: Chapter 12

Garrett and Diesel leave with Ryder, following behind him like little pets, only after Diesel blows me a kiss. Psycho. It leaves me with Kenzo, who I can feel staring at the side of my face. “You can explore the apartment if you wish.”

“What? Not going to lock me back up?” I snap.

“Only if you’re good.” He leans closer then. “So be good.”

His phone rings, and he picks it up, standing from the table and walking outside. He leans against the balcony as he talks, and I watch him, wondering if this is a trap. Who fucking cares? Even though I know it’s pointless, I leap up and try the front door. But it’s locked. Sighing, I look around at the rest of the apartment before deciding to explore like he said. I have nothing else to do, and I might find something handy.

I head upstairs first, my bare feet slapping against the glass. At the top is what looks like a library with a fur carpet in the middle and huge, floor-to-ceiling antique bookcases. It’s quite impressive actually. There’s a corridor to the left and one to the right. I choose left. The first door is locked, but I can hear the hum of computers behind it. Maybe a security room?

The door next is also locked, but this one has a scanner on it, so I back away, knowing they don’t want anyone getting at whatever’s in there. The very next door is unlocked, so I slip inside and look around.

It’s double the size of my room, but just as neat. A large, metal, low riding bed sits against the right wall. There are more floor-to-ceiling windows opposite me again. There’s no TV or even much furniture. Just a desk with nothing on it but a pen and a pad, but the drawers are locked—I tried them. The floor is a super soft carpet, which my feet sink into as I wander around.

The bedding is so straight and perfect, I jump on it just to mess it up a bit. The silky grey material wrinkles under me as I roll around before getting up and smiling down at my handiwork.

Like my room, there are two doors, one leads to a bathroom and the first signs of life with toiletries and a half filled hamper. The other door is a wardrobe, which is filled with suits on the left, and shining shoes on the back with two pairs of trainers underneath. Hard to imagine Ryder in for sure. To the right is what looks like grey joggers and shirts, pajama pants, and boxers. I run my hand across the perfectly ironed and hung clothing before an evil thought comes to my mind.

It’s petty, but honestly, they didn’t just expect me to sit and wait for them like a dog, did they? I have this need to push them, to find out what they are willing to do. I head back to the bathroom, searching the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for then, giggling, head back to his closet. Picking the first suit, I drag the scissors through the material, slashing and hacking until it’s ruined.

I leave only one untouched, grinning. I stare at the thousands upon thousands of pounds of perfectly tailored suits, which now lay in tatters. Proud of myself, I leave the scissors behind and exit his room. Now, what can I do to the other ones?

Heading back past the library, I travel down the other corridor to three more doors. I poke my head in the first two. The first one is certainly Diesel’s room, it’s painted black with leather cuts and jackets thrown everywhere. His bed is unmade, his room messy. There are lighters across his side table and cigarettes, and I frown when I spot some panties on his pillow which look suspiciously like mine.

Shaking my head, I leave his room alone. Who knows what he’s keeping in there. The next is neater, cleaner, but more lived in. There is a pack of cards on the side table, so it must be Kenzo’s. Not wanting to be caught snooping, I slip into the last room.

This must be Garrett’s.

The big guy is scary, really fucking scary. As in he could rip me apart without blinking, but he also doesn’t seem to know I exist, and that makes me curious. He isn’t like the others, why?

He has a punching bag hung in one corner, and it looks well worn. A king-sized bed is pushed up in the other corner with dark sheets. His whole back wall is painted black with industrial style lights hanging above. The other wall is exposed brick. There’s a TV opposite the bed with stacks and stacks of DVDs under it. I spot some old-school horror movies, seems he’s a horror junkie.

There isn’t much else here apart from clothing and toiletries. It’s like they barely live here, this place is so…empty. Is it new? Or do they just really not spend that much time here? Sighing, I sit on his bed and look at the side table. Pulling it open curiously, I root through the junk in there before hitting a velvet box.

Pulling it out, I open it, and my eyes widen. It’s a ring, a fucking huge ring. What the—

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Kenzo drawls from the door.

Looking up, I meet his eyes unapologetically. “You told me to look around, so I am.”

Clicking the box shut, I carefully put it back in the drawer. Is Garrett married?

“I did.” He smirks. “I’ll have to be more careful of what I say in the future, but what I meant, Rox, is that you can’t be in here.”

“Why?” I ask, tilting my head.

“If Garrett finds you in here…well, it won’t be pretty. He might seem calm and in control, but he hates women, so just stay away, okay?” He sighs.

“Hates women? Why?” I press, and he shakes his head.

“You ask a lot of questions for a captive,” Kenzo mutters, not like it’s a bad thing. His eyes light up. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Against you? No thanks.” I snort.

“Why not? Scared?” he taunts.

“I saw the dice you keep in your pocket, the way your eyes track, things and the cards in your room…it’s not hard to deduce that you like to play games. Probably win a lot.” I shrug, standing up.

“That’s true. What if I told you I owned every casino, backstreet dealing, and bookie in the city?” he questions, blocking the door, his arm outstretched.

“Then I would tell you that you have a gambling problem.”

“Or maybe I just like to win,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening as they run down my body. I swallow hard but don’t back down.

“Or you just like money, greedy bastard,” I snap, crossing my arms to block his eyes, but they drop to my exposed cleavage, and he licks his lips.

“That too,” he agrees.

“Are you going to move?” I growl.

He watches me, seeming to deliberate my question. “Why aren’t you more scared of us?”

My heartbeat triples at that. If only they knew that I am scared of them, but I get it. Why aren’t I a sobbing, catatonic mess? “I’ve been scared nearly every day of my life, eventually, you stop letting it control you and get so used to it that it’s just another day.”

He blinks, probably not expecting that. “I can understand that.”

“You can?” I counter, tilting my head. Shit, why am I talking to this bastard instead of smashing his head in and trying to escape?

Because he’s too calm, way too calm, like he knows even if I do get past him somehow, I will never get free. Which tells me more than anything that this building won’t be easy to escape from. Which makes sense if it’s the Vipers HQ.

“We’re not so different, Rox. You should remember that.” He drops his arm. “Your room is still being repaired, and before you go to beg them for help, they are ours and don’t care. Instead, let’s go relax.”

“Relax?” I yell after him, as he starts to walk away.

“Relax! It’s my day off, after all!” He laughs as I stand there, but I don’t want to be caught in Garrett’s room if what he said is true.

Hates women…why?

Fuck, why do I care?

And why am I following Kenzo? Because, honestly, what else would I do? I might as well enjoy this lux penthouse before I escape.

I was expecting torture, or at least one of them to try and fuck me before now, yet they haven’t, and that’s throwing me off. They say I’m their prisoner, theirs to do with what they want. They watch me with cruel eyes, yet they don’t touch me…well, apart from Diesel, but he’s crazy.

I must have been exhausted. Kenzo had flicked on the TV and put on some random chick flick. I didn’t want to tell him that I hate them, even as I curled up as far away from him on the sofa as I could. My excuse? I needed to rest, to keep strong, but it sounded like a lie, even to me.

When I wake up, I’m still in the same position, but there’s a blanket over me and the sun is lower in the sky. Kenzo is there, next to me, closer than before. His leg is crossed, his foot propped on his other knee, with an open tablet on his lap, the screen split between what looks like CCTV cameras of the inside of clubs.

“I thought today was your day off?” I murmur, my voice rough with sleep.

He blinks and looks over at me. “Darling, Vipers never take a day off—too many people to kill, too much money to earn.”

Yawning, I sit up and stretch, reaching my arms out and cracking my back. When I blink and look over, Kenzo is watching me with hungry eyes. They run across my body like orbs of fire, and I shrink away, wondering if this will be the moment he attacks, but all he does is look back at his tablet.

Licking my lips, I cross my legs and turn to face him so I can see any of the blows that come—an old habit. He notices, of course, and turns slightly towards me, typing on his tablet. “Are the others still out?”

“Why? Anxious to see them?”

“Definitely not, just wondering if I need to hide yet.” I sigh.

That has him lifting his head. “Hide?”

“Yes. From the crazy dude and, well, the one that’s going to be pissed,” I reply, wondering if Ryder will kill me when he sees his clothes, but I don’t regret it. The perfect bastard deserved it after this morning.

“Diesel is harmless…okay, that’s a lie. He’s harmless to us. If he ever killed us, it would be because there was no other choice.” Kenzo shrugs.

“And you’re calm about that? What about everyone else?” I challenge.

“They are fair game,” he retorts.

“Christ, he’s literally insane, you can see that, right?” I almost yell.

Kenzo looks up, and I see that same darkness in his eyes the others have, the one he hides behind a charming persona. He might be calmer, he might talk sweeter and be more of a ladies’ man, but underneath it all still lives a monster. “Do not talk about what you don’t know, Roxy. That man has been through hell and back. It’s bound to leave damage, and he’s our brother. We’ll protect him from anyone, understood?”

I nod, a little bit scared. Just as soon as it was there, he blinks, and is back to smiling again. It’s fucking scary how quickly he can change. “Your room is done, I put your bag in there as well.”

“My bag?” I repeat with a frown.

“Yes, you might want to shower and change. You’re starting to smell.” He smirks.

That rat fucking bastard.

He has the audacity to tell me that I smell after I was punched, knocked out, locked up, and became a prisoner? I should have cut his clothes up as well. Throwing him a glare, I storm back to my room, sniffing my armpit as I go.

Fucking Vipers.