Book 2, Chapter 8: Fighting Chance

**Madison**

“Give me the gun, Madison,” Damien said calmly. His anger was shining bright in his eyes. His guards that were on the plane had now stood and raised their guns at me.

“Let me go, Damien,” I said, still a bit breathless.

“I can’t do that. You are only going to make things worse for yourself.” He stated calmly, too calmly. He took a step forward and I stood my ground. The gun was now at his chest and he looked at me with expectation. It was only a moment. A breath. A fleeting second or two, but in that moment of hesitation before I could pull the trigger, he grabbed the gun quickly out of my grasp.

He had a firm grip on my wrist and in another flick of his hand, he had turned me with my arm punned on my back and I was pressed against the interior wall of the plane. “Get off of me you douchebag,” I screamed as I wiggled in his iron hold. He was breathing heavily near my ear and our bodies were flush with each other. I could feel his member pressing hard on my back.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to play with weapons, butterfly?” He teased and I saw red. One thing that I know is that he is underestimating me. He has been gone for eight years and I have been training. I have twelve older brothers and they are all his height. So I used my strengths.

He had placed his whole body weight against me, but he made the mistake of opening his legs slightly to trap my legs between his. I was not tall enough to kick back and hit his family jewels, but I could wrap my foot around his calf and that’s what I did. At the same time, I used my free hand that was at my side and leveraged the sturdy plane wall to push against him, twisting my body slightly while pulling his leg forward. His body, being caught off guard buckled forward and his grip loosened enough so I could get out of his hold. It surprised him and that was all I needed.

I pulled my hand from behind my back and turned, lifting my elbow across my head and jabbing him in the face, and then using my other arm, I pushed my palm upwards towards his chin with a mighty thrust. He grunted in pain and stepped back. My small victory was short-lived when I went to throw a punch and he caught my fist with his hand in a tight embrace. I tried hitting him with my other hand only for him to grab that one too. He then pulled me close to his body and pinned both my hands behind my back. I struggled in his grasp.

“Tsk tsk little butterfly. I see you have been training, but it will do you no good. Now sit down or I will have to restrain you.” He commanded. I spat on his face and glared at him, trying to imagine murdering him with my eyes. He cocked his head to the side and tightened his jaw.

“That’s it. On your knees, butterfly.” He demanded. I obviously refused to comply so he forcefully pushed me down and held onto my shoulders. Unfortunately, my head was at the perfect height for a very rock-hard accessory in his pants which made my insides flutter with heat for a moment to many. A guard came behind me and kneeled behind me only to cuff my hands tightly behind my back. Only then did Damien release the unyielding pressure on my shoulders and then grabbed a handkerchief from another guard to wipe the spital off his face.

The guard then handed him a ball gag and my eyes widened. “Don’t you fucking dare Damien Marcus Abizi!” I warned him and shut my mouth tight as he tried to put the ball in my mouth. The guard behind me grabbed my head near my jawline and put pressure with his thumbs forcing me to open in pain, Damien effortlessly placed the large round ball inside my mouth and then strapped the contraption around my head. I whimpered as it tightened around my skull and then heard the click of the clasp. The guard stood and then picked me up like a rag doll, placing me in the chair. I was then strapped in the seat before Damien walked over and pet my head before wiping the tears that were releasing down my face.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay Zemra ime.” He cooed and then I saw the syringe in his hand. Fuck a duck on a truck on a Sunday dock in winter, hells to no. I started to thrash in my seat and tried to beg him but only muffled pleading sounds could be heard with the ball gag. He pinned my head to the seat and unceremoniously shoved the needle into my neck. He leaned down and kissed the injection spot as I struggled to stay conscious. One of the guards brought a blanket over and Damien placed it over me as I succumbed to the drug and closed my eyes into the abyss of darkness.

Sometime later, I woke up with the worst headache. It was like an all-star hundred-person drumline and the Irish Riverdance company was having a friendly competition on my brain. I groaned and nuzzled my head further into a soft cool pillow.

A pillow. I wiggled my body a bit as my senses started to recognize their surroundings. I could feel a warm heavy blanket on top of me and a super soft mattress underneath. I tried to open my eyes but they still felt heavy and ached, their pulse beating to the same drum as my head. I moved my arms to rub my eyes but both were caught and I could barely budge them from near my head. A little ching ching sound had me opening my eyes and I noticed my wrists were secured to the bedpost with thick metal handcuffs. I pulled and pulled on them, attempting to loosen their grasp to no avail.

“UGH!” I shouted and raised my voice again while I continued to thrash against the restraints. “DAMIEN ABIZI, YOU GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW AND UNCUFF ME YOU SON OF WHORE!” I was breathing heavily and my anger was pulsing in my veins.

I don’t know how much time passed. Eventually, my anger subsided and I calmed down. My wrists were now throbbing, which helped take the attention away from the pounding in my head. I was able to take in my surroundings. The lights were off and most of the room was shrouded in near darkness. I could make out a subtle blue light around the rim which could only be massively large covered windows on either side of the bed I was on. The light was subtle in the room and I could see the room itself was painted purple. There were two white doors to my left which I presumed were the closet and bathroom and one white door on the wall across from what I perceive as a king-size bed that I am strapped to with a white duvet on top of me.

The room was about the size of my room back home with ample walking space. There was a white oversized dresser with a mounted mirror between the two doors on the left and an extra-large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall across from the bed. On the right, there seems to be a purple upholstered armchair and a matching chaise lounge. The walls were bare of other décor or personal touches.

I allow myself to sink further into the warmth of the covers and begin to finally process the situation. Damien was alive. He was alive and a formidable opponent. He was obviously very wealthy and just on the observation of the club and car ride, it is clear Damien is a boss and most likely Mafia. He exuded power and authority. I have no doubt the ‘home’ that I am currently residing in against my consent will be grand and highly sophisticated with security measures. Damien spent almost 25 years with my family. He was like another son to my parents. He was the youngest member ever to be inducted into the Omega team other than my brother Julien. His disappearance and presumed death nearly shattered all of us.

I am determined to get my answers. I will bide my time and plan a good escape, not on a whim or in a panic this time. The sound of a lock clicking and the subsequent door opening interrupted my mental planning and pep talk.

In walked Damien Abizi, the legendary dickhead himself. He reached over to the wall next to the door and turned a small white dial. The amber lights in the room began to glow softly. If looks could kill, he would be deader than a decapitated zombie right now.

“Well, good afternoon butterfly. Have a nice nap?” He teased with his bright, shining smile. He was very amused at the situation. “Looks like you are in a bit of a bind, would you say?” He smirked at his self cheekiness.

“This is not funny Damien,” I told him, gritting my teeth and tugging on the cuffs. “Oh contrare Zemra ime. Silver looks good on you. All that’s missing is a matching collar.” He retorted. He still stood tall next to the bed.

“Damien. Unchain me. Now.” My anger was boiling on high.

“Tsk tsk. You are not in a position to demand anything butterfly. Ask nicely and I may be inclined to assist.” Damien’s smirk just accentuated the sparkle in his eyes.

Swallowing my pride and attempting to put out the raging fire inside me, I spoke softly. “Please, Damien? Please get these chains off of me.”

He cocked his head to the side for a moment before smiling. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

It took every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes. He took out a set of keys from his pocket and began to unlock the manacles. He took his sweet-ass time though and to my surprise, he took a moment to massage the sore flesh. He then walked into the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit.

He sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. I had sat up at this point, but my whole body was sore and stiff. Without any words, he took each of my wrists, applied a cooling ointment, and wrapped them in a gauze bandage. I had cut several areas on the sharp edge of the cuffs. His touch was gentle, his breathing was calm. He almost seemed human with a beating heart at that moment.

When he was done, he stood up and said excitedly. “How about a tour of your new home? It's not like you will be able to escape. Oh, and when I say, you won’t be able to escape, I mean it.” He then walked over to the window and pulled open the thick curtain. Moving blue light hastily filtered through the room. I rushed over to the window.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?!” I screamed.

Water. We were surrounded by fucking water. Correction. We were UNDER the water.

"Welcome to your new home, Zemra ime."

Shit. Fuck. Balls.