Defining Darkness - K E Osborn Page 0,11

loud music or sounds.

We have full control of the lighting—dull, bright, strobe, or off. When they’re off, you can’t see a damn thing.

A perfect torture device.

But, if you want to hold someone without torture, it’s a good place to keep them captive. It has every essential they could need. And if you want to keep someone hidden until you figure out what to do with them, this is the right place. From the outside, it simply looks like a brick wall.

Sitting on the sofa, a woman settles with one hand cuffed and the chain reaching out to the metal bar. Her chestnut hair a tangled mess as her frightened eyes meet mine. Her bottom lip trembles while I take in her features. She’s so much like her, but there’s something that doesn’t have quite the same attraction for me. Her red dress clings to her body, her giant hoop earrings give me more of a picture as to how she and her sister are so different.

“Ivy, I hope you like your new home?” I ask.

Her bottom lip trembles slightly as her eyes shift from me to Void, then back to me. “Where’s my sister?”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Fuck! You two are excruciatingly repetitive.”

Ivy sits up on her knees, hope building in her doe eyes. “Is she here?”

I step further into the Brick Cell, her body instantly tensing as she sits back further into the sofa. I raise my hands to placate her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ivy. In fact, I saved you from being hurt…” I grin. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ivy’s brows furrow as her gaze shifts to Void. “You talk more than him.” Her head tilts toward Void.

I peer over my shoulder with a smirk.

Void rubs his neck, turning his back to us as I let out a chuckle.

“Void is… well… he’s void of emotion. He doesn’t do small talk. Don’t take it personal.”

Ivy relaxes a little as I sit on the other end of the sofa. She observes my every move intensely.

“Is Eva here?” she asks again.

I roll my eyes. “Relentless. You’re made out of the same mold. For fuck’s sake, yes, she’s here—”

“Can I see her?” She sits taller on her knees, her eyes pleading with me as her hands come together in a begging gesture.

“Can’t do that, Ivy.”

“What? Why?”

“She doesn’t know you’re here.”

Lines crease her forehead as she sits back on her legs. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Honestly, I don’t understand either.” I run my hand through my hair.

“You’re not making any sense?”

I let out a frustrated groan. “Fine! I want to spend time getting to know Eva. I won’t be able to do that if she knows you’re here. She’ll want to protect you. To leave with you. I’m a selfish bastard, but I’m not sure how to do this any other way.”

She lets out a shocked grunt. “You’re holding me down here so you can woo my sister?”

Void snickers.

I shoot him a glare.

He stops immediately.

Then I turn back to Ivy. “What the fuck! I don’t know what I’m doing. Whatever! You’ll be comfortable down here. You can have anything you want. Tell Void… he’ll bring it to you.”

“The fuck, Nycto?” Void blurts out.

I ignore the bastard.

Ivy makes herself comfortable on the sofa. “She’ll never fall for it, you know.”

Exhaling, I shrug. “It’s not a trick, Ivy. I… there’s something about her—”

“Is that why you took us? And those other women?”

“Fuck, no. I didn’t take you. Someone else did that. He was gonna sell you all off into sex rings, made to be sex slaves, or worse. You and Eva would have been separated and never would have seen each other again. I could have just kept Eva. She took my interest, but I knew if I didn’t keep you, too, she would never forgive me.”

Ivy mellows a little. “Sex slavery?”

I nod.

She blinks a few times. “Why us? Why were we taken in the first place?”

“Can’t be sure. I don’t know why Andrés chooses the women he does, but you, Ivy, you were special. I believe you were the target. And because Eva would come searching for you, they had to take her, too. That’s my guess, anyway.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “You’re saying we’re both in this mess because of me?”

I shuffle closer, but she doesn’t flinch away, which surprises me as I rest my hand on her knee. “It’s not your fault. You meet some damn criteria. Your looks. Your personality. Your age maybe. Where you’re from. You