Page 21 of Dangerous Silence
Where was the fear? Was she following my instructions? Or was she that enraptured? What was she trying to hide?
But Demi didn’t hide anything.
And her eyes never left me.
CHAPTER 6
Demi
The head of Axe’s cock was a deep red, sometimes a dark purple when he gripped it, the angry veins twisting around his shaft like they were struggling to get free. My eyes were glued to him, and his eyes were stuck on me too, feeding off of me, bulging out of their sockets like he would die if he couldn’t have me. As if he was about to unleash a demon on the world. And on me.
I should have been afraid. I should have been wondering what was wrong with him. But I wasn’t. A man’s amputated leg lay on the ground, just out of my reach, and yet I was staring back at Axe, never letting my eyes leave him. Was I scared that if I moved or broke our eye contact, that he would kill me? Death was hovering over us, seeping into our souls. And yet Axe wanted to fuck himself while looking at me.
I didn’t feel like myself. Power swelled inside of me, knowing how much he wanted me. I was in a cage, a damned cage, and yet Axe was so enraptured by me that I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. How could a man put you in a cage, then look at you with such lust in his eyes that you felt drawn to him, as if lust were a tangible, physical web being spread out between the two of you? Wrapping the silky threads around us until we both spiraled into nothingness.
He came closer. Put his hand down, leaning on the cage. Thrust his fist over his cock, the shaft a dark red. He had the key to the lock in his other hand, but he didn’t reach down to open it. And he didn’t hurt me.
When the pleasure bubbled up, Axe groaned, a satisfyingly primal noise, and the come shot out of him, dripping over the cage, getting on his hand, landing on me. His eyes closed, and his body shook with each pulse, like it was taking the life out of him.
I had no idea that an orgasm could be that powerful.
I reached up, stroking my finger across his palm leaning against the cage. He glanced down, a shudder rolling through him, our eyes meeting for a moment in that aftermath.
He stood, zipped up, and buttoned his pants. I opened my mouth, putting my hands on the bars, trying to figure out how much I was willing to risk when it came to my tongue. But he bent down and closed the wooden sides shut over the cage again, the padlock clicking into place. The key turning in the lock echoed in the crate as if it were directly connected to my eardrums.
I angled myself, looking through that peephole. Axe ran a hand over his face, then went to a corner I couldn’t see. A faucet turned on. Water splashed in the sink. When he returned to view, he rubbed a clean cloth across his face. It was fascinating to see someone take a person’s life, then do something normal, like clean his face. Axe had always seemed aggressive—the way he randomly turned on me always caught me off guard—but I hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t simply a murderer; he had a full-on torture room.
He checked his gun, then put it in his holster and went toward the door. He clicked off the lights, and the quiet buzz dimmed to silence. I pressed my hand against the bars and the wood, watching as he left. The door closed behind him. Darkness swallowed the room.
What had just happened?
***
I dreamed of Dad. Before he closed the butcher shop, his white apron had been his classic staple, strapped across his chest, splattered with blood like a badge of honor. But in my dream, it hung over his sickened body, thin and frail, like a doll wearing an adult’s clothes.Run, Demi,he said. My heart quickened.Run while you still can. Before he takes your legs too. Before he takes your will to fight.
My head bumped into the top of the cage, waking me up. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There were no windows in that room, at least none that I could see, so it was hard to tell what time of the day it was, or if another night had passed.
First, Axe removed the body of the man, then wiped the table clean. Then, a few different times, he brought me food. Removed the wooden slats, then set the food right against the metal bars so that I could grab it. A chunk of cheese. A molasses roll. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Survival should have kicked in, making me eat those things, and while my stomach grumbled, I didn’t feel hungry. Not in the way that I normally did. And I knew that if I accepted his food, the more likely I would be to see him as something other than my captor. A sick game messing with my head, trying to convince me that Axe was providing for me. He brought me food. Killed for me. Kept me alive.
So I refused to eat. Refused to see him as anything other than a deranged killer.
My legs ached from being in the fetal position, but there was enough room that I stretched my legs into a tight butterfly. The door swung open, hitting the wall in a loud thud. I angled myself to the peephole. He was carrying another man. This one was smaller than the others, but Axe rammed him onto that table, and his body tumbled like it weighed a million pounds.
This is a case study,I told myself. It was easier to live with the situation that way, pretending like I was still in school, getting ready to take down criminals like Axe. Did Axe work for someone, or did he work alone? Was he simply twisted, or did he have a heart? Why hadn’t he killed me yet? Why had he saved me? Was there anything left inside of him?
Axe began moving the man’s legs into buckles at the end of the table.
“Fuck you,” the man screamed. He pushed himself up onto his hands. “You killed Mike. And I’ll kill you!”
Axe stared at the man for a moment, then he punched him, sending his face straight down. It stunned the man, but only long enough for Axe to find the other buckles to bind his arms. Next, he strapped his forehead and neck.
Axe braced himself, leaning over the man.
“Who is Cannon?” Axe asked.
“Cannon? Cannon?”
Axe went to the wall, picked a long, thin instrument with a sharp end on one side and a blunt edge of the other, and brought it to the man. He pressed it into his cheek.
