Chapter Two- Captive and the Captivated

Amara's POV

I spent the entire uncomfortable ride feeling around the back of the trunk for anything useful, only to feel a reminder of my circumstances. Only rope and a recently used shovel left me to swallow hard at the idea of my body being forced in the ground while still breathing. It wasn't uncommon for a brutal death to be found by a Brady, so I ensured the second I could, I would fight like hell.

When light finally made its way inside, I began to claw and kick. I managed to surprise them enough to strike a shin and scratch a few lines into skin but was ultimately lifted to my feet beyond my efforts.

"Behave and maybe we won't make this hard for you..." Before I could recoil in a bitter response, I was caught off guard by my surroundings. If stories of my ancestors or my father's enemies and their demise were anything to go off of, I should have been looking at a warehouse or yacht of some kind. Instead, I was looking at an office building that ascended high enough to hurt your neck trying to see the top floor.

"Walk or I'll have no problem dragging you by your hair." It already throbbed from the former assault and so I took a step forward in acquiescence.

It seemed whoever was behind this was reasonable enough to want to talk business before ending my legacy beneath forgotten dirt. For that, it was worth being wise instead of hotheaded.

I was led by a hand on my shoulder until a set of elevator doors encased the three of us inside. The man limping behind me lowered to his knees before hitting my calf to lift up. Looking down at him I realized the source of his motivation was exclusively for his benefit, but void of anything lustful.

"Off." He directed at my shoes, understanding the weapons they were and refusing for me to use them as that very thing again. So barefoot and bound by intimidation and curiosity alone, we climbed the endless floors before coming to a stop.

"Go-" I was pushed before I could obey, falling to the floor of a vacant meeting room complete with a long table, a window for a wall, and a fireplace already lit at the center. It seemed bizarre for what should have been something used for business but it offered a sense of warmth to my cold skin as I was on all fours in front of it.

Directly in front of the fire.

And the poker just within reach.

I waited until they were comfortable with me being still before reaching for it, the fist of the closer man knocked me down before I could strike. The metal chimed against the hardwood at the same moment distant steps came closer.

"What the fuck did you do?" One henchman asked the other as I reached for my eye that was already swelling.

"You're late..." A gravel voice broke the stiff silence as my body came alight to it. It was not layered with the thick accent of those around me so far but was somehow familiar. I began to wonder if he was a former ally to my father turned backstabber. Maybe even an enemy who threatened him in status via a phone call which was why I recognized it. Either way, I had to go off of sound alone as my eye was watering too much to see straight.

"She made things difficult..." A man's shoes came beneath my gaze as his response stunned me to stone.

"I wouldn't expect anything less..." He began to lower to me, fingers almost tracing my skin, as I was quick to pull away.

"What do you want with me?" My question was ignored as he must have seen the bruising forming on my skin.

"I said nobody was to touch her beyond what was necessary to get her here." The apparent boss scolded as his men seemed too silent to respond.

"The bitch put her heel through my foot-" Before the man I hurt could offer his entire reasoning, the explanation was cut short by the sound of a shot sizzling through the air. It was enough to send my eyes upward and in awe of the man hovering over me. His attention was elsewhere as I was forced to observe him in which detail.

"Let that be a reminder to anyone who forgot..." With a jerk of his head, the motionless body was pulled away and we were left alone.

He stood over all the other men in the room by at least a few inches with muscles taking no mercy on the dark fabric around his arms. Tattoos colored over tanned skin that tensed as he turned to face me, taking up any visible surface beneath his shoulders. But it was the makeup of heterochromia eyes of brown and blue that took my breath away.

Not just because of their beauty but because I'd seen them before.

"I didn't want it to be like this..." He confessed as my heart came to a full stop in my chest as he offered a hand. Without a second thought, I trusted him, just as I had once upon a time.

"I-" I struggled to respond as I continued to stare at him. Every feature that had changed drastically had now faced me unapologetically, waiting for something.

"I've waited fifteen long years to hear your voice Maree, please don't hold out on me..." It had been too long for me to count. If I was being honest, too painful to keep a record altogether. He seemed motivated by it as he kept looking at me in a way I should have been frightened by. As if I consumed him.

"You're supposed to be dead..." The truth slipped as he tightened beneath the reminder of the reality I knew. A sober nod came before his eyes dropped just long enough to raise back after that silent thought.

"There will be enough time to explain..." He closed the distance between us.

"For now..." His eyes fell to my dress.

"Off." It was a request without ill intent, almost as if it had been a favor. It wasn't until I looked down to the stained emerald fabric that I understood why.

"You're covered in blood..." My eyes came to the motion he made of his own shirt, unbuttoning it before I could speak, and leaving me speechless. He was a complete collection of muscle and ink that made it hard to focus on the blood on me or the fact he was the reason behind it.

"I won't apologize for doing it but I'm sorry you had to see it." He offered his shirt as I was slow to accept it, still enamored by the change of him.

"Let me know when you've changed..." He turned his back to me, showing off even more tattoos. It was this change of scene that directed my attention to the shirt in my hand.

Making quick work of the zipper I could reach at my back, I pulled the dress shirt over my torso as it hung well to my knees. Once it was loose enough to drop at my feet and I was covered, my mouth opened before I could stop it.

"Alright." He turned in a smooth spin, stalling to the sight of the dress falling at my ankles. Swallowing hard with a tick of his jaw, he lowered to retrieve it. I watched with the expectation he may even fold it away for dry cleaning. He walked just past me and flung the fabric in the fire instead, moving to the far end of the meeting table completely shirtless and without the guilt of the last hour.

"Come..." He offered the chair on the opposing side of his own, separated by the corner of the desk and a melting bucket of champagne.

"Jackson-" His name was almost painful to speak as I refused to for the last decade at least.

"It's Jacks." He corrected gently before motioning again. This time, I followed his guidance as he looked at me with wonderment. I suppose it was the same I must have given him after all this time apart. But where I was astonished he was here, he seemed to be almost relishing in something. It was clear that he was not the young boy I had no choice but to leave behind half of my life ago, but he was still mine nonetheless.

My Jackson.

"Well then...Let's start…