Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

Armas glares at the man, who is going to be punished later for daring to speak out against him. “You need to use the thick handcuffs. She’s not as broken as she looks. She will do everything she can to escape, even when there is no hope left.”

The man nods and both men start pulling me into the house while I hop on one leg, attempting to keep up instead of getting dragged again.

They pull me inside the house, and I’m overtaken by the smell of sweet flowers. The whole house has vases of fresh flowers everywhere, sitting on almost every hard surface.

A woman lives here. There is no way that Armas would think to have flowers in his house if he lived alone. A tiny glimmer of hope flickers in my heart. If I can find the woman and convince her to help me, then I might have a chance.

I glance at the man that thought it was pointless to tie me up.

“Does Armas live here by himself?”

“Yes.”

I frown, not sure if I believe him.

“Ow,” I moan. My injured leg hits the bottom step as they start leading me up the stairs.

The men pause, giving me a moment to catch up with them. I do my best to lift my wounded leg up.

“It seems like such a big house for him to live here all alone. And I’ve never heard of a man that has so many flowers.”

The man chuckles. “Trust me. He lives alone except for the staff. The flowers were supposed to be for Gia, but —”

The man stops when the man to my left clears his throat and gives him a look.

I sigh.

The men start moving quickly again, and I struggle to keep up. My leg hits more stairs than I can tolerate and when we reach the top, I collapse in their arms.

They don’t let me rest though. It’s like a flip has been switched and gone are the men that didn’t want to bring me additional pain.

I have no energy left. Nothing left in me to fight with.

I let them drag me, despite the stabbing pain, down the hallway, and into a bedroom.

I can make out the bedroom from behind the dark spots that have formed in my field of vision. There is a bed and some other furniture, but I can’t make out what color the items are or any details.

My heart palpates so loudly in my chest that I’m sure both men holding onto me can hear it and feel it. My body trembles in their arms. I blink rapidly trying to clear my head. I’m desperate to figure out a plan to get out of here.

But no matter how many times I blink, my eyes don’t uncloud, my head doesn’t focus, and the pain doesn’t leave my body.

The men start dragging me toward the bed, and I dig the heel of my healthy leg into the ground, trying to stall them until I can come up with a plan. Once I’m tied to the bed, I will have no hope of escaping.

The men exchange glances and pick me up off the floor entirely.

I thrash in their arms determined to escape. They hold my arms and legs tightly, making it almost impossible to kick free. I move my head over to bite them on the arm, but I’m too slow. One of the men grips my head and holds it still.

I can’t move.

I can’t do anything to prevent this from happening.

“Please, you don’t want to do this,” I beg. I can’t use my body, but maybe I can remind them that they have a soul. That they don’t want to work for a devil like Armas.

One man laughs.

“You think we care?”

I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “Yes, I know you do. I’ve been held captive for weeks now. I know when a man has a heart or not. You both do. Help me escape. Find the kindheartedness inside you. I’ll give you whatever you want if you do.”