He ran one finger down my cheek, gliding through my tears and along my jaw. It continued its path down my neck and over my collarbone. I cringed when I felt his finger dip into my cleavage.
"What's the problem, Stella?" he taunted. "You don't like me anymore? Did your attraction for me vanish with the sunrise?"
"Fuck you," I muttered. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of upsetting me more before he did what he had planned to me.
"You wanted me to," he whispered in my ear. His shirt brushed my bare stomach and I held my breath. "Last night, you wanted everything I wanted to do you. I could feel it. I could see it. I could even fucking smell it."
"That was before you fucking drugged and kidnapped me," I growled.
"Still the truth."
His finger continued to slide over my body. My skin was hyper-aware of every touch from him. I squirmed under him, but he was much larger, successfully keeping me pinned and still. I started to think he even liked it when I struggled against him. His eyes held to the spot on my neck where I was sure my pulse was pumping rapidly.
"Too many people saw me with you last night. You can't get away with this," I told him.
"No one will even notice you're gone. If you were successful in anything in the past eight months, it was becoming invisible and isolating yourself completely," he said softly. "No one is in San Francisco waiting for you. You have no one to miss you when you never show up."
"That's not true," I said in a tight voice. It was very true. I opted against getting a roommate and my rent was paid up for several months. No one would know that I never moved in after my belongings showed up.
"You know it is," he argued.
"Liddy," I whispered, hope fading.
"She already received a text that you were on the road. Safe and sound."
The fight left my body. My limbs went weak and I stopped trying to pull my wrists free. No one would know that I was missing. There wouldn't be any hearts broken when I left this world. Everyone would continue with their lives while I rotted in a shallow grave. No one would hear my screams or come to rescue me. I officially blended away into nothing. I was all alone.
"Then just kill me already," I whispered.
I felt him lift himself of my body. I opened my eyes to find him hovering over me, staring down at my face. The look was unreadable, but his dark eyes swarmed with something more than hate. Before I could figure out what that was, he blinked and it was gone.
"You are more of an interest to me alive than dead, sweetheart."
"What?" I asked in a panic. "You can't just keep me here. For what?
"Whatever I need." His eyes once again took in my half-naked and restrained body.
"Your little sex slave?" My voice rose higher and higher with every degree of terror. I never imagined their revenge would be like this. I waited every night for someone to come get me, but I thought it would be quick and over with before I even saw the gun, not this cat and mouse game.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want," he barked at me. "You’d rather be out there? Watching over your shoulder? Waiting for the axe to fall on your head?"
"Hasn't it already?"
He shook his head and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back to me.
"Not yet. You can thank me later."
"Fuck you, asshole!" I shouted at him. "You fucking bastard mother fucker!"
I couldn't think of enough curse words for the vile man staring down at me.
"You can just call me Atlas, sweetheart."
The name rang over and over in my head as I watched the door close behind him.
Atlas.
My brother's friend.
The reason my family was dead.
The reason I was next.
The room went black.
III
Stella
Atlas left me tied to the bed for hours. I could see the sunlight fading on the walls as time went by. The straps were fastened to the iron headboard and I tried without luck to release them. The leather cuffs were tight on my wrists and ankles, keeping me immobile. My skin was chilled and my stomach rumbled with hunger. I hadn't heard a sound inside the house since he had left me. There were no footsteps, no city sounds or voices. Only my own breathing and occasional sniffling.
The room was simple with a plain dresser and a reading chair in one corner. The bare walls were a light cream color. There was nothing I could use to escape and nothing I would be able to reach. I was stuck helplessly waiting for Atlas to return and do whatever he had planned for me.
I had plenty of time to think about the situation I had gotten myself into. I trusted a guy I had just met and had let my guard down when I knew better. I thought I would have one last night of fun, flirting and dancing with the hot stranger whom I would never see again. My brother used to tell me never make assumptions about people. People would either disappoint you or impress you. No one was who they seemed to be.
My imagination was running wild. So while I could try to guess why Atlas wanted me alive, I wouldn't dare assume. My brother trusted him, but I knew where that had gotten him, along with my parents. Now it was my turn. I wouldn't trust a word he told me or even my own instincts. I had seen firsthand what people like him could do, which was how I had gotten into this mess in the first place.
When I heard the soft thuds of footsteps, I stiffened. I didn't know if I wished Atlas was coming for me or not. I was hungry and my arms were sore from struggling against the rope. I would feel much better with clothes on. I wanted to know where I was and what would happen to me. Knowing what little I knew of Atlas, it couldn't be good.
When the footsteps neared, my mind was dizzy with anxiety. There was nothing I could do while the knob turned and the door swung open. Atlas stepped through with ease and confidence. Only someone with his amount of power could walk like they didn't have a care in the world when there was a half-naked young woman tied to a bed.
"Let's try this again, Stella," he said to me. "You behave and everything will be fine."
I didn't respond as he stepped inside, setting a few things down on the dresser across the room. He was wearing dark jeans with a white button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to show muscular, tattooed arms. It looked like he was ready to do some work, which was likely bad news for me.
"I'm going to untie you," he told me. "You try to run and I will taser you."
To make sure I believed him, he showed me the taser in his hands. I'd never been hit with a taser before, but I didn’t doubt it would hurt like hell. I swallowed the lump in my throat and watched as he crawled over me and reached for my wrists. My left wrist was released first and he rubbed the raw skin that was exposed. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture in contrast to the brutality I had seen so far.
While Atlas moved to my right arm, I took my time to examine the man I had only heard about. His face had some stubble, and his dark hair was longer than I had thought it was the night before. Dark eyebrows knitted together while he rubbed the inside of my wrist. He dropped my free hand and leaned back to stare down at me. Finally free, I wrapped my arms around my chest for some protection. His fingers moved quickly and smoothly to unbuckle my ankles.