A constant hum of buzzing met my ears. Delirium coaxed my body awake, my tongue feeling heavy, my brain reverberating in my skull. As if it rising from a comatose, everything was slow and my actions were delayed. My body felt like thick as dried Molasses. When my eyelids pealed open, vision came three beats later. I winced at the light, swallowed and turned my head. The feeling of my neck moving came moments later. I groaned softly. And then, that incessant buzzing reverberated even louder. Like a swarm of bees to the ear. When my vision focused, everything happened at once. I looked ahead of me and my vision sharpened to focus, seeing Nate approaching me from afar with a buzzing tattoo gun in hand.

A helpless cry strained from my throat as I regained awareness, my body thrashing.

"Stop!" I begged, my heart throbbing, feeling so nonsensical as to what was suddenly happening. What was happening? Where were we?

At the restriction of my arm movement, I lean down to see I'm bound to an upright examination chair, rope at my wrists and ankles. I snap my head back up in horror and shriek at the tattoo needle. Nate pauses as the needle of the tattoo gun is just millimeters from my skin. Spiked goosebumps parade my muscles in a thrilling, sheer terror. An exasperated moan of terror wretches from me.

"What are you doing?" I shriek at him, my chest heaving towards the ceiling and plummeting to the floor in rapid successions of hyperventilation. He remains still by my side, holding it in his hands. Black glove covered hands.

I take a few milliseconds to dart my eyes all around me. The dimly lit room I'm in is unknown as my eyes sweep it, sheer terror consuming my body. My breathing is quickened and shallow as I return my glare to Nate; Unadulterated horror takes over me.

Are they going to tattoo me and make me part of their mafia?

With my conscious fully awake, I see Arlan standing before me. His smoky jade eyes coldly sweep over me. Ghostly swirls of cigarette smoke suffuse from the side of his mouth as he exhales. The sulfur smoke was nauseating, choking my throat and nostrils, but the sight of him was even more sickening. He seems perfectly, exquisitley calm.

"Oh, good," Arlan murmurs, dark tone vibrating from his chest. A pang of alarmed fear pooled in my stomach. From the corner of his plush lips, he blows out the last of his smoke. The white wisps danced and spun into a cloud in the vast darkness. "You're here on Earth with us, Dove."

Iced chills of terror snake around my neck. I could barely find a voice, but I will myself to ask where I am.

"What," I pant hoarsely, only to have my voice muffled by Arlan's large hand. A whimpered shriek escapes me as I freeze.

Terror closes up my voice and I find myself petrified, looking above Arlan's rings to see my captor. A button or two of his navy blue dress shirt is open, menacing tattoos meeting my eyes. I then glance to his strong brows, which storm together, shadowing over what I then see -his snake like green eyes. I am sick to my stomach. The panic in my tummy urges me to find out where I am, why I'm tied up, why I woke up with Nate was about to tattoo me.

Nate had betrayed me beyond comprehension the last twenty four hours. I once thought him to be like a brother. He got me comfortable, no, dependent on him. I wonder if that was his plan all along. To get me to trust him only to hurt me, just like Arlan. How could Nate be readily about to stain my skin for an eternity without my permission? To think I believed he'd genuinely help me escape had me feeling like a foolish child. I didn't even spare Nate a glance, so infuriated with him. I only kept my eyes on the devil.

As if he had never clamped my mouth down, Arlan dropped his hand and stepped away. With his calloused fingers off my lips, I scowl in disgust, observing him; He is a portrait of calm while I am a portrait of fear. His features were cool, his composure in tact. Exuding equanimity, his fingers a cherry burnt cigarette back to his lips with his pointer and ring fingers, pursing his lips to inhale. Those smoked out forest green eyes zeroed in on the single tear trailing past my left eye. Exhaling smoke fumes to the right of his mouth, he didn't speak, just watched my tear drip. It settled on the hill of my cheek, before eventually tipping downwards and falling downhill towards my chin. It rested on the valley of my chin, clinging momentarily before dripping off into my lap. Then, he removed his cigarette again, exhaling white fumes.

"You drugged me," I croaked.

"I hate to see you so wound up, Aurora. Think of this as like a...vacation," Arlan imperceptibly offered.

My eyes were large orbs of paranoia, they darted to Nate next to me with the tattoo gun, and quickly back to Arlan. This was like being awake in a night terror.

"Where are we, California? Outside the country?" I panted, my nervous system kicking my stomach like a soccer ball. Blood surging quick and hot through my arms.

Arlan only tilted his head an inch.

"Are we in Russia? " I desperately implored, my terror getting the best of me. I wanted some indication of how far from home I was, but I hoped the idea of being in Russia was outlandish. I couldn't handle that. Why wouldn't he answer me? Oh God, I was going to pass out. I almost wished he'd inject me again, so I could pass out and not bear this panic.

I absolutely despised being away from the familiar, it sent my anxiety into overdrive. It must have stemmed from how many times I bounced around in foster homes, never settling in one home for too long. I often suffered panic attacks the first few months in my new homes, before adjusting. And right when I did, I had to move again. At least when I finally settled into Agatha's home, despite the leaky ceilings, pipes, and flickering lights, I found some comfort in the familiar. Which was ultimately ruined by being taken by Arlan. Even sleeping at Hadley's, away from Arlan, was just as nerve wracking as being at Arlan's. I needed the comfort and knowledge of being close to what I was accustomed to. This deserted, empty room was far from anything I was accustomed to.

My heart and limbs were trembling, I had no idea what kind of sadistic treatment Arlan had planned. All I knew was that I was completely restrained and had no ability to escape from it.

"Would that be so hard to believe?" Was Arlan's obtuse taunt, not answering directly.

Dread sank to my gut like a shipwreck to the depths of the ocean floor. So we were, or might be, in Russia. If we're not, we're still probably somewhere really, really far away and unfamiliar. My heavy chest made inhaling oxygen difficult, a panic attack inching its way. I knew he injected me...and that's all I remembered. How long has it been - several days? Enough to fly us overseas?

Arlan's figure perpetrated towards my trembling being and a timorous whimper caught in the muscles of my throat. The idea that he traveled my body to another country while I was in a drug induced coma was cruel. He was lethal. He rose his hand and my face flinched as I braced myself for what kind of touch it would be. Punishing? Cruel?

But no slap came, no anger unveiled. Just a ginger touch of his finger to my face.

Achingly slow, his velvety, ice tempered finger caressed the outline of my temple. I grimaced as it traced downwards towards the curve of my cheek. I loathed his touch to my skin as he softly finished his trailing touch at my chin, his finger tip resting there. An involuntary, feared shiver tingled my spinal cord as I peered up at him. His eyes were impassive, and he stepped back from me. What was the eerie face caress for?

There was nothing soothing about a soft face caress when you were waking up tied up in a dark room with no access to any information on what was happening. Only fear settled in my system. The man who tried to create a facade of gentle care was the same one who drugged me. I wasn't buying it for a single moment, my nervous system on full guard - as well as panicking to its full extent. The opalescent color of his irises were soon shadowed by the dark orb of his jet black pupil. Another shiver settled its way across my shoulders like crawling spiders.

From behind his back, Arlan unveiled a document. A second shiver crawled up my neck instantly, my palms instantly soaking with clamminess. I could not make out what it was exactly in Arlan's hand, but it was clear he was threatening me with something. My eyes squeezed close, my mind drunk with confusion and fear. What could that be? Was that a record of some sorts? My record? His?

My heart began palpitating rapidly. Was it the police record I filed? Maybe the police at the Fall Back didn't take my word because she was hired by Arlan, working alongside him all along. It would make sense that that's what he had in his hand. He knew. And I was done for. How could I be so unbelievably moronic to report him to the police? It would only come back to bite me, possibly kill me.

The bed of my nails dug into my clammy, sweat soaked palms, breathing trepid.

But what if that police officer had believed me? What if Officer Shailey had believed my word to be sincere and hadn't passed me off to be some drunk fool? When I sat in the Crossbrooke County Police Department office, I was filled with fear, but hope. Hope for a new chapter, one with safety, one with the ripe, fruitful taste of long desired and deserved freedom. I'd have the soothing conscious that I could no longer be hurt, could no longer have Arlan lay a finger on me.

"Aurora," My name echoed off the walls in as I choked on my own gasp. My eyes opened startledly on their own accord, meeting Arlan's.

His smoldering gaze captured mine. How is it that even though his touch is entirely gone, I feel like I am being held down with his arms, not the restraints. His eyes had enough power to make me feel physically dominated without an actual touch from him. There was no sound in the air, not even the natural static that filled silence. My light breathing filled my ears, the pants gentle and hesitant. What was I to say?; It wasn't me? Go straight to denying it? Or should I come up with an excuse, like I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing? Or should I say the cop approached me, and I didn't want to lie? Or should I go to my last defense, which is admitting the truth, but relentlessly pleading him to have some understanding and sympathy of why I would tell a cop I was kidnapped. Who wouldn't, why wouldn't I? I was in danger, being abused, deprived. I craved safety, I just wanted out. I rehearsed the words in my head, 'Arlan, I just want a normal life. I'm sorry I reported you. I want to live with the Blake's, please don't hate me. I'm sorry.'

"Marry me."

My face drained of blood supply as a shallow gasp left me.

"What?" I whispered.

Had my ears been failing me? Was it all a hallucination...or did he legitimately ask me to marry him?

How could this monstrous, barbaric excuse of a man ask me to marry him? He was one hundred percent evil, the only characteristics that made him a human being were his heartbeat, bones and bloodstream. Everything else about him was steel, ice cold, unforgiving, ruthless and inhumane. He beat. He killed. He stole. He kidnapped. He held no empathy, no regard for others. And I was only nineteen; I'm in no place for marriage with him, nor anyone. But especially him.

So were those marriage documents? I could not make out the print on the paper in the poor lighting. Or was it actually the police report, and he was simply proposing as well? A ticking, anxious feeling pattered against the left side of my neck.

"No," I gawked in repulsion. Tears clouded my eyes. My tone raised an octave in disbelief to implore, "You brought me here...to propose?"

A stormed, murderous black glazed over the green of Arlan's eyes. The measure of lethalness in his eyes spoke volumes to me, the muscles of his square jaw instinctually flexed with disdain, ticking. Reminiscent of black storm clouds, his dark brows arches together to shadow his eyes. I guess he was expecting a different, more willing response to me while I was bondaged up in the middle of no where being proposed to someone nearly a decade older then me. My heart slammed against my chest violently.

"No?" He echoed smoothly, solely focused on my answer.

I got the sense from his tone, icy, but not angered, that he was not going to take it as the final answer. He was not genuinely asking, his words were rhetoric, as if I was merely confused and had said no by accident.

"No," I breathe. Panic soon replaced my shock. "Tell me where we are, now!"

"Sign the marriage papers," Was his even-keeled response, as if it were a negotiation.

How was that any sort of negotiation? I could only find out where I was tied down to if I signed away my life to marry a psychopath for the rest of my life? It was mind boggling.

My eyes dart to Nate and I recall how he had mouthed 'trust me'. Or had I been so panicked in the moment that I misread his lips? Had he said something else? Was it 'Don't speak', or 'lights out' ? Was it 'You're fine' or 'hold tight'? I was going crazy. I couldn't decipher if it was meant to be reassuring or equally as cruel. Was he pretending to be on Arlan's side, or did he abandon my side for good back to his lethal boss?

I returned my loathing gaze to Arlan. The veins on his crossed arms flexed when my oceanic eyes rest on his smoky forest ones.

"No...how could I marry you?" I spat, the words poisonous on my tongue. " I'm eighteen, you're my captor...I don't even trust you! You could start earning my trust by telling me where we are!" I demand, brimming with indignation.

"And why do you feel so entitled to know?" His eyes scrutinize me coldly as his head tilts. "I don't have to tell you anything."

My jaw unhinges as a scoff releases from me.

"Another kidnapping from you, transferring my body without my consent, and you think I will marry you," My eyes narrow and close to slits. "Tell me where I am before we even finish this conversation," I threaten.

If he's not going to tell me where we are, I am simply going to silence myself; Though, that wouldn't work much in my favor, considering I had so many other questions to ask (including where the fuck we were, why he drugged me, what he had drugged me with, why he thought he had the audacity to do whatever the fuck he wanted to my body like I was a doll, not a human being...)

His eyes rest on mine, green like the afterburn of a forest fire. He looked at me expectedly but I didn't utter another word. I had already answered his barbaric, nonsensical question, it wasn't up for debate. There wasn't anything I'd be more disgusted or foolish to do than to sign my life away to a sadistic criminal. He wasn't deserving of a wife, he wasn't even deserving of my presence period. It seems as if he still isn't going to tell me.

"No," I assert with an edge of finality. "I will not spend the rest of my life with you, not after everything you've done, all the ways you've hurt me and traumatized me. It's clear you have no care for my feelings, body or wellbeing."

"Well, then," His arms unfold in a relaxed fashion as he pulls down his shirt cuff by his wrist. He then pulls a cigarette pack from his pocket, along with a lighter. Cupping his hand over the lighter, he situates the cig between his teeth and lights it up. I watch anxiously until a cherry red light appears from it. He seems extraordinarily calm. " I guess I'll have Nate tattoo you," He speaks coolly, withdrawing the cigarette from his mouth and exhales.

With that, Nate drew the needle centimeters from my arm.

"No!" I cried emphatically, feeling myself grow small as I began thrashing.

Nate stilled as my eyes pleaded towards Arlan. His cold gaze observed my every shaking breath and rise and fall of my chest. He simply ticked an eyebrow up at me, as if to threaten me. My heart thudded at a fever pitch as the needle rest so close to my skin. With labored breathing and my body sheered in cold sweat, I was on the brink of blacking out. I whimpered, faint. My eyes fluttering. "W-why is it one or the other?"

"It's not. Marry me," Arlan answered simply.

"Tell me your last name," I murmur shakily.

His eyes largen, before he starts chuckling at me.

"Your pathetic ass is trying to negotiate with me?" A dreadful feeling sank into my stomach. "What benefit would that bring me?"

None. I'm just trying to get any information here. Of course he's not going to tell me anything that benefits me.

"This isn't 'Aurora asks twenty questions'. This is you sign the marriage papers, or you get tattooed," He brutally snarls.

"I don't want a tattoo, I don't want either," I cried, my face scrunching. "Is this tattoo going to initiate me into some sort of...mafia thing?"

"What did I say about fucking questions?" He growled, voice thunderous in the empty room. My shoulders flinched harshly. "No, it isn't for Obsidian Wrath. It's for me. Think of like branding. I'm not answering any more questions."

My stomach wretched in disgust as my eyes fully closed. I whimpered into my chest, tipping my chin into it. Just as quick, Arlan jerked it up, facing him and clenching it in his hand. My limbs were shaking like a naked body in the Antarctic, my terror so evident.

He threatened, "I know you don't want to be permanently inked for all of eternity with a tattoo; Especially with what I've picked for you," He sneered, eyes narrowing. I unconsciously starting squirming in my seat and mewling whimpers of fear. "The needle will pierce through that oh so thin skin of yours, Aurora. There will be blood. It will be a painful process, with permanent ink to constantly remind you of it. It cannot be undone. So sign the wedding documents, Dove. Become my wife," He dropped the document into my lap.

My heart fell to my gut in a tangible thud as I peered down. They were actual marriage papers.

It was impossible to process this ultimatum all at once. I didn't even know where we were. I was crushed that Nate was playing a role in all this, and I felt completely helpless in Arlan's horrific game.

I didn't want a tattoo. I also didn't want to marry him. But here I was, awaken from a drugged up state, restrained, and cornered by two men stronger than myself. I whimpered lowly as all these thoughts dawned on me at once. What chance did I have, at five feet, tied down, against Arlan's threats? I was no longer in a position to assert myself, demand things, insult him, or fight back. I was completely at mercy to Arlan's terrifying fate. He was horrifying in the sense that his hellbent journey on continuosly terrorizing me always managed to get more severe. In that moment I really thought he might kill me. I gulped dryly. Then, I tried to find my voice in the tightness of my throat muscles which burned.

"I can't."

"You can't? Why not? Based on what qualifications?" Arlan tested.

"You don't even have a ring," I said dumbly.

"Fuck a ring, I'll buy you fifty thousand rings after you sign the God damn paper," His hands were now fists balled tightly.