Chapter 71: Jolly Roger (Bay)

We lie there, Luna half on top of me, her breath gradually slowing as she comes down from her high. I’m completely spent, used up, hollow. She fucked me for what felt like hours, riding me like a mechanical bull, demanding more when I had nothing left to give.

Yet, for all her animal-like ferocity, she never once struck me. No slaps, no punches, no kicks. Unlike Mia and the others, Luna’s violence was purely sexual, which is weirdly inconsistent with everything else I’ve seen from her.

Luna shifts against me, her eyes heavy-lidded as she glances my way. “See yourself out, yeah?” she mumbles, already half-asleep, naked and covered in my cum.

I stare at her for a moment, processing her words. Is this some kind of test? A trap?

She doesn’t move again, her breathing deepening as she drifts off. I slowly push myself up, my entire body aching with the effort. I look down at my useless, damaged hands, still curled into their permanent, claw-like position.

“Guess I’ll use my elbows or something,” I mutter to myself.

I don’t bother trying to gather my shredded clothes. There’s no point, I can’t dress myself alone anyway, and Luna destroyed most of them in her frenzy. Instead, I stand naked, swaying slightly as the cocktail of drugs in my system makes the room tilt and sway around me.

As I stumble toward the door, something catches my eye on a small table near the exit. A bottle of pills sits on a counter, the container marked with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones. My heart skips a beat as I glance back at Luna, who’s now completely unconscious, sprawled across her silk sheets.

I move closer to the pills, examining them without touching. They’re small and white, innocuous-looking despite their ominous warning label. Something powerful enough to kill, sitting right here within reach.

I stare at Luna for a long moment, my mind racing despite the drug haze.

“Maybe...” I whisper, hardly daring to hope.

With a quick motion, I dip my head and use my tongue to pick up one of the pills, carefully tucking it into the space between my gum and inner cheek. The bitter taste immediately floods my mouth, but I ignore it, focusing on keeping my expression neutral in case Luna is watching through half-closed eyes.

‘Maybe I can use this to escape.’ I wonder inwardly. ‘Am I really ready to take my own life?’

I push the door open with my elbow and step into the hallway, my heart pounding with renewed purpose. The pill sits heavy against my cheek, a secret weapon I’ve managed to acquire.

I shuffle down the dim corridor, naked and disoriented, the pill tucked safely in my cheek. Every step sends pain shooting through my abused body. The drugs Luna gave me are wearing off, leaving me shaky and nauseated as I navigate back to Mia’s quarters.

When I finally reach her door, I push it open with my shoulder to find the room bathed in darkness. The only sound is Mia’s heavy snoring, a rhythmic rumble that fills the space. My eyes adjust slowly, making out her muscular form sprawled across the mattress, one arm flung wide as if waiting to trap me against her.

I stumble toward the bed, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. As I awkwardly climb onto the mattress, trying to avoid waking Mia, my foot catches on the edge. I pitch forward, losing my balance completely.

The sudden movement dislodges the pill from its hiding place. It slips to the back of my throat, and I gasp reflexively, sucking it deeper. Panic surges through me as I begin to choke, my airway suddenly blocked.

‘This is it,’ I think wildly, my body convulsing as I fight for breath. ‘This is how I die. Choking on a pill I wanted to take to kill myself.’

My lungs burn, desperate for air. I’m making horrible gagging sounds now, my body jerking violently. In my panic, I fall forward, directly onto Mia’s sleeping form.

The impact forces a violent cough from my lungs. The pill shoots from my throat like a bullet directly into Mia’s open, snoring mouth.

My eyes widen in horror and disbelief as I watch her unconsciously swallow, her throat working on instinct. She coughs lightly, her body processing the foreign object, but it goes down.

‘Oh my god.’

I freeze, hardly daring to breathe as Mia’s eyes flutter open. She blinks groggily, focusing on my face hovering above hers.

“Oh hey,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. She inspects me for a moment, then sighs deeply. “Want to go shower?”

I stare at her, unable to process what’s happening. The pill marked with a skull and crossbones is now inside her. Not me. Her.

“Um, yeah,” I manage, my voice a hoarse whisper. “A shower would be good.”

Mia sits up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She looks completely normal, showing no signs of distress or discomfort. Whatever that pill was, it’s not acting immediately.

Mia stands up, stretching her muscular arms above her head. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, her voice still thick with sleep. She doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, no indication that she just swallowed something potentially lethal.

She helps me to the shower, supporting most of my weight as we move across the cold concrete floor. The water is almost scalding as it hits my skin, but I barely register the pain anymore. Mia’s hands move over my body, washing away Luna’s scent and the evidence of what she did to me.

“Did she hurt you?” Mia asks, her fingers gentle as they probe for new injuries.

I shake my head slightly. “Just... used me.”

Mia nods, her jaw tightening. “That’s good. That’s... that’s good.”

Her movements seem slower than usual, her coordination slightly off as she rinses the soap from my skin. Is the pill affecting her already? I watch her carefully, looking for any sign that something’s wrong.

When she turns off the water, I try to step out of the shower, but my legs buckle beneath me. The withdrawal is starting to hit, my muscles protesting every movement as tremors run through my body.

“Whoa there,” Mia says, catching me before I can fall. Without hesitation, she scoops me into her arms, cradling me against her chest like I weigh nothing at all. “I’ve got you.”

The position makes me feel small and vulnerable, my naked body pressed against hers as she carries me back to the mattress.

She lays me down gently on the bed, her movements more sluggish now. A thin sheen of sweat has broken out on her forehead, and her breathing seems slightly labored.

A violent shudder runs through me, my teeth beginning to chatter as the familiar symptoms of withdrawal take hold. My skin crawls with invisible insects, my stomach clenching painfully.

“Mia,” I whisper, hating myself for asking, “do you think I could get a small hit for bed?”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “You survived, Luna, so sure.”

Mia moves to the small table beside the mattress, retrieving a syringe and a rubber tourniquet. Her hands tremble slightly as she ties off my arm, her movements less precise than usual. The vein stands out blue against my pale skin as she taps it with her finger.

“Hold still,” she murmurs, sliding the needle in with practiced ease despite her increasingly unsteady hands.

The heroin floods my system, warm relief washing over me in waves. My eyelids grow heavy as the drug takes effect, my body sinking deeper into the mattress.

Mia caps the needle and sets it aside, her movements slow and deliberate.

Mia stands up abruptly. Her movement seems slightly off, but she steadies herself against the wall.

“I’m wide awake, so sleep tight alone,” she says, wiping sweat from her brow. “I’m gonna do some work.”

She leans down and kisses my forehead, her lips burning hot against my skin. I hate the casual intimacy of it, the way she treats me like I belong to her. I say nothing, just stare at the ceiling with vacant eyes.

Mia pulls back, studying my face for a moment before turning away. She heads out of the room, her steps a bit uneven but mostly normal. The door clicks shut behind her.

As I drift off to sleep watching the sun come up, one thought rings in my mind.

‘It’s not fair she got to take it, and I didn’t.’

*****

[Claire’s POV]

The cold concrete floor has become my bed, my back aching from another night spent curled up against the wall of my cell. I’ve lost track of how many days I’ve been here, watching that pile of money in the adjacent cell like it’s mocking me. My head feels a little better, finally.

I jolt awake at the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy boots on concrete, moving with purpose. My heart races as I push myself up to a sitting position, wincing at the stiffness in my joints.

The metal door to the holding area swings open, and Mia’s muscular frame appears in the doorway. She’s carrying a tray of food, the steam rising from what looks like oatmeal and coffee. Her face seems different somehow, pale and slightly sweaty despite the early hour.

“Hey, I’m up, so I figured I’d bring you breakfast,” she calls out, her voice oddly strained as she approaches my cell.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, trying to gauge her mood. Sometimes, she’s almost friendly, other times coldly professional. “What time is it?”

“Six,” she replies, fumbling with the keys to my cell.

Something’s definitely off about her. Her movements are sluggish, uncoordinated. As she unlocks the door, her hand trembles visibly, the keys jingling against the metal.

Suddenly, Mia doubles over, the food tray tilting dangerously in her hands. A violent retching sound escapes her throat, followed by a spray of bright red blood that splatters across the concrete floor. The tray crashes down, sending oatmeal and coffee flying everywhere.

Mia staggers backward, her eyes wide with shock. She then whips forward like she’s trying to correct herself. Her head smashes into the metal bars of my cell as she falls. I hear a sickening crack that echoes through the warehouse. The impact is so violent that her skull actually splits open, blood and gray matter oozing out of the fracture.

She crumples to the ground outside my cell, twitching spasmodically as blood pools beneath her head.

“Oh my God, what the fuck?!” I scream, scrambling backward until my back hits the concrete wall.

Mia’s body continues to convulse, her eyes rolling back in her head as more blood gushes from her mouth and nose. The keys she was holding clatter to the ground, perfectly within reach.

I stare in horrified fascination as her movements gradually slow, then stop altogether. The pool of blood continues to spread, inching toward my cell like a crimson tide.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “She’s dead. She’s actually dead.”

The silence feels heavy, oppressive, broken only by the wet gurgle of blood still seeping from Mia’s shattered skull. I need to move, but I’m frozen, eyes locked on her lifeless body.

“Claire, snap out of it,” I whisper to myself, forcing my trembling legs to move.

I reach through the bars, fingers stretching toward the keys lying in the growing pool of blood. My fingertips brush cold metal, and I manage to hook one finger through the ring. The keys come sliding toward me, leaving a trail through the crimson puddle.

I stare at the blood-slicked keys in my palm, then glance nervously toward the door. The warehouse remains eerily silent. No alarms, no running footsteps, nothing to indicate anyone heard Mia’s violent death.

My fingers fumble with the keys, trying each one until I find the one that fits my cell. The lock clicks open with a sound that seems deafening in the quiet space. I push the door open slowly, wincing at the slight creak of metal hinges.

Stepping over Mia’s body makes bile rise in my throat, but I force myself forward. I crouch beside her, my stomach churning as I reach into her pocket. My fingers close around a set of car keys, and I pull them free, wiping them on my shirt to remove the blood.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper automatically, though I’m not sure why I’m apologizing to a woman who helped kidnap and torture my husband.

My eyes drift to the other cell, the one filled with stacks of cash. The money sits there, tantalizingly close, more money than I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I couldn’t possibly...” I start, then spot the key on the ring that looks different from the others, newer, shinier. “But I might as well.”

The key slides into the lock of the money cell with perfect ease. As the door swings open, I stare at the stacks of bills in disbelief. There must be millions here.

I look around frantically, spotting two backpacks hanging on hooks near the door. I grab them, my movements becoming more urgent as adrenaline courses through my system.

“This is insane,” I mutter, but my hands are already stuffing stacks of cash into the backpacks. I work methodically, filling both bags until they’re bulging with more money than I can even attempt to count.

The weight of the backpacks is substantial as I sling them over my shoulders. My thoughts turn to Adam, somewhere in this building, broken and abused.

“I need to save him,” I whisper, peering nervously toward the door that leads to the main warehouse. “But if I go into the main room, I’ll get noticed for sure.”

My gaze falls on a metal door at the far end of the holding area, partially hidden behind some storage crates. It’s different from the main entrance, heavier, with reinforced hinges and what looks like a panic bar.

“That must be an emergency exit,” I whisper, hope surging through me.

I hurry toward it, backpacks slapping against my back with each step. As I pass a small table near the exit, I spot my phone lying there, somehow overlooked when they took my possessions.

“Thank God,” I breathe, snatching it up.

I turn it on, the screen illuminating my blood-spattered face. No service bars appear in the corner.

“Shit,” I sigh, pocketing it anyway. “I guess I’ll just call Caterina when I figure out where the hell I am.”

I decide to just chance it, and after unlocking the locked door from the inside, I push against the panic bar. The door swings open with a surprisingly quiet hiss of hydraulics, revealing a narrow alleyway bathed in the soft glow of dawn.

The fresh air hits me like a physical force after days in that concrete cell. I gulp it down greedily, my head spinning with the sudden rush of oxygen and freedom.

A sleek black car sits at the end of the alley, Mia’s, presumably. I fumble with the keys, my hands shaking so badly I can barely press the unlock button. The lights flash once, and I nearly sob with relief.

As I slide into the driver’s seat, guilt crashes over me like a wave. Adam is still in there, broken and suffering. I should go back for him. I should try to save him.

But Luna is in there, too, probably with a over a dozen armed women. I’d be dead before I found him, and then we’d both be lost.

“I’m sorry, Adam, I’ll send help. I promise.”