Thursday, July 21st
Dawson presses his lips into a firm line. "Good, that's what I like to hear." Before stepping back, he loosens his grip and ruffles my hair. "Wait here for a little longer, my friends are still dealing with yours."
I continue to eye him as he walks out of the room, analyzing his movements in an attempt to read what he's thinking. Surely, he has more planned than us just joining him. When he steps out of the room, I peek around the door frame to see him walking into another room.
This is my chance. I inhale sharply for confidence.
I get up from my chair and make my way to the corner of the room where there's a prominent blind spot. I then frantically look around me for something sharp enough to cut the duct tape that is cinched around my wrists.
"Come on," I whisper to myself. "Come on!"
The rings on my fingers eventually come to mind.
I bite around the ring on my pointer finger slightly, twisting it so I can slide it off. Once it's in my mouth, I adjust it between my teeth so that the pointy edge faces outward.
"Please work," I beg to whoever is listening.
I bring my hands to my mouth, dragging the ring across the tape. To my surprise, it cuts through quite easily, but there are too many layers of tape for the ring to cut through in one go.
Outside of the room, I start to hear faint footsteps, causing me to pause and eye the door. Sweat starts to build up on my temples from anxiety of being caught. Once the footsteps get further away, I begin cutting the tape again until I get down to the last layer.
I slowly rip the last of the tape quietly to avoid any attention being drawn towards my direction. I hear Dawson's voice from down the hall, and not much time passes before I hear another set of voices near this room.
"Hey Val," a man says. It sounds like they're right outside the door. "Where's Farrow?"
Fuck.
"What do you mean, 'where's Farrow'?" a woman replies, gritting through her teeth with a hint of distress.
"Shit," he whispers to the woman before shouting, "Yo, D!"
He pauses and then speaks again, "I thought Farrow was supposed to be in this room... right?"
A long pause filled with suffocating silence follows.
I'm a hundred percent sure that Dawson just lost his cool.
"Gather the others, and find him." His voice fills the silence, accompanied with the obvious sound of anger and frustration.
"Yes, sir." The two in front of the door quickly run to follow his orders.
I have to do it now.
I quickly shuffle against the wall to the door, and I shut my eyes briefly. "Don't fuck it up."
With a big step past the door frame and my legs ready to run, I bolt for it.
I head straight down the hall, immediately looking for an exit. Two guards are standing by the door to the stairs, and at the sound of my footsteps, they quickly turn around to catch me. However, I dodge their swinging arms and sprint up the stairs, skipping steps as I go.
Heavy, loud footsteps follow behind me. There has to be at least four of them chasing me. I can't handle all of them alone, but right now, I have an advantage.
I don't have to worry about anyone but myself.
As I get to another set of double doors, I wriggle the door handle. "Shit, it's locked."
My breathing is intense, and I can barely catch my breath before hearing the footsteps get louder again. My lower back grazes the railing of the stairs as I back up, and I inhale deeply before running straight at the doors with my foot ready to make contact.
The doors burst open, and I continue running. I figure that the building must be huge, because there are so many hallways that I can't keep track of where I'm going. Quieter footsteps are right behind me, running at roughly the same pace, which pushes me to run even faster.
I have to get the fuck out of here.
I take many sharp turns, but with each one there is no other guard in sight. The same footsteps are still behind me.
Whoever it is, they are persistent to catch me.
I whip my head around to take a look at who it is behind me, but no one is there. The footsteps remain at the same tempo as they were before. I turn my head back to face in front, where there's another set of double doors.
As I approach them, the footsteps get closer to me, but there is still no sight of anyone.
Where the fuck are you?
I slow down in front of the doors, and when I do, the footsteps pick up their pace. I glance to my right, and the figure that has been chasing me collides with my body, and I'm thrown against the wall.
"Fuck!" A sharp pain reaches my back, and my arms are forced up against the wall with a tight grip holding them. I look up to get a better glimpse of who it is.
Oh, come on. Out of all people-
Why did it have to be him?
Dawson stands before me, and his hands are gripping my wrists with such a force that I feel them going red. His breathing is steady, contrasting mine as it is much heavier and fast paced.
"Where are you headed?" he exhales, asking with furrowed eyebrows as he catches his breath, almost like he's concerned. However, his obviously fake solace disappears when his lips form a wicked grin. "You seem a bit lost."
He scans my face before his smile fades. Those gentle blue eyes are now colder than ice.
Dawson has both of my hands above my head, holding them steady with just one of his, and he uses the other to brush the hair out of his face. He tilts his head as I gulp, and he watches my Adam's apple bob up and down once again.
He's going to kill me for real this time.
Sweat beads down the sides of my cheeks, and I feel blood rush to my head. But I know I can't just succumb without a fight.
I swing up and kick him square in his chest. He stumbles back, releasing me. My boot hits his cheek as I spin into another kick, knocking him fully to the floor. He stands up quickly, towering over me once again, and he spits out blood to his left. It's almost like my strikes did nothing to him.
"I'm not interested in fighting you, Mr. Farrow." Dawson wipes the excess blood on the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
I exhale. "Well, that's too bad, because I'm very interested in kicking your ass."
I throw a punch, baring my teeth when he dodges and grabs my wrist. I twist out of his grasp, putting space between us and my fist connects with his abdomen twice.
Dawson grits his teeth before finally giving into the fight I started.
He tosses a right hook, nailing me in the jaw, and my head spins like I've been hit by a truck. His fist makes contact with my abdomen a few times and I stumble back against the wall. He shakes my blood off his knuckles before wrapping his large hands around my wrists to bring them above my head once again.
"I thought I told you," -he pauses for a moment - "not to fuck around with me."
I swallow hard again. The adrenaline and courage I had just a bit ago has washed away completely. At this point, I realize that the punch he threw almost rendered me unconscious.
His free hand travels to his pocket, and there is a slight jingle as he pulls an object out. I wince, preparing for my throat to be slit. I squint my eyes, so I don't have to watch it happen, but all I feel is a cold metal object latch around my left wrist.
I quickly open my eyes and see Dawson attaching the other side of the handcuffs to his own right wrist.
"No more running away," he says as he drops my arms down.
I lift up my wrist. "Are the handcuffs really that necessary?"
"If they get you to behave, then yes."
Before I can even respond, Dawson begins walking towards the door, dragging me behind him. I eventually catch up and walk by his side. He opens only one of the double doors, and we are met by the guards.
He speaks in Japanese to them, sounding even more stern than he was when he spoke in English to me. He doesn't even bother to look them in the eye and walks past, continuing up the stairs. The guards respond with something before bowing quickly and rushing back down the steps.
Dawson walks hastily, as he is most likely fed up with me, but I can't keep up. I'm too out of breath.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, but he ignores.
I endure it until we reach a door that leads to outside the building. Several black SUVs are parked, and a few of Dawson's guards are loading into them. From a door farther down, I see Hazel, Harlow, and Finn being escorted by people who are dressed completely different from the rest of the guards. My only deduction is that they must be Dawson's right-hands.
The man I'm attached to continues walking and approaches a black sports car. "Uh, why am I not going with the others?" I say, attempting to ask another question.
He raises both of our handcuffed wrists. "You're riding with me; I don't know what you'll pull again when I'm not watching you."
I scoff and he opens the driver's side door, gesturing for me to climb in and over the seat so that he can get in. The moment I duck my head down to get in, I hear my sisters voice from across the lot.
"Grayson!" Hazel shouts from one of the other cars. "I'm sorry I jinxed us!"
I chuckle a little at the sight of Harlow punching Hazel's arm. But I quickly snap back into focus when Dawson leans against the car, glaring.
"Right, sorry," I say grimly before hurrying into the car and climbing over the seat. Dawson gets in after.
He almost immediately starts the car and drives off. I look into the rear-view mirror to see Dawson's reserved eyes focused on the road.
I want to break the boring silence, but I know that I'll be ignored or shut down almost immediately.
After a short twenty-minute drive, we arrive at a large house —no— a large mansion. It's dark and sleek, with perfectly cared for plants and a gorgeous landscape. It's secluded, with a long driveway leading up to it.
Dawson starts to get out of the car without saying a word, and I quickly climb over the seat fast enough that I don't eat shit from him pulling. Two more cars arrive shortly after us, where Hazel, Harlow, and Finn step out. Dawson's supposed right-hands follow after. They accompany each other into the mansion.
My captor strides up to the mansion, and I rush behind him, trying my best to keep up. I start to feel extremely nervous, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm basically attached to Dawson Hirai at the hip, or if it's the fact that he has barely said a word.
We make our way to the front entrance, and two guards are standing in front of the large door. They both bow at the sight of Dawson and open the doors to allow us through. As we walk in, the massive space leaves me overwhelmed. Once Dawson leads me down a hall, I see the others all gathered in the living room and seeing them puts my nerves at ease.
"God, Grayson, are you okay?" Hazel panics when she sees my cheek.
"I'm fine; courtesy of him." I give a curt nod in Dawson's direction.
She scowls and his lips press into a firm line before curling into a grin. "He started it."
He slips his blood covered hand into his pocket. "You four will all be living here now with my friends, and myself, since you're going to be very important members. But also, so I can keep you all within my sights."
Harlow looks around the large, open space. "Yeah, I ain't complaining."
"Good. It's best that you don't. Sage, escort Finn to his room. Valerie and Axel, escort Harlow and Hazel to theirs."
The redhead, who I presume is Sage, looks at me as he passes by. "Nice to meet you, officially."
He has the same Scottish accent as the man in the car from the shipment. It's not overly strong, so I assume he's likely from somewhere like Edinburgh. He gives me a smirk, tapping the mark I made on his forehead as another reminder. Unlike last night, I can see his features much better in the light of the room. Wavy auburn hair falls gently on his forehead, just barely grazing his brass-colored eyes. He's undoubtedly pale, with freckles and an unbelievably sharp jawline, just like Dawson.
The two escorting Harlow and Hazel are a man and a woman. They have the same voices as the ones outside that room I was held in earlier.
The man, Axel, towers over them. Although, he is still shorter than his leader. He does not have the brooding face you expect from someone in the mafia. Instead, he wears a soft expression led by his gentle green eyes. His skin is lightly tan, and his figure displays a bulky frame. He tousles through his curly brown hair before wrapping a strong hand around the other woman's shoulder.
The woman, Valerie, is particularly short compared to the rest. But just by looking at her frame, I can tell there's much more to her short stature. Long brown curls fall against her dark ebony skin, where not a single scar or wound shows. Her dark eyes are sharp, cutting like blades until they fall onto Axel.
Is everyone in this house attractive?
The others all head off to separate directions, and I continue looking their way to avoid eye contact with Dawson. But I can feel his eyes on me, making my skin crawl.
"So... I suppose you're taking me to my room?" I continue to avoid his eyes.
"No. I'm taking you to mine." His voice shifts to a deeper tone, and chills are sent through my body.
My head whips around to look at him. "Huh."
"We're attached, remember," he looks down at the cuffs. "You can't run away anymore, and I'm going to keep you with me to make sure of that."
"Wh-" He cuts me off by walking in the direction of a room, opening the door to reveal a large, dark space.
A slight clinking sound diverts my attention again, and I look to Dawson, who is removing the handcuffs. "These can stay off for now. Go shower." He points to the bathroom. "But once you get back, they're going back on."
"Thanks." I rub the back of my neck.
He turns around, with his back facing me, and he places the cuffs onto the bedside table. "For?"
I could kill him right now. "For letting me shower."
"I'm not a monster, Grayson." He faces me again.
I press my lips together. "Well, you did kidnap me-"
I cut myself off when I see his glaring eyes. "Right, I'm going." I smile grimly.
I roll my eyes as I turn and walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me before taking one of the first real deep breaths I've taken all night.
I turn around to see the luxurious matte black shower-
Is everything in this man's room black?
I strip down and step into the shower, turning on the warm stream of water and letting it drown me. It falls from the tip of my nose, down to my feet. I look at the shelf of products, thinking about how glad I am that Dawson isn't a three in one type of guy.
I hate three-in-one people.
I turn the water off, grabbing one of the perfectly folded towels off the shelf and using it to dry myself off. I wrap the towel around my waist, tucking in the end at my hip. I pick up my clothes and hold them to my chest. The smell of Dawson's soap fills the room. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my nose.
No wonder he smells so good.
I use my free hand to pull the door open. It reveals Dawson sitting on the seemingly comfortable couch with a laptop on his lap and his right leg crossed over his left.
"There's clothes for you on the bed." He doesn't even look towards my direction. He's wearing glasses, making him look even more attractive.
I walk over to the clothes and turn back to face him. "Can I have some privacy?" I ask with an annoyed look.
Dawson looks at me over the rim of his glasses and closes his laptop. He takes his frames off and sets them on the side table.
"I'm going to shower, don't even think about leaving; I'll know if you do." He looks at me up and down, analyzing my body before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.
I take a deep breath and begin to change. Once they're on my body, I realize that the clothes he offered are surprisingly decent.
I take a look around the room, searching for something to keep me occupied. I notice my phone on the sleek black desk across the room, and I march my way over and grab it, checking for any messages.
(3 unread messages from Hazelnut)
Hazelnut: where r u?
Hazelnut: Finn has been looking for you everywhere
Hazelnut: hello???
She must've sent them just before they got kidnapped as well.
I make my way back over to the bed and sit down on the left side, leaning my back against the board. It still stings from behind thrown against the wall.
After some minutes, the bathroom door clicks and opens, and Dawson steps through the frame with only a towel around his waist.
Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, running down his torso, slipping over his toned abs and absorbing into the towel. He's holding the towel in place with a firm grip, slightly flexing his defined biceps. The snake tattoo is completely visible now, wrapping around his bicep, and running up to his neck. His other hand is holding another towel, which he uses to finish off drying his hair.
He throws the towel he used for his hair into a basket and walks over to the other side of the room, slowly unraveling the towel around his waist.
"Hey!" I react quickly, throwing the blankets over my head to block my view. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Changing. You can look if you want to." I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"God, no." I answer back quickly. "Just hurry up."
Moments later, a hand pulls the blankets off my head to reveal my face, and I look up to meet his eyes. "What now-"
I feel the handcuff wrap around my right wrist, drawing my attention to the sound of a click, and followed by another click as Dawson fastens it around his left wrist.
Right, forgot about that.
He gets on top of the bed, passing over me, with his arms on each side of me for a brief moment before settling down on his half of the bed. I lay down facing the opposite side, leaving my right hand in the middle of bed so I don't pull on Dawson's arm.
I peek at my phone to check the time, knowing that if I don't go to sleep now, I'll have eye-bags when I wake up later. It's almost two in the morning.
I set my phone down on the nightstand, and so far, Dawson hasn't made any movements. He's assumed the same position as me on the bed, making sure to stay as far away from me as possible.
I close my eyes tightly, forcing myself to only see complete darkness. It's impossible for me to go to sleep with any light. My nerves are keeping me awake, but before long, I start to drift away and sleep.
I'm woken up by the loud ringing of my alarm. My eyes flicker open to face the sound of the noise and I grab my phone, shutting off the alarm and closing my eyes to go back to sleep.
"Morning, sleeping beauty." Dawson's sarcastic voice announces from across the room.
My eyes shoot back open, and I realize that I'm not at home. I had completely forgotten the events of yesterday. I sit up slowly, and I feel that my hand is no longer being weighed down by Dawson's heavy force. The handcuff isn't around my wrist, but a red line remains.
"Get dressed, I had someone bring clothes for you. We have somewhere to be today."
I rub my eyes. "Why can't someone else go?" I groan, not in the mood for bullshit this early in the morning.
"Don't ask questions." He snaps back quickly.
I mumble a sarcastic, "Yes, sir."
"We're going to meet with a man named Jonas Cromwell, I'm sure the name is familiar?" His tone shifts towards the end.
"Of course, we've stolen from him several times."
"I'm warning you before we go; don't mess around while we're there, alright?" His voice is stern.
"I understand."
He stands up, putting his hands in his pockets. "Oh, and about all the shit you stole." I look at him, waiting for him to continue. "I had someone go to your place to retrieve it all."
"How do you know where-" He smiles, and I cut myself off, knowing damn well what the answer to my question is.
All that work for nothing.
"Fucking hell." I blurt.
We arrived at a small, almost run-down restaurant, and the vibes of the place are already throwing me off.
"I know, shitty, isn't it?" Dawson's voice cuts off my thinking.
"What the hell are we doing here?" I grimace at the sight of it.
"Wasn't it obvious?" He looks at me dead in the eye. "I'm selling you off."
My face drops, and I reach for the door handle. Seconds later, his serious expression is replaced with a hysterical laugh.
"Only joking." He pats my shoulder. "We don't do that stuff, but Cromwell does, so watch yourself."
Asshole.
"Watch out for what?" I brush his hand off.
He crosses his arms over his chest. "Men like Cromwell would take any opportunity to get their hands on people like you."
I repulse back at his words. "What do you mean 'like' me?"
He looks at me and taps his chin. "Blond, slender frame; someone who's a sight for sore eyes."
I don't even know what that means. I'm still learning these English expressions; I'll have to ask Hazel later.
"Right..." I stare off at the building again.
"Just let me do the talking. So, don't speak unless you absolutely have to, got it?"
I nod, taking a sharp breath, and I can't shake off the uneasy feeling I have in the pit of my stomach.
He opens the driver side door, stepping out and closing it behind him. I press the button to release my seat belt, and I reach for the door handle, but it opens before I can even get my hand on it. Dawson stands before me, waiting for me to get out.
Did he teleport or what?
I step out, and Dawson closes the door behind me. He doesn't say a word and strides to the entrance of the restaurant where a bodyguard opens the door to allow us through.
The inside stinks of cigarettes and multiple men sit at tables drinking beer, many of them are playing poker. Their eyes follow us as a man leads us to a room in the back of the restaurant. I put my hand in my jacket pockets, and I start tugging at the inside fabric nervously. The door to the room opens and Cromwell sits at a table, smoking a cigar.
His attention falls on the taller man beside me. "Dawson! Come sit." He gestures towards the chairs on the opposite side of the table.
Dawson presses his hand on my back softly, urging me to sit down first.
I hiss a quiet, "Hands off."
Dawson raises his hands in the air slightly, respecting my wishes. Then he pulls out a chair for me and once I sit, he pushes it in before sitting down next to me. In hope of suppressing any coughing, I put a finger under my nose as the overwhelming cigar smoke spreads around the room.
Cromwell sets his cigar in a bowl, flicking the ashes off the end. "How are you, my friend?" He holds out his hand for Dawson to shake it and a smile is plastered on his face, showcasing his crooked teeth.
Dawson is quick to answer, "You know damn well we aren't friends, and I know you're aware of what I came here to say."
My leg bounces subtly and I avert my eyes away from the two of them, taking a look at the two bodyguards who stand beside Cromwell. Looking back at the older man, I see his smile fade into a look of grimace, and he puts his hand down.
"You've been sending some of your men to spy on mine; one incident involved a few of mine being attacked. What exactly are you trying to do here?" Dawson's demeanor changes, when we first arrived here, he kept himself composed. It's obvious that now he's pissed off just by the sight of Cromwell.
Jonas leans back in his chair. "I'm doing what I have to do; protecting my business." He points at Dawson with his cigar. "I know it's you who's been sabotaging my trades."
"Trades"?
...
Right, human trafficking.
"Someone has to stop a sick person like you from doing this to innocent people, you're selling children." Dawson looks like he could just lunge across the table right now to slit Cromwell's throat.
"Business is business and money is money, Hirai." He turns his head to face me, then he looks back at Dawson with a smirk. "Who's this? A new side piece?"
He tilts his head in annoyance as Cromwell proceeds to eye me up and down. An uncomfortable feeling washes over me. "This one would for sure make me good money at my club-"
"Find yourself a new toy somewhere else." Dawson cuts him off abruptly with a dangerous edge. He turns to me. "Get up, we're leaving."
Dawson has done what he needed to; he confirmed that Cromwell is the one who's been getting in his way, and warned him to not push any further. My guess is that this was based on a hunch, and coming here confirmed his suspicions.
I stand up quickly and make my way to exit the room, guided by Dawson's hand on my back once again.
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor forces me to turn back and look at the cause of it. Cromwell stands before me, staring straight into my eyes.
"What do you think blondie?" He licks his lips slightly.
"I recognize little fags when I see one. You like fucking men, don't you?" His grating voice travels through my ears, and his hand moves to my ass.
I open my mouth to fire back, but Dawson moves in front of me, shoving Cromwell away before I can even get a chance to speak my mind.
"Piss off." Dawson asserts, his eyebrows furrow slightly with anger.
The two bodyguards start to rush, ready to attack Dawson but Cromwell raises his hand as he smoothens out his shirt. "Don't." He grins, and his crooked smile appears again. "Let them go."
Dawson faces me again. "Let's go." He demands. "Now."
We begin to rush out of the room and down the hall, as we get to the corner, the both of us collide with another body. I'm forced back into Dawson, who catches me before we both fall.
"What the f-" My eyes shift to meet the person we crashed into, and my heart drops.
"Grayson?"
• • •