Insurmountable (Serpentine #1) (2 page)

I woke up in a strange bed. The strangest of all beds. A large, comfortable, soft, and warm bed. In a private bedroom. All alone.

For a moment, I was horrified.

What’d I miss?

I remembered falling asleep in the infirmary waiting for the doctor, and then, nothing.

What had they done to me?

It had to be a trick. I waited for the punchline. For a group of men to walk in the room and take me.

I didn’t move. Every breath was terrifying.

But the only thing that greeted me was silence. Utter silence.

No one to tell me what to do. No one to force me into sex. No one.

I had to wait until someone came to get me. Until someone came and told me what to do.

But then again, I had to pee. I had to pee so bad it hurt. So bad, I couldn’t stand it.

I pushed the blanket back, careful to be as quiet as possible. Then, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up. Still utter silence around me.

I tiptoed toward the open doorway, holding my breath.

“Well, hello, Little Dove,” the man who’d taken me to the infirmary said.

I gasped and dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t—”

The next thing I knew his hands were on my arms, pulling me to my feet. “No need to apologize. How are you feeling?”

“I have to pee, Sir.”

“Well, you can’t do that on your knees. And I’d greatly appreciate if you didn’t do it in my living room. Come on.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me to the next door. “Feeling better, Little dove?”

Why did he always have so many questions? Worse yet. Why’d he always act like he cared? I knew he didn’t. No one did. Follow orders and fuck. That’s all we were good for. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then I’ll leave you to do what you need to do.”

He left me in the middle of the bright bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Odd. So odd.

I stared at the door for the longest time. Solitude. A private bathroom. More confusing than wonderland. I snapped myself out of my thoughts, finished my business, then faced the door down again. What could be waiting this time?

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, lowering my head as I reentered the living room.

“Come here,” he patted the seat next to him, and I obediently sat where he’d gestured. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders. I stayed, frozen right where he left me, clutching the soft, warm blanket, but the warmth wouldn’t penetrate my skin.

When he returned, he sat a bottle of water on the table and handed me a plate with two sandwiches.

Two sandwiches
.

I wasn’t sure I was capable of eating that much anymore.

It had been so long since I’d had more than nibbles here and there.

“Thank you, Sir.”

As I ate, he dragged his fingers through my hair, gently separating the tangles and knots. It all played out like a strange dream. A twisted fantasy that couldn’t possibly be my reality. No one had touched me with such softness in years—not without an ulterior motive.

I made it through a sandwich and a half before I felt so full that I couldn’t possibly swallow another bite. Before I could apologize for not finishing the food, a knock on the door sent me to my knees. I curled up on the floor, clutching my hands in my lap and lowering my head.

I pissed off a client and now I’d pay the price. This was all just a ploy to make the punishment worse. To make me feel more guilty.

He put his hand on my shoulder, but the door still opened and a set of footsteps approached.

“Miles, how is she?” I recognized the voice as the leader of this building. When you spend your time on your hands and knees, voices are as good as fingerprints. Sometimes I never saw their faces. I saw plenty of everything else, but I didn’t want to see faces. I didn’t want to associate their faces with my nightmares. And I definitely didn’t want to see their eyes. Eyes are the worst. Dreaded, never-ending voids that only make false promises.

“You’re interrupting lunch,” Miles said with an air of disregard I’d never heard used toward the head of a house. They were gods—feared, revered, untouchable.

“I don’t give a damn about lunch. I give a damn about accounts, income, the state of my affairs.”

Miles snorted. “Well, this asset needs to eat and heal.”

“The doctor said she’s fine.”

A frigid hand lifted my bruised jaw. I let him tilt my head up, but my eyes didn’t follow.

“Really,” Miles said. “Look at her. Who’s going to pay for a bruised and beaten girl?”

He didn’t know the men I knew. This had to be a trick.

“I trust you got to the bottom of the situation before you decided to bring her up here and pamper her?”

“I watched the tapes. There was no time for her to do anything before he started hitting her. He’s a piece of shit with a temper. I pulled up his records. He’s been arrested twice for disorderly conduct and investigated for domestic violence. He should’ve never been let through the front door.”

“And whose fault is that? Last I checked, you were head of security. That’s your damn job, but you sent him to me to clean up the mess—interrupting a perfectly good dinner with three of the new girls.”

“Yeah, I order around a bunch of assholes who are more worried about which new girl they’re going to fuck first. Every time we bring in new girls we have trouble.”

“Then, I suggest you crack down.”

Miles groaned and stood. With one of them on either side of me, I felt like I was a baby lamb about to be ripped apart by two wolves. “How about I just replace them?”

“New employees are more trouble than new girls. You know that. Fix the problem before I have to. Makeup will cover the bruises. If nothing is broken, she can return to work tonight. We’ll put her to work in the overlook where we can keep an eye on her.”

Work
.
Overlook
. I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t like the sound of it. The higher the man, the more sadistic he usually was. If the boss intended to keep his eye on me, that probably meant I was to be his for the night.

I hoped they couldn’t see my hands quivering against my legs.

Fear would only feed their demented desires.

Miles stood, and Ross proceeded toward the door, leaving me on the floor in the center of the living room.

“Little Dove,” Miles whispered kneeling next to me.

Don’t talk
.
I’m not ready
.

The man had been right about me. I was useless.

I didn’t even have enough in me to pretend anymore. The hope for escape had faded long ago.

“Alley,” he squeezed my arm.

“Yes, Sir.”
Focus. Stay alive
. The only thing that terrified me more than another endless day in this place—another endless month, year—was what they might do to me if I didn’t listen.
Death
. A million possibilities worse than death. They wouldn’t kill me unless it was their last resort.

But I was perilously close to that.

“I have a meeting in town. Will you be okay alone?”

Alone
? I almost jerked my head up to see if I’d heard him right. “Here?”

“Yes, I intended to leave you here so you can rest. Unless you’d like to return to the Commons.”

“No, Sir. I’d very much like to stay here.”
What will I owe him for this
?

Brushing back my hair, he lifted me from the floor, carried me to the bedroom, and tucked me back in bed. This
had
to be a dream. An illusion of some kind. Maybe the concussion was worse than I thought.

“Do you need anything,” he asked before leaving my side.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. How could I ask for anything?

* * *

Alone in an apartment. I had the whole place to myself. It was too good to be true. Too torturous to be true. The quiet was even more unnerving than the constant state of chatter and movement in the Commons. I shoved the blankets off of me and stared down at the bruises covering my sides and arms. It seemed like there were more than I remembered.

Miles hadn’t said anything about how long he’d be gone, but the light outside the windows was already beginning to dim. It was only a matter of time before someone came to get me. Before I went back to work.

I slid my legs off the side of the bed, bracing myself against the mattress as I stood. My legs felt like stretched out springs, unable to hold their shape, and I put my hand against the wall to keep my balance as I left the bedroom and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the water in the over-sized whirlpool tub, letting it run hot and steamy. Such a luxurious apartment. I wished I could let my mind go, float away just long enough to believe that it was mine. To pretend. Pretend I was a normal girl again. To pretend I had a future.

If someone walked in now, I could say I was getting ready. I could pretend to be the dedicated “worker.” I’d put on the facade perfectly until last night.

What gave?

I reached for the medicine cabinet and pulled it open. How stupid was he to leave me here all alone?

A razor. That was all I needed. Anything sharp.

If all else failed. I’d take a knife from the kitchen. But I found just what I was looking for. I pulled the blade out of its holder. It all came so effortlessly. For once my mind was quiet, content. An exit. An escape. In the only way I’d ever get out of this. A better alternative than leaving my manner of death up to them.

I pressed the blade to my arm and a red dot of blood rose up around the tip. So beautiful. So freeing.

“Alley.”

I jumped, pressing the blade to my palm. I must not have heard him enter because of the running water in the tub. How much had he seen?

Miles came toward me, but I arched my back, trying to hide my cut arm behind me. It was only a small cut. A nick. But now I was caught.

Whatever came next would be far more painful.

“Alley, give me your hand.” Miles held out his own hand waiting for mine.

My breaths came so quickly that I bumped into the sink when a wave of dizziness hit me out of nowhere. And then I heard it. I felt it. A drop of something on the floor.

I followed the sound. Blood dripped from the hand holding the razor. No way of hiding it now.

Miles came at me and grabbed my arm, holding it out in front of me, palm side up. “Open your hand, Little Dove.”

Why did he have to call me that? I relaxed my fingers, letting them fall open to reveal the tiny blade. He gently pulled it out of my blood-soaked palm and dropped it in the sink. Then he wadded up a wash rag and pressed it to my hand.

“Sir,” I whispered, nodding to the tub. I didn’t need more trouble.

He quickly turned the knobs, without releasing my hand. I stared down at the bloody razor.
Almost
.
So close
.

“Alley.” Every time he said my name it was like someone jerking at a chain around my neck. It pulled me back for just an instant and then sent me reeling even deeper. He took my other arm, turning it over to reveal the small trail of blood from the tiny gash in my arm. Without another word, he reached into a cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first aid kit.

No. No. This isn’t how it goes
.

He dabbed an alcohol pad over the wound, then pressed a band-aid over it. The other cut wouldn’t be fixed so easily, but he took my hand with the same calm persistence.

I fisted my hand and pulled it away.

I didn’t want to be fixed.

I sure as hell didn’t want useless band aids covering the wounds.

Without warning, the tears fell and my knees buckled.

Miles caught me, pinning me against the sink so I couldn’t fall. “What’s wrong?” he asked, brushing his fingers against my face.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated.
What isn’t wrong
?

I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t say it. “Please, just kill me and get it over with,” I whispered.

“Why would I do that?”

“He was right. I’m worthless. Bad business. It’s what happens.” It all came out. All I wanted was a quick end.

“Not here.”

I shook my head, rattled with the sobs that built up in my throat and took my breath. “I can’t. He was right. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Where were you before you came here?” Miles asked.

What did it matter? Who cared? “Milwaukee.”

“How long?” His voice was so deep with an almost hypnotizing quality. It made me want to silence all of my thoughts just to listen, especially when he managed to stay so calm.