Page 45 of Peripheral Vision

They didn’t provide me with any shoes, and they gave me ahairbrush that I had to give back once I was done pulling it through my hair. They didn’t want me to have anything that I could use to harm them or myself… but I didn’t need the shoes or the hairbrush to understand what they intended. The outfit was a costume, a prop to strip away any semblance of power or dignity I had left. They wanted me exposed, vulnerable, and small. I sit on the edge of the bed clutching the fabric of the dress in my fists. The silky material is cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of anger building in my chest. It didn’t matter how much they tried to reduce me—I wasn’t going to break. Not yet. Not ever. But a small voice in the back of my head doubted if that was true.

The door creaks open, startling me out of my thoughts. Connor stands there, a satisfied smile on his face. “Come with me.” I don’t want to listen, but I don’t want to provoke him when I have no clue what is going to happen to me yet, so I do. We walk down the hallway, passing several other closed doors. Every one has a guard outside of the door. Every guard is armed. I can’t ignore the way their eyes watch me as I walk by them. We take several more turns until we come before an office that is well furnished and completely different from the decor, if you could call it that, of the rest of the building. There is a nicely polished mahogany desk with a cushioned office chair behind it. In front of the desk are two leather armchairs, their dark sheen catching the faint glow of a shaded lamp in the corner. A plush rug covers most of the floor, its intricate patterns a stark contrast to the concrete and grime I’ve seen elsewhere. The walls are lined with shelves full of books and other meticulous items that look out of place, as if someone had gone to great lengths to construct an air of authority and sophistication. But more importantly, a facade.

As I’m ushered inside, my eyes take in more of the room, and that’s when I notice the table on one side of the office. It looked normal at first, but upon closer inspection I see little red splotches—blood. There are metal loops that hang from all four corners of thetable as though they are used for tying something, or someone, down. Those same metal loops are placed into the top of the desk, closest to the side where the armchairs are, and on the floor where the singular chair is positioned. Of course, if you didn’t know what you were looking for, which was highly unlikely for somebody who wasn’t investigating this place, those loops could be easily laid down, covered, just as the table could be.

“Take a seat.” Connor gestures to the armchairs in front of his desk, closing the door behind me, leaving the two of us alone together. I hesitate, my feet glued to the carpet for a moment too long, staring at those metal loops. They seem to glint in the light, mocking me for noticing them. My heart pounds in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to run, to find a way out, but there is no escape. Connor’s voice, smooth and steady, has the kind of practiced control that sends chills down my spine. It’s the voice of someone who has done this before—who has power and knows how to wield it. “Sit down,” he repeats, more forceful this time, his tone sharp enough to cut through my hesitation. When I look at him, his lips are curled into a smile, but his eyes are void of any warmth.

I force my legs to move, lowering myself onto the edge of the seat, eyes downcast as I listen to him walk around the other side of the desk. He lets out a heavy sigh as he makes himself comfortable, letting me sit in the uncomfortable silence, wondering what’s going to happen next. I didn’t want to ask because I didn’t want to know. “You’re wondering what those metal loops are for, aren’t you? The table?”

I don’t want to know.

“Why I had you clean up? Why I had you dress up?”

I still don’t want to know, and I convince myself that if I continue to ignore him, pretend like this isn’t happening, then it will all go away.

“Aren’t you wondering why your room is right down the hall from my own?”

I still say nothing, and I hear an aggravated breath leave him as he stands back up abruptly, walking around the desk until he’s in front of me. I watch his posture as he leans back against the desk, his feet crossing over one another. “Originally, I had planned to sell you—for organs or for sex—it wouldn’t have mattered to me. Fletcher would have come looking for you anyway and I still would have gotten what I wanted—him dead and money in my pocket from you. But then I thought about how stupid it was when I could still end up with both of those things, but why would I do it before I had a chance totaunthim with all of the wonderful things we’re going to do together before he finds you? Well, before and certainly when, because I want to see the look on his facein personas I make you scream my name.”

It takes me a few moments to register what he just said, what he just implied, before I'm able to say anything. “You’re demented,” I whisper. He immediately grabs me by the top of my head and yanks it back at an awkward angle while he looks down on me. His grip is like iron, unyielding and cruel, and the sharp pain shooting down my neck forces a gasp from my lips.

“I’m a businessman.” His grip grows even tighter, and I feel strands of hair breaking. I try to jerk my head free, but that makes me wince.

“You’re my uncle!” I cry out, trying to make him see reason.

His laugh is deep and guttural, a sound that echoes throughout the room. “Family ties mean nothing in the world I live in. Blood may bind us, but power, my dear, is what truly matters. And right now? I hold all of it.”

Tears prick at my eyes, both from the pain and the sheer terror coursing through me. I can feel the cruelty radiating off of him, like a toxic heat, as his grip forces my head back further, pushing my limits. “Why are you doing this?” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling. “You’re supposed to protect me, not?—”

“Protect you?” he cuts me off with another guttural laugh, this one even darker than the last. “That’s a quaint notion. I protect what benefits me, what feeds my ambitions. And you…” His free hand traces the edge of my face, making my skin crawl. “You’re just a pawn in my game, a beautiful little pawn.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, but anger begins to bubble beneath the surface of my fear. “You’ll never win,” I spit, my voice breaking. “He’ll find me. And when he does?—”

“He’ll do what?” His voice is mocking, his smirk infuriating. “You think your precious savior can stop me? By the time he gets here, you’ll be so thoroughly ruined that he won’t recognize the person he’s trying to save. He won’t even want you anymore, knowing that you’re damaged goods.” His grip loosens slightly, and I seize the moment, twisting my head and biting down hard on the hand he’s using to hold me. He lets out a surprised roar of pain, but I don’t stop until I taste blood.

“You little—” he growls, shoving me back so hard I fall over the side of the chair and hit the ground with a painful thud. I scramble backward, ignoring the sharp pain in my elbows and the pounding in my skull. My mind races as I look for an escape, but the room feels like it’s closing in on me. I’ll never make it far with all his guards in the hallway either, but he’s already recovering, wiping the blood from his hand with an almost amused look in his eyes. “Fiery, just like your mother. I like that. But you know the thing about fire, Dylan? All flames are extinguished eventually. Breaking you is going to be so satisfying. ”

I glance toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest. If I can make it?—

“Don’t even think about it,” he snarls, stepping between me and my only exit. “You don’t leave until I say you do. And trust me, we’re far from done here.” Two guards enter the room, the same from earlier, likely at the sound of our commotion or because there are cameras in here too. I wouldn’t be surprised. Their imposing figures block out any hope of escape, their cold eyes fixed on me. I try to back away further, but my shoulders hit the edge of his desk. I’m trapped. His slow, measured steps echo in the room as he closes the distance between us. “You should’ve learned by now,” he says,crouching down to meet my gaze. His expression is no longer amused, but deadly serious. “Defiance only makes things worse for you.” He stands, towering over me, and nods to the guards. “Bring her to her feet.” I look around quickly, assessing for anything I can use as a weapon, but everything is too far from me, out of my reach.

Their hands grab me roughly, dragging me upright despite my struggles. I kick out, landing a glancing blow on one guard’s shins, but he doesn’t even flinch. My heart races as they drag me around the desk, kicking and screaming, and pin me in place face-down on top of it. “You could’ve made this easy,” Connor says, his voice low and venomous. He grabs something from inside his drawers before I feel the leather straps wrap around my ankles, being secured to the loops in the floor. I try to kick out but one of the guards grabs a hold of my head before slamming it down into the desk, disorienting me. “But I suppose that wouldn’t be as fun for me.” My arms are wrenched forward next, and I feel rough fibers of what must be some kind of rope biting into my wrists as I’m tied down. I pull against them, but the knots are expertly done, leaving no room for hope. Once he’s satisfied, he steps back, admiring his work. “There, now we can get started properly. Let’s see how long that fire of yours lasts, shall we?”

I lift my head as far as I can off of the desk, my vision blurry as I watch the two guards leave the room. “You're such… a coward…” I spit out, a metallic taste on my tongue. I must’ve bitten it. I hear him rifling through stuff as I continue, “You couldn’t handle me… on your own… you’re pathetic.” He slams something down on the desk on one side of me, ignoring my taunts. He must feel as though he has the upper hand, having an innocent girl tied down. “My dad would hate the person you’ve become.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of the dead. And soon? Neither will you.” The sound of his zipper echoes through the room and I begin thrashing again, but it’s no use. Nobody is here to save me. He picks up whatever he had set down on the desk and a few seconds go by before pain, sharp and unforgiving, travels up my spine from mythighs where he whipped me. He does it again and again until my screams are drowned out by the sounds of my own tears and blood is running down my legs in rivulets. Only then does he trade out one type of torture for another, and this time when I feel the rough invasion as he forces himself inside of me, do I wish I would’ve passed out from the agony he afflicted.

Chapter

Thirty

FLETCHER

The world stopped spinning. From the moment it registered that she was gone. At first, I couldn’t get the words out to Nathan. They had floated in the thick haze that had become my mind, mixing with the dull ache pounding in the back of my skull ever since. We’d decided to reconvene back at her house, and it was too silent without her here, as if the air had even paused to take in her disappearance.

“What do you mean, theytookher?” Nathan asks, his voice sharp and brittle with disbelief.

“I mean, I had driven her to the bar to quit her job and she never came back out!” I roar, fury and fear blending into a dangerous concoction. I tell him that Callum definitely had something to do with it, that he had been working up top in the network. In fact, I am so sure that he isThe Muscle.I don’t know how I know, but it is too coincidental to be anything but that. I am going all but mad, about to rip through the very layers of the earth to bring her back when Nathan has to bring me back down.

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