The Four Mafia Men and Their Prize by M C

81 Bloody Hell

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$457310

Aurora POV

The black room.

The name itself makes me involuntarily shiver as Stephen, the sperm donor traitor, drags me behind him in an iron grip. As much as I try to struggle against him, the restraints binding my arms behind my back make it significantly harder to fight him.

He takes me down the flight of cement stairs that were behind a thick metal door, like a safe. The dark amber lighting against the pale grey cement gives stark contrast and as we reach the bottom, a stench like rotten eggs and cow feet permeates my nose making me gag. I will never complain about smelling Brussels sprouts again.

Stephen drags me through a large hallway. We pass by several large red oak doors with equally large and heavy–looking metal latches. We pass by a few hallways that probably lead to

more rooms. This place is a labyrinth. I try to focus on the path that Stephen is taking. But I lose my focus when I hear the rustling of chains echoing in the corridors. You can hear faint feminine screaming like a high–pitched whistle. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of what is in store for me.

Before I know it, we come to the end of the last hallway. The door in front of us is the only one in this alcove. A heavy door with an advanced metal locking system and you guessed it, colored black.

Stephen, without letting go of my arm, goes to a control panel on the side of the wall and like a James Bond movie, some high–tech panel comes out. He puts his palm on the scanner and then does a retinal scan before the panel disappears into the wall.

I can’t help but gawk and my smart mouth just opens: “What are we entering? Narnia? Fort Knox? Area 51? Oh, I know! Opera’s secret lair?” Stephen gives me a sideways glance and an eye roll as the locks click open and the door swings toward us.

“You forgot to say Open Sesame dipshit!” I mutter to Stephen, digging my heels in the ground because dreaming is so going to happen,

*For your good, just please shut up Aurora,” the sperm donor warns close to my ear as he continues to drag me inside.

It’s pitch black. Literally. The only light seeping into the room is from the lights outside the door. I can barely make out a silhouette of a chair. Shit, not again. Not another sensory deprivation room.

I begin to light the man holding me with even more vigor. But Stephen just guides me to this chair, pushes me down to sit, and then swiftly reaches behind me to unlock my cuffs. I tried to push him out of my way, but he effortlessly pushed me down and had one of my arms shackled to the chair before I could even contemplate what was happening. He used his weight to push against my legs so I couldn’t kick him and my not–so–subtle attempt to flail my free arm around like one of those balloon people at a car dealership was halted quickly.

*Please! Don’t do this,” I beg. I continue to struggle against the harsh iron manacles on my wrists. I am on the verge of a panic attack. The clanking sound against the chair was almost deafening to me. My heartbeat quickened like it was about to jump out of my breastplate and run a marathon. I could barely make out Stephen’s features as most of the light was blocked by his tall figure.

1/4

-Blood mal

and he lexus diose

tund to

call ah him

añuer bir, but the door is rinsed via a resounding bing and a lout click sole my fine.

in dariness. There is no light, no sound lust me, my thoughts, my header and thences of the dades I am fighting so hard desperate for freedom. Jey panic sets in and

eves i hears and swollen my head is aching any ans feel cavc, and

IF DME

A

Semitty places my cough peace waited

lohed awake by a harsh biting cold like a million needles asading my sitim Inte a

away fast. I’m staking vent

duck in a crucicon Sandey seem. I boot around and cot by

vi

is now alert and now

hair sicting to my neck and fire. The

on. I am still in a chair, funny enough black and the rasy iron, also black

room. The room doen’t look too large but I can’t see

Oh shit.

soon strong as came upon my shoulders and pressed on them firmly, making me stop. I felt warm breath on my exposed neck. “Scared?”

only been a few days. He continued saying weet nothings and tried to reassure me, petting my head lightly. My breathing finally steadied after a fer

with a black stool and sits down, he spreads his tall legs wide and brings his knees to touch my outer legs, casing me in. He rests his big calloused lanky

24

81- Bloody Hell

bit

in anger between my teeth with a clenched jaw. My voice was hoarse and my throat was sore and chapped. Of course he didn’t listen. He just smiled and cocked his head to the side,

with his finger. If

kick him in the fucking balls repeatedly and say I tripped? Yeah, that should work. I smile at my little

when he leans over and kisses my cheeks. He surprisingly puts a water bottle to my lips and I take hearty sips of water greedily, almost finishing the whole thing. I feel so

he says exhaustedly, “we have so much to catch up

people who have sticks up their ass!” I spit out.