Dark Captor (Dark Syndicate 2)

Chapter Two

Isabella

Dmitri is here again…

Why?

I can’t help the hard look I give him as he walks through the door of the cafeteria. Yesterday was bad enough.

My job here at the rehabilitation centre is one of the few things I can do to escape reality.

Just the sight of him drags me back to the darkness of my world. I hate this man with everything inside me. I hate him so much it hurts my heart just to look at him.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to look at him and not remember the way he killed Eric, the love of my life.

Under normal circumstances a killer like him wouldn’t be striding toward me without a care in the world. He would be behind bars serving serious time for his crimes.

In my hell, however, he’s my father’s righthand man. Killing got him to where he is today. At the right hand of the devil.

Dmitri is a walking nightmare and that smile on his face continuously mocks me. Every time I see this man… this monster, I get the reminder of my place in this world and that my life does not belong to me. It doesn’t matter where I am. Be it home, or at work. My father is always doing something to put things in perspective.

Usually I can figure things out and I know to be extra cautious. This week, however, has been a mystery.

Something is going on. I’m convinced of it now.

I’m twenty-two years old. If I don’t know by now that there’s never a dull moment when it comes to my father, then I’ll never know.

If something is going on, though, I have a right to know what it is. I hate feeling paranoid. It’s bad enough I’ve had that awful sensation over the last few days that someone is watching me. I don’t need shit like this.

As Dmitri approaches me, Sacha, my bodyguard, glances over from the corner of the room. He must sense something is going on too. Why else would I need two guards to escort me to the meeting?

Dmitri stops, paces away, and gives me a clipped nod, a silent order to finish what I’m doing so we can leave.

I draw in a shallow breath and try to calm my nerves. It’s not time to leave yet. I’m supposed to be here for another three hours. I hate leaving work earlier than planned and for no reason at all.

I’m an assistant psychologist here. My goal is to be a cognitive behavioral therapist and work somewhere like this in the future, working with people who have suffered from trauma and have PTSD. This clinic has been perfect for me to gain all the relevant experience because they have both inpatients and outpatients.

I’m ruled under my father’s thumb, so I know all my goals are wishful thinking but I’ve had this job for the last nine months, straight out of college. That’s impressive on its own and I take it extremely seriously. The Ridgewood Clinic usually selects professionals with more post college experience and qualifications. My acceptance was based on my impressive academic record at Brown University and the three summers I spent here on a voluntary placement. They loved me so much they accepted my application in a heartbeat. I value things like that.

At the same time, I value being allowed to work. It was something I had to beg my father for. Although he granted the small freedom it came with the condition that like college I had to have my bodyguard with me at all times, and if I was needed to be somewhere he wanted me to be I had to do as I was told.

So, I know there’s little point arguing with any of my father’s guards. Besides, if Dmitri is here that’s as good as my father telling me it’s time to go. I’ll have to leave now whether I want to or not. I would hate for the little freedom I have to be taken away.

I return my focus to Joseph, the patient I’ve been working with today, and try to gather my composure.

“I’m going to hand you over to Belinda, so you can stay in here a little longer,” I tell him.

He’s a linebacker for the LA Gladiators. He came in two months ago after a car accident and has progressed immensely.

He rests down on his crutch and gives me a smile. “Sweetheart, how about I take it from here and make my way back to my room. Belinda is just going to try and give me that disgusting soup, again,” he answers with a chuckle.

I can’t help but laugh. He’s right. That’s exactly what Belinda will try to do.

My coworkers and the patients here keep me going. People like them keep me in touch with reality. They help me to forget who I belong to.

“Are you sure you want to try?” He’s capable and a lot stronger this week than just last week but it’s in my nature to be cautious.

“I’m cool. Trust me.” He gives me a wink and I watch him take his time walking away.