Taken

Chapter 2

My eyes flickered from his blank, hard eyes to the glint of metal that hit my eyes as Mom reached into the pocket of the robe she had thrown on before leaving the house. She had come here less often during the colder months once Dad had blocked off the entrance that led down here from inside, but it seemed the warmth of Russian vodka had her venturing down with her gun ready as a precaution.

Ash remained frozen, barely breathing as the older woman tumbled into him, maneuvering herself between his bent legs to press against his torso. He didn't look at her, his eyes pierced straight through her like she wasn't there. Like he wasn't there.

"Hello, pretty boy," she cooed up at him with a slimy smile that had unease crawling down my spine. She leaned in further. Placing the hard barrel of the gun at his temple, she dragged it down to his cheek as her grin grew to flash her stained teeth. "You're face is so handsome."

Neither one of us breathed as she swayed, pressing the end of the loaded weapon into his cheek.

A strained breath of relief began to ease out of my lungs when she pulled it back, but it caught in my throat when she began to trail the barrel down Ash's chest. She continued until it rested against his crotch.

"So young," she breathed against his neck before placing her lips against his skin. "You know what they say about youth. You should enjoy it."

The smirk on her lips hardened when he gave her no response. That didn't stop her.

"You can touch me," she said, raising one of his shackled hands to her breast, guiding him to cup it.

My vision flashed red. The urge to run up to them and pull her back by her hair intensified. My fingers dug into the rough wood hiding me while I reminded myself that she had a gun. One that she was still pointing at Ash's crotch. Her intentions were clear and had my nausea from earlier returning full force.

The moment she stopped supporting his hand, it dropped to the floor with disinterest.

"You're husband wouldn't appreciate that," Ash ground out through his teeth, still refusing to look her way to her growing annoyance. At the mention of Dad, it switched to anger.

Her lips curled back in a snarl as she pressed the side of the gun against his chest and shoved at him, staggering to her feet. "Did I say you could fucking speak? How dare you mention him!" Her words came out slurred and angry.

He remained unfazed.

But I didn't. Brushing my hand over the filthy floor, I found a decent-sized piece of broken-off wood and tossed it towards the door. The faint sound it created as it made an impact had Mom jerking. She cast a wary eye over her shoulder before narrowing it back on Ash.

She spit on him, hitting him on the cheek. I flinched for him when it hit his skin.

"Disgusting. Only good for one thing," she mumbled as she turned away, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a stale bun to throw toward him.

She continued to mumble to herself in anger as she made her way to the door and slammed it behind her. The sound of the lock engaging rang out in the quiet and cold room.

Waiting a few beats to make sure she didn't return, I emerged from my hiding spot and made my way to Ash's side as he wiped the spit dripping down his cheek on his shoulder.

Pulling out the roll of gauze I had grabbed, I wound it around my hand a few times before tearing it off with my teeth. Sliding it off my fingers and balling it, I raised it to his cheek to help him clean the remaining mess.

The back of my throat began to burn the longer he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything to help. I wanted to, but neither of us stands much of a chance against a gun."

"No. I don't want you interfering. Ever. Gun or no gun." The conviction in his voice and the heat in his eyes that suddenly had no problem meeting mine had me pausing.

That wasn't going to stop me.

Not if I ever saw a chance of getting him out of here. Even if I had to sacrifice myself to do it. It would still be a win-win. Both of us would still be free of this hell.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft and gentle.

He looked away, his lips flattening in a familiar indication that the discussion was over.

I couldn't do much for his mental state, but I could help with his physical.

Reaching for his wrists again, I didn't waste time taking in the concerning sight as I pushed up the shackles to unwind his bandages and set them aside. Pulling out the bottle of vodka, I poured it over the angry red wounds I had uncovered. Ash didn't so much as blink at the sting I was sure accompanied my actions. Wrapping fresh bandages around his wrists, I covered them with a torn strip of old cloth to hide their bright and sterile appearance before moving on to his shackled ankles. The whole time I felt his eyes watching me closely.

"You look tired," he remarked as I finished and moved onto his neck.

I gave him a smile that didn't hide the bone-deep exhaustion I felt. "I am tired."

There was no point in lying to Ash. He always saw right through my fake reassurances.

He frowned as I continued to work on his neck, but didn't say much more. I was surprised he had spoken as much as he had, typically sticking to head movements to communicate and single-word responses.

"There," I said, finishing with his neck and settling the shackle that serves as a collar over the hidden fresh bandages. I reached into my pocket to retrieve the granola bars I had grabbed for him as I moved back, not wanting my position to remind him of what happened earlier. "These should-"

My breath hitched as his arms stopped my retreat and pulled me closer. Dragging me between his legs and to his chest, he held me against him as he buried his nose into the side of my neck. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath.

He pulled back to press his lips to the side of my head. "Thank you, Greysi."

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