Knight Takes Pawn: Red Knight, #1

ONE

NATALIE

The taste of copper coats my tongue as a ringing echoes in my ears. My head throbs from the blow administered after the dacker flailed his body backward, slamming me against the wall. I almost lose my grip on the now sweat-slicked chain, but I refuse to let go. He bucks a second time, forcing my head to fly back and collide with the barrier again. Though I’m wedged between him and the cold, gritty wall, I can tell that he’s on his last few breaths of life.

His fingers frantically claw at the metal that’s wrapped around his neck as his body becomes stiffer with each passing second. Faint gurgling sounds escape his open mouth as he desperately tries to suck in air. His body starts to slump, but my tired muscles flex harder, coaxing his fate to settle in more quickly. After about ten more seconds, his fat, greasy body collapses to the floor.

Positioning my right, bare foot in the middle of his back, I yank even harder on the chain. When the coloration on his face starts to change, I finally begin to slacken the reins. My arms shake violently from how long my muscles have been tense.

While I wait for the others to return, I sit on the edge of the bed with my back against the headboard as my knees are curled up to my chest. I’m unable to cry because that’s what I’ve done the majority of the time for the past few days since they captured me.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but some time later, two guards from earlier come barging into the room which is locked from the outside. They shout profanities and some other words I can’t make out, obviously commenting on the scene displayed before them. It’s not that I can’t understand them; they’re speaking Jaruian. It’s that my brain doesn’t focus on any single word as they bounce around in my head like a set of drums.

One of them comes close to me. His arms whipping around in the air as more unheard words escape from his rank hole. I don’t bother to look at him and continue to stare at the man I just killed. I’ve never taken a life before and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Mixed emotions run through me, but regret is not one of them. It was either him or me, and I chose him. The asshole paid money, I’m not sure how much, to have his way with me for a few hours.

My head flying to the left is paired with a sharp stinging grabs my attention. I don’t whimper. I don’t cry. Everything that has happened to me the past few days feels even more surreal now.

The boss will hear about this, bitch, one of the voices threatens.

I guess his slap brought me back to reality, allowing me to finally comprehend their words. My eyes lift to find his. I stare him down, hoping that he sees the anger and hatred in my gaze. He inches his face closer to mine, but I don’t budge.

Let her be, the other one states.

What for? he questions. She dacking killed him.

The dacker had it coming, the other says. Boss didn't like him that much. He always marked up the girls bad enough where they’d be out of commission for a few days. He was costin’ us money.

Whatever, he huffs, turning away from me. Help me get him out of here.

I’m left inside the room without another word. The only sounds that are distinguishable are the door lock being switched into place, the faint percussion of music seeping in through the walls, and my heart pounding in my chest.

The small, makeshift bedroom with a bathroom, that is missing a door, still wreaks of that bastard’s body odor, causing me to dry heave a little. I’m not sure if I’m above or below ground since there isn’t a window in my tiny domicile.

I was knocked out right after they grabbed and bagged me just a few blocks from my home. When I woke up, I had a massive headache that could have been from either being hit over the head or drugged—perhaps both. Sensations of being fondled during my transportation fade in and out each time I dream or am touched by anyone, especially men.

Not long after I arrived, they had a group of women clean me up. My clothes were removed and they bathed me in a large, cement bath that was embedded in the middle of the floor of the room. I timidly kept my body covered as much as I could as they washed and rewashed my body to get rid of all of the dirt and stains. My hair was washed twice before they ushered me to another area. The women hand dried my body with small hand towels and then had me lay down on a leather-bound table where they then proceeded to wax my legs, underarms and genital region. My hair was trimmed next and styled before I was given a thin, skimpy dress to wear without a bra or panties. The women chatted quietly on occasion as they tended to me and most offered me an apologetic smile when we made eye contact.

Once I was ready, the ladies knocked on the door I originally entered. Two guards reached forward, grabbing my upper arms forcefully and escorted me away. They flanked me on either side as we followed one in front of us with one more trailing behind. I was then led to the room where I currently reside and given some food. They gave me just enough to take me away from the edge of hunger, but not enough to fully nourish me.

Two meals came each day with a small snack in between them. The food wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t good either. They gave me some juice a couple of times, but mostly water. If I needed more to drink, I was left drinking from the questionable sink in the bathroom with the use of my hands. Utensils were never given with my food, even if the option was not finger-food.

Yesterday, I was inspected by a male doctor while two other women were in the room. None of them said anything other than the doctor directing me to stand or move as he checked my body. He was very thorough and took a lot of notes.

Each night I’ve slept, it hasn’t been much. I wake to every little noise, worried that an unwelcomed intruder will arrive. I wasn’t exactly sure what they wanted from me, what they had planned, but I had a pretty good guess and it was confirmed when they let that bastard into my room tonight.

A familiar sound draws me from my thoughts and I stare at the closed door, hoping that I was only imagining it. The wooden door creaks open and three men walk into the room. My throat dries and my palms begin to sweat, nervous by their blank expressions. I recognize the two from before, but not the third. I silently pray to the Gods, if they even exist, that he’s not the next customer in line.

What is your name? the unfamiliar man asks.

My body trembles with fear as I can’t find the ability to answer him; nor do I want to.

It doesn’t matter, he says softly after a few more seconds of waiting for me to respond. He shifts closer and sits on the foot of the bed.

I watch him carefully, concerned with what he may do to me.

His eyes drift down to the spot on the ground where my victim previously laid. Is that where it happened? he asks, gesturing in front of him. Is that where you killed him?

I don’t follow his hand as I try to gauge his tone and expression. He almost seems amused rather than pissed at the fact that I killed the man.

His eyes lift to my face and his eyebrows raise a little.

I nod.

His gaze drifts down my body and back up. Where did the chain come from?

He brought it in with him, sir, one of the goons states. From the sound of his voice, it’s the dacker who hit me.

Who let him bring in his own toys? the man, who seems to be in charge, asks sharply.

They both remain quiet.

The one in charge slides closer and reaches forward toward me. I flinch, but it doesn’t seem to surprise him. He waits a few seconds before taking my chin. My gaze returns to him. The look in his eye tells me that he doesn’t intend to hurt me. His large, rough hand gently guides my head to turn a few inches to the left and then right. Which one of you struck her? he questions a little more calmly.

Breaker, sir, the one who didn’t hit me states.

Quiet, Breaker seethes through his teeth.

Leave us, the man directs.

Sir? the one called Breaker questions.

The man in charge shoots to a standing position and without another word, the two guards comply. Once the door is closed behind them, he turns back around and faces me. I’m not a fan of my good paying clientele being killed, he states calmly.

I don’t comment, fairly confident that he’ll do something to me regardless if I do speak and doesn’t care what my response would be.

Do you know who I am? he inquires.

My head bobs slightly, confident that I know his name; Jagger.

He takes a step forward and studies me for a moment. You did do me a bit of a favor, though, he states eerily. He was costing me some money…more than what he was paying now that I think about it.

I squeeze my hands together more, nervous about how this can play out.

But, I still can’t have my clients being killed when they pay to have their way with you. He pauses for a few seconds. Though…it was his own fault for bringing in the chain.

Staring at him, I’m not sure what he expects me to do. I will fight to the death to protect myself.

I’m guessing you aren’t sorry, he assumes. And, why should you be. He would have broken you…physically…but, I’m not so sure that he would have broken your spirit. He takes two steps forward and places his left hand under his chin as he supports one arm with the other. And, I’m guessing that you’d put up another fight if I sent another client in here, wouldn’t you?

I don’t comment, but I’m sure he can read my thoughts when he looks into my eyes.

After a few moments of silence, he says, However…I think I just might have an idea that would work for the both of us.

TWO

NATALIE

The man who I think is Jagger never told me his idea; part of me wants to know and the other part doesn’t. He left without another word and only a wicked smile transfixed on his face. I’m not quite sure how many days have gone by since I’ve been in my room now The days and nights seem to blur into one. They haven’t sent in another client since I killed, leaving me alone except for when food is delivered. No one talks to me and they barely even look at me.

There isn’t much to do in my room. Other than the bed, two nightstands that are empty except for a lamp on each one, a chaise at the foot of the bed, an empty closet without a door, and just the basic pieces of a bathroom, my accommodations are more like a prison cell than a dack room.

If I’m counting correctly, five days have gone by since the night I killed that man and nothing happens other than a little extra food during my meals. A client isn’t sent to be serviced, Jagger doesn’t make a visit, and no one else comes into my room. The following day, the guards come in not long after I’ve finished breakfast. One of them takes the tray with the plate and cup.

Get up, barks Breaker.

I don’t move.

I said, get up, he repeats, snatching my upper arm and yanking me to a standing position.

I reach for his gun, hoping to arm myself, but he catches me by the wrist.

Don’t even dacking think about it, bitch, Breaker sneers.

Don’t leave a mark, the other directs.

Dack off, Breaker spits, twisting his head slightly. He looks back to me. Jagger wants you. Now, move. He shoves me toward the door.

My feet shuffle forward from the force of his shove and I stop in the middle of the doorway. Suddenly, a bag is draped over my head. I try to pull away as my arms are bound in front of me, and I’m hurled up over a shoulder. My arms and legs flail, desperate to get away.

Quit squirming, a voice directs.

I don’t listen.

Either you stay calm or else we’re going to knock you the dack out, he adds. It’s up to you.

I force myself to settle, hoping that I’m not misjudging the tone in his voice. My body bounces with each step he takes and his shoulder presses hard into my stomach. I feel us go up steps and it sounds like we take several different hallways until a door is kicked open. Metal doors creek and I’m tossed harshly into something. I fight the tears that want to pour down my face as my body shakes with fear. At least one of them gets behind me from the sounds of footsteps echoing off of the walls. The doors are shut and a thud on metal scares me.

Let’s go, a voice calls.

My body tips to the left as the vehicle begins to move. I sit against what I think is an interior wall, curling my legs into my chest. Nothing is said by anyone else in the vehicle. I’m cold and shivering from the minimal clothing I have on and the chill from the air seeping in. A little time passes and they either don’t bother to put on the heat, can’t, or did and it’s not going to reach the back part anytime soon. My body jerks when I suddenly feel something brushing over my skin.

Relax, the voice says that is across from me. It’s just my jacket. It’ll keep you warm.

I nod my thanks through the bag over my head, but I’m not sure if he can see my response. My body warms slightly from the new layer, but the cold metal tingles my exposed skin.

At some point, the vehicle comes to a stop. The doors open and the guard who was sitting with me scoops me up, cradling me this time. He gently lowers me and my bare feet come in contact with some kind of stone or concrete that is cold to the touch.

If you promise to be good, I’ll let you walk, he informs.

I nod furiously, wanting to have a little bit of control. My eyes dart around, trying to make out some bit of light through the cloth that continues to reside over my head. There isn’t a single hole to allow light to come through.

A hand takes a hold of the rope that’s wrapped around my wrists and tugs me forward. I follow quickly and fumble when he leads me through a few steps. After a variety of turns, my feet eventually hit something smooth, marble-like, quickly followed by fabric that feels to be carpet, and the sound of doors closing echo behind me.

What is this? a voice that sounds like Jagger questions. Is this how we treat our guests?

She’s not a guest, Breaker challenges.

Is this your house? Jagger asks angrily with his voice getting closer.

No, sir, Breaker replies.

I didn’t think so, Jagger says. "Make my guest more comfortable. Now!"

My body jolts at his last word and then the bag is suddenly removed from my head. My eyes blink rapidly as they try to adjust to the lights in the room. The nicer guard takes my arms and cuts the rope free. My hands dart to my wrists, wanting to rub away the chafing feeling.

Ah, my dear. How are you today? Jagger asks.

My eyes find his.

Did the boys treat you well? he searches.

I shrug my shoulders.

Jagger looks behind me. Leave, he says, waving his hand dismissively.

She’s sneaky, sir, Breaker challenges.

I smile slightly at his statement. Anytime he or any of the other guards came into my room, I’d try to attack or escape, using whatever was necessary. They knew I was a fighter, but they didn’t know to what level until I killed that fat dack.

Do you doubt my intelligence or ability? Jagger asks snidely.

No one replies.

Do you honestly think that I’m stupid, Breaker? Jagger challenges with an eerie look in his eye; a look that I would not want to dack with.

No, sir, Breaker replies with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Then, leave us, Jagger directs sternly.

My eyes stay on Jagger as distancing footsteps are heard behind me.

Come in…sit, Jagger bids.

I take slow, cautious steps and sit down on a leather sofa that is perpendicular to a fire and opposite from a similar couch Jagger is now standing in front of. The heat from the flames is inviting and soothing.

Did they treat you well after our little chat? Jagger inquires, sitting down.

My brow lifts in question.

They were to feed you better, Jagger informs.

My head bobs slightly.

Well, I’ll make sure they apologize, Jagger states.

I shrug my shoulders, not expecting them to really apologize or caring about it.

Well, Jagger begins, I want you to know that you’ll have better living arrangements from here on out. I only expect cooperation and respect. Does that sound agreeable to you?

My gaze shifts to the floor momentarily as if to indicate that I need to think about it before returning to his face. I nod hesitantly, nervous as to what Jagger wants me to do in exchange for my better arrangements.

Good, Jagger cheers. He waves his hand and I’m not sure what he means by it.

I jerk to the left when a man dressed like a waiter comes close to me whom I notice is holding a tray with a glass filled with liquid.

Drink, Jagger instructs. It’ll warm you up.

I glance back and forth between Jagger and the glass before I reluctantly take the drink.

I’m not going to poison you, girl, he laughs. I’ve got too much planned for you.

I offer a timid smile and take my first sip. The smooth, amber liquid burns the back of my throat a little as it goes down. I take a second sip which allows me to enjoy the flavor more.

I had to make certain and necessary arrangements for us to do this, Jagger shares. You’re the perfect fit and something my less favorable clients wouldn’t expect from a paid service.

I cock an eyebrow.

Are you ready to hear my plan? Jagger asks.

THREE

NATALIE

My new room is a lot nicer. It has a full, king-size, posted bed, silk sheets, a dresser for my clothes that don’t hang in the closet, two night stands with lamps, a lounging chair, a few books and this time my bathroom has a door. The amenities are more pleasing to the eye like I’m staying at an elegant hotel that seemed to only exist before the wars. The kind only the elite in our society could afford.

To pass time as the days continue to tick by, I’ve started to train myself to wake up before breakfast is served. I jog in place, do pushups, situps, and anything else I can come up with to strengthen my body and mind. I need to be strong and ready for what’s to come.

It seems like a week since I’ve seen Jagger. Some fancy clothing had been delivered to me today that were paired with a note. The note was from Jagger and all it said was to be ready for our business transaction to transpire.

I use one of the hooks from a clothes hanger to make notches on the frame of the bathroom door as a way to try to keep track of each day. After lunch, I slowly move about the room, trying to find something, anything, that can be used as a weapon. So far, I can break up a wooden hanger or two to use as a stake, but that’s about it.

When Jagger explained what he wanted me to do, and if I complied, he promised I’d receive certain additional benefits. Better food and lots of clothing would be an improvement. I still haven’t spoken to him or anyone else because I don’t trust any of them. So, I just smile and nod when they expect a response.

I’m not sure how much time has passed, but tonight was the third time I was expected to service a client for Jagger. The clients paid to get access to my room, thinking they’re going to have their way with me. They’re escorted in by two guards, usually the same two, and neither of them are Breaker.

The clients would approach me in one fashion or another; some were timid while others were aggressive. When the opportunity presented itself, I’d use the choking wire that one of the guards had previously given me to strangle the man to death before letting him have the chance to touch me. Some clients thought I was playing a game of cat and mouse, but they’re always confused with who is the cat until I get the wire around their neck.

Right after each kill, I knock on the door from the inside to let the guards know I’ve finished my job. Four guards come into the room, the two who were always outside my room when I was to service a client and two others; one of them is always Breaker.

During my seventh kill, I got daring. Just as three of the four guards dragged some fat dack out of the room, I pounced on Breaker and managed to get the wire around his neck for about a minute until he