Page 60 of Guarding The Phoenix: Vol. 2

I kicked off the stupid heels and began to run. At least, it felt like I ran, when in all likelihood, it was a stumbling gait with no destination in mind other than escape. My vision swam. The scene before me transformed into a weird spinning sensation. It dragged at my limbs. My body grew heavy.

Hands grabbed me from behind and slammed me up against the wall. “You made a critical error, sweet Kylie. I’m not some malleable moron. You will obey me in all things. And you will pay for acting like a fucking whore with those agents. If you don’t behave, when I’m done with you, I’ll give you to my men. And they’ve never had such fine pussy.”

Tears sprang into my eyes. My face ached from hitting the wall. But the drug he spiked the champagne with yanked me down. Unable to fight or flee, I slumped as the drug yanked me into a dark oblivion.

And I welcomed it like a long-lost lover.

Chapter twenty-one

Hopeless

Kylie

Threedays.

I had survived three days of torture with no end in sight. It wasn’t just the champagne Luka spiked with drugs. He had them put it in the food too. It was done to make me a more malleable captive.

He didn’t understand the fight had already left my body. Any hope I had at being rescued, at potentially escaping Luka’s clutches, had died. I wouldn’t run. What was the point? Where would I run to that Luka wouldn’t find me?

I just wanted it over. I was ready for the pain to end. I couldn’t keep fighting. I just didn’t have it in me any longer. Any hope I had for the future died with Axel, Gideon, Chase, and Mateo.

They were gone. No one was coming to save me. And while I could try to hire new bodyguards, I doubted I would trust they weren’t on Luka’s payroll or if they could be bought by him. Money greased a lot of wheels.

Every part of me hurt. Last night I talked back. And I earned myself a split lip and black eye. No amount of makeup hid the bruises. And none of his men would do a damn thing to help me. I’d tried appealing to one man who watched me with something bordering on a crush.

Luka shot him in cold blood right in front of me.

He still hadn’t touched me in a sexual manner—yet. It was one little mercy I was grateful for the past few days. But it was simply a matter of time. And that time was almost up. When he told me this morning that we would reach the island where my husband hid the key to the safe deposit box by midday, I’d witnessed the lewd gleam in his eyes.

That was another reason he drugged me, so I wouldn’t fight him when we boarded his private jet in Prince Rupert, British Columbia. His private jet flew to his compound in Mexico to refuel. We spent a night there. And looking at the number of men he had at his disposal left me despondent. Then we flew to Nassau from Mexico in the middle of the night and arrived there early this morning, where we boarded another one of his yachts. Apparently, he had multiple stationed around the world. And we sailed from Nassau this morning to the island my husband owned. It was technically my island now. Not that I gave a damn. Because the island signaled my time was up and Luka would take me likely the moment we returned to the yacht.

How many times would I be forced to endure his attentions before he gave me to his men? Men who watched me with lust in their eyes and evil in their hearts.

I gave myself a day maybe more once Luka finished with me. At least my suffering would be over swiftly then. It was making it through the horrors Luka planned to enact that terrified me. I was strong because I had to be. But everyone breaks.

How many indignities would I be forced to endure at his hands?

I didn’t know what was worse, being awake and cognizant during the violation or in a drug induced state where I could disassociate.

I stared at my bound hands. They were connected by a chain to a thick leather collar he affixed around my neck. Attached to the collar was a metal chain that served as a leash. After my mad dash toward the side of the boat that first night, Luka kept me bound and imprisoned in his room. I had been allowed up on deck one hour a day for some fresh air and sunshine, led around by him on a leash.

“Come,” Luka ordered and tugged at the leash gripped in his hand. I didn’t have it in me to fight.

It seemed to be my lot in life to suffer. And I was done. I couldn’t even be sad about it but was relieved that soon all the pain I’d endured would be done.

And perhaps if heaven or an afterlife did exist my guys would be waiting on the other side. I missed having them sleep beside me. I missed their laughter and the way they protected me.

I wished that instead of running I had listened. So what if they were undercover CIA agents? At least we would have been together when Luka’s forces attacked. We might have made it out alive. If I knew my husband, there would have been a panic room in the basement. And that sucker had been buried below ground and built to withstand fire.

I followed along behind Luka as we emerged on deck. The sunlight blinded me. I blinked while my eyes adjusted without any sunglasses. At least it was blissfully warm. Sparkling azure waters surrounded a lush, deserted, tropical island. There was a pristine, white sandy beach. It was an uninhabited paradise.

When did my husband purchase this place? And why hadn’t he wanted me to know about it? What other secrets had he kept from me?

Knowing him, likely many, most of which I wouldn’t want to know. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

We boarded a smaller, motorized rubber landing boat. From what I’d overheard with Luka’s discussion with the yacht captain, the bay was too shallow and the coral reefs too high for the yacht to get closer to the shore.

I didn’t know how far inland the building was or how long it would take to reach it. All I knew was when we returned to the yacht, Luka would rape me, willing or no.

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