54 - Struggle

"Think of this - that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other."

― A.S. Byatt, Possession

. . .

OLIVIA WOODS

They were cousins.

Alright.

Somehow I had not even thought about the Creeds having a family. Their cousin Killian had died, but I didn't think that they must have other family

members. They had a thirteen-year-old girl as a cousin. Harry MacQuoid was their uncle.

I was curled in my bed with my phone pressed to my ear, talking to Georgia.

"How's everything?"

"You have been acting very weird, Georgia, more than usual."

She sighed. "I was...drunk last time. I know I should have not called you."

"You said 'I didn't do it.' Any idea what you could mean?" I inquired, sitting up. My room had no windows. I hated it. It was as big as the one I had at the mansion and as luxurious, but I hated it. Because I knew they were not going to march inside anytime, demanding kisses, or that I could go and sit on the kitchen counter as Zavier cooked, or sit on Xerxes' lap as he worked, or sit with Ashton's head on my lap as we read.

"Nope. You know I'm a weird drunk," she said and she was right. She talked about weird things when she was drunk.

"Alright," I said, walking to the corner of my room where my book bag was. Zavier had packed the books for some reason. I sat down beside it, pinning the phone to my ear with my shoulder. "What's going on with you, though?"

"Nothing much."

I hummed in return. I unzipped the bag and looked at the spines of the books. I recognized half of them, I didn't recognize the other half.

Dark desires.

Huh?

Sinful domination: mafia romance.

What the heck?

Ropes and clamps.

Her submission: dark mafia romance. There were multiple like this. "Georgi...I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, take care." "You, too."

I hung up, pulling one book out. It had a woman on the cover, she was sitting on her knees with her hands behind her back, the book title was printed hiding her body. New York Times bestseller. The author name was not familiar to me but a quick search told me that they were very successful.

I opened the book.

He pushed his dick-

I shut the book, cheeks flushing. It was the freaking prologue and these people were getting it on!

I looked around, the door of the room was locked. I sat on my bed, snuggling under the covers, and then opened the book.

. . .

ASHTON CREED

Zavier put a hand on my book. "Get the fuck up." He took the whiskey glass from my hand. "I'm sure even the damn books are sick of you now."

I sighed. "Get the fuck away from me."

He glared down at me. "You're not the only one missing her, you know?" He questioned quietly. "We have to work fast to get her back. Alexi hasn't been seen at the book store anymore. He hasn't tried getting Rose back, either."

"So he doesn't give a fuck about her." I stood up, buttoning my suit as I looked at the wall clock of my office. It was late. Was Olivia asleep? I had texted her earlier asking what she was doing, she replied 'reading' and then had not responded to my texts. She must have called asleep. Or was reading something interesting. I'd ask her about that tomorrow.

"Found Georgia?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nope. Bitch is still hiding. I found James, though." He smirked. "Wanna play?"

"Fuck yes."

I walked out of the office with Zavier beside me. Xerxes was standing near the door of his office. "No." "Fuck off." I groaned. "What do you want?"

"I need to interrogate him first. You both will kill him." "We won't." Zavier gave him his 'good boy' smile.

Xerxes rolled his eyes. "I'm coming with."

Soon enough we were in the basement, standing in front of the 'star student' who had made my Little one cry.

"I-I didn't say no but...didn't like how he touched me." "I feel dirty."

She had cried too fucking much that day.

Because of this asshole. James Miller. I'd dump his fucking body in a trashcan.

He was tied to the chair, hands to the armrest with ropes I knew were rough. A white cloth was stuffed in his mouth. The chair probably had blood from

our previous...guests.

I grabbed brass knuckles from the table.

Wearing them, I looked at him, at the fear in his eyes. This...this was my fucking drug. I could be in universities, giving lectures about the damn universe but here, in the basement, I let the monster out. A side of my only my brothers and my famiglia knew.

A side I hid from Olivia.

A side I knew would make her run away if she ever saw it.

I punched him, right on his face. Blood dripped from the cut.

I took the cloth out, throwing it on the ground. "Olivia Woods," I said. "What do you know about her?"

"N-nothing, Mr. Creed. Let me go. You have the wrong person!" He coughed. I punched his face again, hearing the satisfying crack of his cheekbone. He screamed.

"You touched her," I said. "She belongs to us, you know?" I asked softly.

His eyes widened. Tears were trailing down his cheeks, blood dripping down the cuts on his face and from his mouth. "I d-didn't know, I swear!"

I smiled. "Did she struggle?"

He gulped. The need for survival. I could see it in his eyes. "No," he said.

Lie. I could see the lie all over his face. Common men had too many tells.

I grabbed the back of his head and dumped his head in the large container of dirty water beside the chair. I kept his head in till his body stopped fighting and just when I knew he was about to pass out, I pulled his head up.

"Did she struggle?"

He coughed, water spewing out of his mouth, the expression on his face was of a man who knew death was near.

When he didn't answer, I dumped his head into the water again. He trashed, squirming against the ropes which cut into his skin, blood dripping down.

I pulled him back when his body went loose again. "Did she struggle?" He nodded, whimpering like a hurt puppy. "She did."

. . .