Dark Captor (Dark Syndicate 2)

“I don’t know where he is.”

He sighs and instead of continuing the conversation he swaps the tray around with my untouched plates from this morning.

As he looks back at me, I sense that vibe of danger and I know he’s just as ruthless as Tristan is.

I get the impression silence is his weapon. His dark gaze sends a shiver of fear through me.

“It would be in your best interest to tell us where your father is. If we find out you know where he is and lied to us. You won’t like what happens next.”

That’s all he says and leaves me.

I swallow hard as the door swings shut and hold back the tears. I don’t want to cry anymore. I can’t resort to being that crying woman who gives up. I can’t allow that to happen to me even if it looks like hope is gone.

An hour passes and when the door opens again, it’s Tristan.

He’s carrying clothes that look like they’re for me in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

When I last saw him, he spanked me.

I’ve been whipped. I’ve been pushed around like I’m nothing, but no one has ever degraded me in such a way before. Nobody.

I know I was wrong to hit him with the plate, but fuck, I can’t exactly say he didn’t deserve it.

Now he’s here again and I don’t know what he’s going to do to me.

The man confuses me. His body only reacts that way to me because he’s attracted to me too, and I don’t think we would have had the sex we had if he just wanted to chain me to a wall.

He sets the sandwich down first, then the clothes, and stares at me.

“Are you going to behave today?”

“Behave? I haven’t done anything wrong,” I retort.

“You threw a plate at me.”

“You kidnapped me, so you definitely deserved it. If I had a gun, I’d kill you.”

He actually laughs at me like I’m a joke. I suppose I am. I’m the one who’s handcuffed to the window, completely at his mercy.

I can’t do shit and we both know it. Even if I could do anything, I’m sure I wouldn’t get close enough to pull the trigger. He’d stop me.

He pulls a key from his pocket and I can’t help the feeling of relief that washes over me when he undoes my wrist.

“Get up,” he orders, and I stand. “Why aren’t you eating? Think you can starve yourself and I’ll take pity on you?”

“I don’t want your food, I want you to let me go,” I answer.

“You haven’t eaten in days,” he points out, ignoring my plea.

“I don’t want your food, I want you to let me go,” I repeat.

“You will eat when I give you food, and like I said before you aren’t going anywhere until you tell me where your father is.”

“And like I said before I don’t know where he is. You asshole, what is the matter with you?”

He grits his teeth and clenches his fists at his sides.

“Isabella, fucking eat the food. I swear if you don’t you will not like what happens next.”