Draft version - Russian Roulette - Family secrets

Ch. 133: Princess, princess, princess

Cold.

So fantastically cold.

Not only her body but her insides were freezing cold.

Mackenzie was shivering, her teeth chattering around the gag, as she was bouncing in the trunk of whatever car she had been stuffed in.

She had been barefoot and in pajama pants and a t-shirt, when they had taken her down the stairs from the floor of her room at the hotel. They had threatened her to stay quiet and cooperate or they would kill whoever came to her aid.

It was a much better threat than saying they would kill her. That she would have welcomed because she would be saved from whatever punishment she had coming. The card in the box had said it all. If King was going to explode over her close relationship with Gareth or her lack of information to stop Gareth from signing with Niehauser was no concern of hers.

It would be painful either way.

The fact that she had not been drugged like all the other times had her head spinning. That probably meant the punishment would begin the moment she got to wherever they were headed.

Though she tried to push through her fear and the cold, she had problems concentrating. Listening to the car and the music in it, stopped her from being able to listen for trains, other cars or city life to figure out where they were. In the end she gave up. It would do her no good.

Hopefully the guys would try to find her when Alyssa informed them of what had happened. Not that it would help her in time, she just hoped she would be let go one day.

She was not sure she had anything to come back to.

Maybe, just maybe, she would see her friends again. And hopefully they would have found Gareth. That was the one thing she hoped for. She had no hopes for herself, she wished for him to be rescued and have a good life. For him to lead his men once again and prosper into an even more remarkable man than the one she loved.

Mackenzie wished Gareth would live on without her.

Those thoughts gave her a sense of peace while she waited for them to reach their destination.

It felt like hours before the car stopped. When Iri's grim face came into her view she wished it would have been more hours.

Days if possible.

The way he smiled at her, before he tied a cloth of some kind around her head to blindfold her, was sickening. It was like he already knew what was going to happen and he was looking forward to it. Usually, King would let Iri have a go at her sexually. Last time was the first time he had been allowed to whip her. That he had done to his heart's content. Normally, King preferred to do that himself, something about her being able to feel him long after.

It was true.

The way her skin burned while the swelled-up welts went down. That weird numbness and burning warmth like from an elastic band snapped against the skin, only constantly feeling it. How the skin itched where it had been broken, little wounds she wanted to scratch at all the time but had to refrain from to avoid scars.

She felt that long after the physical soreness from the sexual abuse was gone. The body was made to have sex, granted, not that violently, it could adapt to the intrusions. The skin was not made for that kind of whippings.

Probably what Iri was looking forward to.

He had gotten a taste for it the last time. That he wanted more, was a given.