Finding Forgiveness

“Andrea.”

“Andrea…” I repeated. (pronounced Aun-drey-ah)

“I like the way you say that, Blanca. And fortunately for your safety, I like you too,” he said holding my chin between two of his long fingers. “I’ll see you around,” he added before leaving the warehouse a few moments before two guards came in and stood silently and motionlessly behind me.

“Do you guys have a toilet?” I asked the men stood silently behind me after about an hour.

Andrea hadn’t returned but he had sent a glass of water which had, of course, due to the lack of food in my system, travelled straight through me.

“Suck it up,” one replied abruptly.

I waited another half an hour before I was close to wetting myself.

“Seriously need the toilet now,” I said shaking my leg.

“Tough. Go in your panties.”

“Can you get your fucking boss?”

“He has more important things than taking putas to the toilet.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want my urine on the floor either. He certainly won’t be clearing it up…”

Just then Andrea marched into the warehouse. He was wearing an irritated expression and came straight in my direction.

“Se? or, ella necesita el ba? o,” one of the men said.

“I know. All I can hear is her fucking whining,” he said gruffly. “Untie her.”

The guards instantly began fumbling with the ropes around me.

When I was freed, he gripped my upper arm and dragged me to a door on the opposite end of the warehouse. I didn’t mind the unnecessary roughness due to the fact that the sense of relief that I was finally going to the ‘ba? o’ was overwhelming all other emotions.

On the other side of the door was more stacks of boxes as high as the ceiling all taped up but obviously filled.

“What is in all of this?” I asked.

“I thought I told you not to ask questions,” he said gruffly before we reached yet another door. “Do your business quickly so that I can get on with mine,” he added opening it to reveal a small toilet and even smaller sink.

He pushed me in and closed the door.

“What exactly is your business? You’re the boss but what do you actually do?” I asked from the toilet as I relieved myself. “You have people to do all your dirty work. Exporting, dealing, guarding, kidnapping-”

“Shut the fuck up, Blanca, or I will kill you,” he said in growly? yet oddly light tone as if he was amused.

“Do I entertain you, Andrea?” I asked pulling my jeans back up and going to wash my hands.

“You are different,” he replied.

“Gee, thanks. I’m flattered,” I said sarcastically trying to scrub the dirt from my hands. “And your soap is shit.”

“I didn’t know what soap was until I was eight,” he said before I gave up with the crappy attempt of hygiene and opened the door.

“So like last week then?” I asked with a smile.

“You pretty face will only let you get off with so much, Blanca. Take that as a warning,” he said, the humour in his voice fading.

He then seized my arm again and lead me back to my very comfortable hard wooden chair.

“How long do you plan to keep me here for?” I asked as he knelt down and began tying my ankles back to the chair.

“Hmm… I don’t know. Until Juan can walk again perhaps… or maybe until the second coming…”

“That could be tonight for all we know,” I said. “But suppose it isn’t, you can’t keep me tied up here forever.”

“You do not understand… how do you say in English…. ugh… you have the wrong end of the stick,” he said placing his hands on my knees. “The day I let you go will be your death day. You stay with me until then.”

He then stood up and walked around me to tie my hands behind my back.

“How far away is ‘then’? Only I’m 24 and was hoping to live another 60 years at a minimum.”

“You have so many questions, Blanca.”

“Are you going to kill me or not?” I said wincing as he tightened the rope a little too much around my wrists.

He then sauntered back around and crouched down so that we were face to face.

“Don’t piss me off and I won’t kill you.”

“So potentially I am going to live out my natural life tied to this chair?” I asked.

He smirked before his eyes flickered down to my chest which due to the fact that my arms were pulled behind me, was sticking out rather a lot.

“Perhaps you’d be a little more fun tied to my bed,” he said with a smirk before standing up and leaving the warehouse once again.

I shuddered at the thought of being with another man. He wasn’t ugly, quite the opposite actually, but he wasn’t Leo and Leo was the only one I ever wanted to think of me like that.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

Leo’s POV

I arrived in Mexico less than 12 hours after Luca called me and it had been one of the worst half days in my life. I’d been away from Ella before not knowing where she is but the difference this time was that there was no question or doubt about it. Her life was in danger.

Nobody knew much about Andrea Martinez. He was a master at hiding and secrecy which only made him more dangerous and this situation more difficult. How do you find rescue your mate when she’s with a man that can’t be found?

Most of his men only knew him as the boss and had never actually seen his face. Everything we knew about him in the Stella pack was through what Luca had learnt from Guillermo (one of his most trusted, yet surprisingly easily paid off employees) and even his knowledge of who he was working for was incredibly limited. And just to tick it all off, Mexico was a huge country and we didn’t even know where to start.

I stepped out of the airport into the bitter dry air and scanned for Luca’s car. The sun was beating down onto the dusty road and radiating back up the most unpleasant way. Besides the odd? limp whisp of weed or scuttling beetle, there was hardly any life and when you looked out beyond the runways of the airport, there was only sand and desert for miles.

“I fucking hate the south,” I said to myself as I thought back to the deep green forests and glistening blue lakes of my pack lands in the North.

A few moments later, a dusty grey car pulled up in front of me.

“Morning, Alpha,” Luca’s voice said as he rolled down the window.

I blocked the sun from my eyes with my hand and looked in at him, instantly noticed the dark circles under his eyes and his unbrushed hair.

“You look like shit,” I told him.

“And you look hot and sweaty. Get in, I have the AC on,” he replied.