, looking over my shoulder to see if the man from before is following. A sharp exhale flees from my lungs when I don’t see him.
“Oh, so you get to touch me, but I can’t touch you?”
I snap my head back toward Mr. A, fire burning inside me when I spot the amusement in his eyes.