It took me several moments to compose myself before I could bring myself to look at Dom again. The flames of fury made me grip the phone until I placed my wrist on the table's edge to prevent my hand from shaking. When I glanced up, Dom was studying me with a satisfied look on his face.
“You need me to kill someone?” I finally managed to grit out.
His eyes widened briefly before he shook his head.
“Is he dead?”
“With any luck. We think she escaped from where she was being held, but unfortunately, she had a collision with a car. She was covered in her own blood and someone else's. The woman’s car she hit brought her in, and the A & E staff processed her for sexual assault,” he said before he pointed towards the phone.
I pulled it a little closer to me because, for some reason, I wasn't willing to part with the girl's picture yet.
“I took that picture this afternoon. She was brought in nearly seven months ago. She is being kept in a secure unit at Rampton Hospital, but the initial referral came from London’s Broadmoor. It’s one of the most secure psychiatric facilities, and it isn't suitable for her. She isn't a criminal. However, the demand for beds is at breaking point, and she is going to get tossed into a system that will leave her—vulnerable,” he said with a frown.
“The police investigation?” I asked as another wave of rage engulfed me.
“It’s at a dead end. They couldn't find any property close to the accident. The ones they travelled to denied seeing or hearing thegirl,” he said as he downed his glass and poured himself another drink. “She was raped and tortured since she was a child. The internal scarring varied. Some were old, and some were recent. His DNA was collected from her, but there were no matches.
“I can find the perpetrator. Just give me the details,” I said tightly before I looked at the girl’s image again with a frown, wondering what would happen to her.
“Dr Arin consulted me because she saw a trigger response in the Jane Doe.”
My head snapped up because she didn't look like a Jane, and I wanted to know what brought her out of her catatonic state.
“We believe after her concussion wore off and she was unable to identify herself or tell anyone further information that, she has dissociative amnesia as well as the obvious post-traumatic stress disorder. Her vocal cords aren't damaged, but she hasn't uttered a single sound since she came into Rampton. She hasn’t been eating well. Nutrition is a concern,” he said with a dark look.
“Do you have any idea what age she is?” I asked because she looked far too young to be in such a sorry state.
“She is in her early twenties. The doctors initially thought she was younger because of her size and the fact that she came in with a stuffed toy. Dr Arin had to fight tooth and nail to get it back for her from the police. She was in a much worse manic state before she got it back,” he said, pausing before he continued. “When she was found. She had drugs in her system. There was a process of detoxing, and it wasn't pretty.”
I glanced at the photo again and noticed the toy’s cream arm or leg poked out from behind her. It was easily missed because it was a similar colour to the bedding.
“The television was left on, and a dog training programme was on. She began reacting to the commands,” he said as I released a heavy burst of air because it all clicked into place.
“She wastrained,” I said, almost spitting the word out because this wasn't the work of a Dom but a sick and twisted paedophile and sadist.
I poured some more whiskey into my glass as the thought of there being more than one man involved hit me like a sledgehammer. Dom didn't continue. He didn't need to. I glanced at the girl’s picture and knew my answer. There was no way I would let her into the open world as vulnerable as she was.
The trauma would leave her susceptible to predators. My need for control and dole out pain didn’t make me any better, but my end goal would be to coax her out of her shell in any way that I could. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight.
“When can I pick her up?” I asked as I brought the glass to my lips.
“Saul, I've spent time with her over the last two days. I don't know anyone other than you who can bring her out of this. I know with your past—” he said quietly but paused. “I only wish I’d known about her sooner.”
That was the problem. He wasn't aware of how much it took out of me to hold back the nasty, corrupt darkness that contaminated my soul.
Chapter 2
Saul
It took four days for Dom to arrange everything and give me all the details of her condition. He somehow managed to obtain the police investigation report and interview notes. We were all in secure financial positions, but I knew Grayson had a shady past. If anyone was going to do anything underhanded out of the trio of close-knit friends, it was him. It had been agreed that had I not taken her in, Dom would have placed her in a private care facility. He played me, but I wasn’t angry at the deceit.
The four days had given me a chance to prepare myself mentally. The challenge had been to harden my heart towards her tragic situation because it wouldn't help her in the long run. It has been years since I had any relationship, let alone one that incorporated my sadomasochist tendencies.
I wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but I couldn't stop examining her photo. My research led me to trauma therapy, and I listed every type of BDSM recovery therapy recorded. I had a specialist psychiatrist to lean on for guidance. Dom thought of everything, and I was glad he had been called in to try to help the girl.
The doors opened, and Dom came out with my property in a wheelchair. She had the exact same look on her face as in the picture. A cool spring gust of wind blew her hair to one side, and I saw the healed scar on the side of her forehead. It went through the end of her light brown eyebrow. She had one hand around the soft, fluffy, cream teddy bear. I kept my expression stoic when I noticed the faded bloodstain on its body.
“Jane, this is your new Owner,” he said in a stern voice.