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My head snaps up, looking at him. Giving away the recognition of the name he just said.
“So, this must be the gringo that you belong to,” he states. Pulling a knife from his boot, he begins to run the long blade down my cheek and along the side of my neck. I’m frozen with fear. The sound of my heart pounding in my ears is so loud it’s defining.
“Oh, your biker is probably on his way, but we have plenty of time to have some fun before I go.”
There is absolutely nothing I can do when he takes the knife and cuts my bra, exposing me. I’m tugging on the restraints so hard that my skin has torn and starting to bleed. I watch as he traces the blade around the curve of one breast, then drags it along the curve of the other, this time applying pressure. Immediately I feel the sting of my skin being sliced. Tears fall from my eyes as I beg him. “Please, please don’t do this.”
His eyes are transfixed on where he sliced me and the blood that is dripping down my ribs. His expression blank, like he’s not even here. Blinking, he reaches out, dragging a finger through the blood on my flesh. “Your blood is all I want. Nothing more. There is no better high than watching the life slowly drain from someone.”
His blade begins to trail my body again. The rise and fall of my chest quickening as panic quickly takes hold of me. He pauses, the tip of the knife resting along my side, on top of my ribs, then slashes into me once more. This time I scream, the pain much worse than the first cut. He doesn’t let up. The knife digs into my flesh again and again. I lose count after a few moments. The pain is unbearable.
“Hermosa, beautiful.” I barely hear him say through my screams.
I faintly hear a knock on the door and turn my head to watch Jorge get up and walk over to open it. They start speaking, in Spanish, words I don’t understand. With his back turned, I look around trying to figure out any way to help myself get out of here. I notice his knife lying on the bed, but it’s impossible to reach with my hands above my head. I try once again to tug on my restraints. The pain is excruciating. I look down to see my skin is gashed open in several places with blood seeping from each wound. It’s no use. My struggles does nothing but further weaken what strength I still have.
A few more words are spoken between the two men before Jorge closes the door, making his way back over to the bed.
I watch as he picks the knife up again. “Your biker is almost here. I’m going to make sure he sees you die before I kill him myself.” He puts the knife back in his boot, just as another man wearing the same cut walks through the door.
“Help me take her down to the basement. We will wait for them down there. Order the men to their posts. I want to know the moment he arrives.”
Jorge undoes both my wrists before hoisting me over his shoulder, sending intense, shooting pain through my entire body. Flashes of lights and shadows dance behind my eyes just before I pass out.
When I come to, I’m hanging upright with my hands tied above my head, wearing nothing but my panties. My eyes dart around the room taking in my surroundings. The lack of light makes it hard to see much of anything. I hear a noise to my right. Straining my eyes, I can make out a figure lying on the ground. “Who’s there?” I stammer.
No one answers.
The lights come on without warning, and sitting on a chair in the middle of the room is Jorge.
I scan over to where I heard the noise seconds before and gasp when I see Sofia, chained to the floor, beaten so badly her eyes are completely swollen shut.
“He’ll kill you,” I seethe.
“Good, I see you’re ready to fight. I’m going to enjoy watching that light fade from your eyes.”
Striding over, he places the tip of the blade on my inner thigh. “Be still now. If you move it will be much worse.”
Of course, I don’t listen. I try to kick him but it’s no use I’m too weak. I unwillingly scream as I feel a hot, searing pain. His blade sinks into the flesh of my leg.
“Just inside the inner thigh, is the main artery, and if you puncture it just right, the blood will slowly leave your body. If I cut any deeper, you’ll die within minutes,” he boasts, satisfaction in his eyes as he watches the blade sink in.
The tears continuously flow down my face, as I sob. I will myself to stay strong, but the pain is winning. Looking down I watch my blood slowly trickle from my inner thigh, forming a small puddle at my feet.
“Now, we sit and wait,” he declares, with his arms spread wide.
Instead of pleading for my life, which at this point would be useless, I concentrate on my breathing. I do my best to calm myself and clear my head. Logan is on his way, this much I know. I need to make sure I hold on that long.
Time slows to a crawl. It’s so quiet. The only thing I hear is the beating of my own heart. Looking down, I notice the puddle of blood at my feet has gotten bigger. I feel so tired. I want to close my eyes so bad. It’s taking everything in me to keep them open. This is it. I’m not going to make it. I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen to my sister. Is she okay? Did they find her? And why didn’t I ever tell Logan I love him? I should have told him. Suddenly, I hear men shouting and gunfire erupting above us.
A loud pop and the sound of heavy footsteps echoes outside the basement door. I manage to lift my head up just as the door bursts open. I watch as Logan’s eyes scan the room, stopping as soon as his eyes land on me.
“Angel,” he whisp
ers, taking a step forward.
I’m too weak to speak fast enough.
The click of a gun cocking catches his attention. The overhead light switches on, and both men have the barrel of their guns trained on one another in a standoff.
