A.N: This chapter is in Dylan's point of view, and it is taking place at the time during which Natalie and Clay are discussing Natalie's hidden past. Enjoy!
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I made sure that I locked the door behind me, not forgetting to put the key in my wallet instead of above the bedroom door where everyone in the house had access to it. That was a nightmare once already, and I was not planning on letting it happen again.
As soon as I reached the stairs, I was already peeved just by merely hearing the voices of the group of the multiple jerks who, without consent, went and tore up Natalie's insides just because they wanted to be douchebags. They should all rot in jail for the rest of their existences after we had full proof evidence of their kidnapping, sex trafficking, and rape of a teenager. Luckily (and sadly), Natalie was only seventeen years old, so these guys could easily be put behind bars for what they've done to her while she's been here. That and all the other girls they've imported and probably done these same things to.
Lost in my thoughts, my foot hit the final stair with a thump. As I listened intently, I realized that there wasn't any more annoying, boyish chatter amongst the gang.
Click. The sound of a cocked gun alerted all of my attention to the bloke beside me who was pointing the bloody barrel at my own head.
Dang it, I thought.
At that moment, I had just three choices:
1. Confess that I was undercover and take the consequences that come with doing so, including the possible harm, or worse, the death of Natalie, Clay and I.
2. Try to get the gun away from whoever was holding it at my face, resulting in the same, and probably even worse consequences than that of my first choice.
3. The final option of playing it off as if everything is good and well and continue on doing my job of staying in character. For all I knew, they could be messing with me, or even be just merely testing me to see if I would let anything spill. Plus, maybe Clay would take my leave of absence as a sign to get the heck out of here.
After a quick thought in a brief second passing, I ended up choosing what I thought was the best decision to keep as little harm happening to Natalie as possible -- just going along with it, and playing everything off as good and well. Not subjecting myself or others to any possible damage that could come from my poor decision making.
"Lads, this isn't funny. Why don't we all just calm down and breathe for a bit, alright?" I nervously laughed, hoping I didn't sound as anxious as I thought it did.
"Shut up, Dylan," Ah, it was the ringleader's voice, the one and only Slater Jenkins, who spoke to me as if he owned me. He chuckled slyly and continued his sentence, "If that's even your real name." The jerk pushed the barrel of the gun deeper into my skull, and I could feel the blood in my veins pumping as adrenaline rushed through my body. I lifted my hands, slowly, with the gun in my belt, to the sides of my head, trying to show that I was surrendering. I held up the gun and made sure the safety was on before tossing it on the ground and kicking it across the room. It slid against the wooden-planked floorboards and ended its journey by thudding lightly against one of the pegs on the armoire that held million dollar bottles of varios aged wine. Fortunately, I was armed with more than one weapon -- they didn't necessarily have to know that, right?
Craning my neck to face my opponent, I held my breath for a second when I discovered who I was up against. "Mate, what're you even talking about? You guys know me, trust me, even. Or so I thought. What's to say you all aren't selling me out, huh?"
Right before my eyes was the usual gang: Slater Jenkins, Juniper Bradbury, Maxwell Anderson, Chris Stratton, and Sterling Hessler.
The people sitting in the living room and also acknowledging my presence were a few of whom I recognized very clearly.
However, at that moment, I pretty much wished I did not know who they were.
A few years back, when I had first started at the academy, I tagged along with Natalie's father and a few other major UC's, who are now retired, to lock up a few people deep within the sex trafficking ring in Statton Island. I stayed behind most of the time, just as that guy who looked small but had "major" hooks and connections to big-time dealers. Although I tried my best to stay behind the scenes as much as possible back then, I guess I didn't blend in as easily as I thought I did.
Crap, I thought. All my hard work for everything to go to chaos, just great. However, just because I recognized a few of the big names, it didn't necessarily mean that they recognized me. I was a child back then, a fetus fresh out of high school; hopefully, the fresh haircut and stubble I currently wore distracted the gang and showed them that I wasn't resembling the snotty-nosed kid I was back then. They couldn't possibly register my baby face then as the face of the adult standing before them today, right?
"Seriously, mate? What even is this? Some kind of get-together with your ole' pals from grade school to harass me?"
His tone was cool as he spoke with a monotone voice, "Yeah, something like that, I guess since they are pals of mine... unlike someone I know." The glare he sent me was something I had grown accustomed to because it was practically his trademarked look. Er, I mean, the one underneath the mask of the sociopath that was Slater Jenkins.
"You have betrayed us, Dylan," the way his voice spoke my name made it seem like some bitter poison coming off his tongue. "You are a part of that old rag up in New York trying to capture us for sex trafficking and kidnapping. You know how we know? These guys are some old friends of mine, and, lucky for me, have been keeping track of your little pal upstairs. Did you really think that you could just let some stranger in and not have us ask any questions?"
As I pretended to listen, the other guys tied me up to a chair, binding my hands and feet while Slater held his gun to my face, about two feet away. Once I was fully tied up, my clothes were searched for any weapons I had on me. Two guns and two knives were hidden in my pants and shoes that they ended up finding. Lucky for me, I had a small pager. With one press of the button, I sent an alert message to Clay, telling him to sneak out ASAP.
If anyone was going down for my mistake, it would have to be me. I was already deep with these guys, and I didn't want to risk anyone else's lives except mine for the consequences of my own dumb actions.
"Maxwell!" Slater commanded. In an instant, the kid was standing at the right side of his superior.
"Yes, Sir?" He replied.
"Go upstairs and check on the girl and.. Dylan's little friend, would you? Bring them downstairs immediately." His loud voice echoed off of the acoustic walls in the house, making the vibe much colder than it was before. A chill ran up my spine as the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The kid was at the top of the stairs in an instant, and for a second, it was quiet.
Then, there were the gunshots. Two, three, five, then six. It all seemed to happen so fast.
And then screams -- that of a girl's. A window being broken. The sound of a struggle, a fight. Two bodies thudding against the floor, shaking the ceiling above us. I got up. I kicked and screamed and fought, but to no avail, as I was kick-dropped to the floor. The feeling of rope tightening around my wrists and legs didn't bother me as much as the thought of Natalie's untimely death did.
"NATALIE!" I yelled out, only to be punched in the face so forcefully, it knocked me to the hard floor below me. My vision was blurred as I kept crying out to her, hoping and praying that she and Clay made it out of here alive. I paid no attention to how raw my voice felt or how the blood trickled down my chin after being knocked in the face. In that moment, all I cared about was the safety and well-being of the beloved Natalie, who I swore as my duty to protect, no matter the circumstance.
"Yes, keep crying, Dylan. You're really in for it now."
A kick to the face left me helpless and suddenly I passed out.
YOU ARE READING
Taken (SLOWLY RE-UPLOADING)
Mystery / Thriller|| "My life isn't over yet." || Have you ever had something happen to you that you wish didn't happen but you know that it shaped you into the better person that you are today? My name is Natalie Linn Mace and this is my story. This is the story abo...
