Captive Of The Ruthless Warlord Boss

Chapter 5

Word Count: 915 | Released on: Today at 10:33

utting off the blast of cold air. The suffocating weight o

r silk blouse. Then, she turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto Haley, who was still k

r fingers twisting violently into Haley's damp hair. She yanked upward, forcing Haley to arch her neck back. The sha

perfume was nauseating. "If he decides he wants you, you will be his

in panic. "No, he jus

harp and ugly. Haley's head snapped to the side, a stinging fire spre

s. "You think a man like that cares about a piece of

ttled heavy in her chest. There was no reasoning with this wom

ding near the stairs. "Take her down to solitary in C-block. I wa

d her to her feet. He twisted her arms behind her back, pulling her wrists together. He pulled a length

her bare feet dragging across the stones. They walked around the side of the

to the side of a concrete bunker. Cody pulled the door open. A bl

m, sickly yellow glow of caged bulbs spaced far apart on the ceiling. Water seeped th

From somewhere deep in the darkness, a muffled, agonizing sound echoed off

e doors, tried to memorize the turns, but the sh

on key into the lock. The mechanism turned with a loud, grinding clank.

tch-black room, hitting the hard cement floor shoulder-first. The rou

ve frame blocking the dim light from

shut. The lock engaged wit

essing against her eyes. The air in the cell was stagn

time with her racing heart. The last thread of her composure snapped. She buried her face against

and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She tugged at the ropes binding her wrists. The hemp

High up on the wall facing the door, a fain

t. She reached the wall and pressed her back against it. She slid up on her tiptoes, stretching her nec

e dirt clearing behind the estate. Several large flo

Chapter End

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Captive Of The Ruthless Warlord Boss

Dionisio Wambold Mafia

“Betrayed by my own uncle for a stack of hundred-dollar bills, I was drugged at the Miami airport and trafficked to a heavily armed mercenary compound in the Darien Gap. Stripped of my dignity, I was scrubbed with industrial bleach and graded as an "A-class asset." I was supposed to be a gift for Axel Sterling, the ruthless warlord who owned the estate, but he took one look at our trembling line and coldly declared he had no interest in women. To vent her frustration, the estate manager, Bea, decided to make my life a living hell. She locked me in a pitch-black solitary cell, starving me for days. She dragged me out only to force me to watch runaway girls get torn apart by massive mastiffs and swamp crocodiles. She wanted me completely broken and begging, a mindless toy ready to submit the moment the warlord returned. Sitting in the freezing mud, covered in blood, I was pushed to the absolute brink of madness. I couldn't understand why I was being kept alive while the others were sold off to the cartels. Was it really just because I had recognized a fake 1792 colonial map in his foyer? When Axel finally returned, Bea shoved me onto the burning asphalt, throwing an oil-stained rag at my face. "Wipe them clean! Or I'll throw you back in the pit!" She hoped my clumsy panic would trigger his extreme OCD and get me killed. But I didn't cry, and I didn't beg. Recalling my university antiquities restoration classes, I treated his mud-caked combat boot like a priceless 16th-century manuscript, perfectly lifting the dirt without a single scratch. The warlord stared at my filthy, battered body, his dead eyes finally sparking with a dark, calculating interest. "Stand up. Come inside."”