The Prison (Book 1)

Take Off

Take Off

I was startled awake by a deafening sound that made me think that it was the end of the world. When I looked around me, I realized that, for me, it really was. The man who'd shot Schneizel sat right in front of me. I realized with growing terror were sat in a helicopter that was about to take off.

I screamed and lunged for him with open claws.

He easily deflected my hands, pressed a hand onto my chest and shoved me back into my seat, and then backhanded me across the face. My entire face began to sting from the force of his blow. It was like being hit in the face with a brick.

"Easy, boy. There's enough time for foreplay later," he insinuated darkly, a calm, evil smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn't furious that I'd dared to attack him; rather he was amused, pleased even! The once-over he gave me made me blanch. I saw in him a hunger that was only right in an animal, not in a human being. There was something feral, something dangerous hidden behind his cerulean eyes that absolutely terrified me.

Who was this man?

Schneizel had called him Cain.

The helicopter began to take off. The door was still wide open, so I quickly moved to jump out of it, but Cain proved the faster of the two of us. With lightning speed, he'd trapped me in my seat using the seatbelt, tying my arms beneath it so that I couldn't move or unbuckle the belt. I struggled against my restraints as hard as I could, but the belt wouldn't give. My heart sank.

"Aiden!"

At the sound of my name being bellowed loud enough to be heard over the chopper's, I looked outside to see Schneizel and Cade at the centre of the helipad. Behind them, the sea stretched for as far as the eye could see.

"Schneizel!" I cried back. At the sight of him leaning against Cade for support, his clothes stained with dark blood, tears began to fall freely down my face. He looked so tired and so very distressed that it crushed my heart. He was hurt and it was all my fault! Misery and anger at my own hopelessness assailed me. Why couldn't I just be stronger?! This had all happened because I was such a pathetic weakling! Like a curse, I brought trouble to those around me, dragging them down with me.

I found myself wishing that if only Schneizel hadn't come for me. Then, he would not have been shot.

"How beautiful." A hand seized me by the chin, his long fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, and tilted my face toward Cain. I nearly screamed at the excited, perverted look he as giving me. His eyes practically glowed with ill intent. One glance at his lap confirmed my worst suspicions; his bulge showed through his pants.

"Will you cry for me just like that too, boy?" Suddenly, he moved forward and licked the tears away from my cheeks. I really did cry out then, disgusted and mortified.

This guy was insane!

"What the hell?!" Where his tongue had touched, the skin tingled and burned. It was like he'd poured acid over my face. I would preferred that over the perverted act, actually.

He released my chin and leaned back in his seat, the picture of calm. In a bid to make me more uncomfortable, no doubt, he spread his legs as if to showcase his rising bulge.

I looked away immediately, my cheeks burning with humiliation.

Was this nightmare ever going to end?

"Aiden! AIDEN!"

Every time he cried out my name, it felt as if my heart was being wrenched from my chest. I watched, helpless as the helicopter soared higher and higher into the air, and farther and farther away from him.

Cain reached for the door handle and slammed it shut, sealing away Schneizel's cries.

****

Cade's P.O.V

Where the hell were we? It was a question that I'd been dying to ask the moment the Range Rover drove through the massive, black, Gothic gates some five minutes ago, but Schneizel was not in an answering mood, so I wisely kept my mouth shut. As the car pulled over to a veritable mansion that looked like it had been ripped right out of a Batman comic, I noticed the dozens of guards stationed around the front of the mansion. Dressed in black suits and carrying Uzis, their unfriendly mugs told me that this was a place that did not welcome visitors.

Where the hell were we?!

Schneizel threw the door open and left the car, leaving the engine on. I reached over, pressed the engine button, thereby turning the car off, and followed suit. He walked right toward the front door and the guards now stationed right in front of it. He'd been patched up and was nearly back to his normal strength, but under no circumstances was he ready to take on fifteen armed men! They had Uzis for crying out loud!

Worried, I called to him, "Schneizel, man, don't! You're in no condition-"

The guards stepped aside the moment he was up the stairs. One even opened the door for him.

WHERE THE HELL WERE WE?!

Confused and deeply curious at the same time, I followed close behind. The inside of the mansion was a billionaire's wet dream, hardwood and marble tiles everywhere. A grand, wooden staircase that split in middle into two staircases sat right in front of me, an expensive-looking red carpet draped across the entirety of its length. I wanted to admire the woodwork some more, but Schneizel didn't plan on waiting. I was surprised to note that he seemed to know his way around the mansion. He went into a corridor and walked straight to the mahogany double doors at the end of it. Two more guards were stationed on either side of it, also carrying. Upon seeing Schneizel, they too opened the doors.

We walked into an office that was as luxurious and beautifully-furnished as the lobby. Three of the four walls of the room were lined with bookcases filled to overflowing with books, old and new. The fourth remaining wall had a giant painting mounted on it. A man sat on a throne-like chair, two boys on either side of him. It smelled like cigars, leather and sandalwood. Man, what I'd give for my cell to smell like that.

A man sat in a monstrous desk, reading a book. Once he saw us, he lowered the book onto the table and leaned back into his leather chair. His electric blue eyes scanned me from head to toe as if to assess me before they rested on Schneizel. The handsome man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties by the looks of his ashen hair and wrinkled face, had an air of intelligence, dignity and superiority around him that most prayed they achieved at his age.

It dawned on me then. I sucked in a deep breath, startled by the realization. There was no doubt in my mind whom this man was. The boys in the painting were blonde twins!

This man had to be-

Schneizel stepped forward and said, "Father, I need your help." 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

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