Stolen: The Prequel

  Stolen

  The Prequel

  Dani René

  Copyright © 2018 by Dani René

  Published by Dani René

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Do you follow me?

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Drake

  2. Caia

  3. Drake

  4. Caia

  5. Drake

  6. Caia

  7. Drake

  8. Caia

  9. Drake

  10. Caia

  11. Drake

  12. Caia

  13. Drake

  Afterword

  Prologue

  ONE CLICK NOW!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Stalk Links

  Also by Dani René

  Foreword

  Please note this story is dark and contains numerous triggers. If you find something difficult to read, it’s best to steer clear of this book.

  Thank you

  Blurb

  I never believed in evil.

  I never thought the devil was real.

  Until I was stolen.

  ***

  I knew Satan existed.

  I was convinced I’d be like him one day.

  Until my heart was stolen.

  Would she be the one to set me free?

  Or will I be the one to steal her life?

  *This is an extremely dark story with numerous triggers, please be warned. Due to scenes of an adult nature, this book is for 18+ ONLY.

  Do you follow me?

  If you’d like to keep up to date on my new releases, sales, and all the news for future work, check out my social media links, or sign up for my newsletter and get a free, unpublished novella, exclusive to my newsletter subscribers!

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  Playlist

  The Unforgiven - Metallica

  Behind Blue Eyes - Limp Bizkit

  Nothing Else Matters - Metallica

  Death Hymn - Lucas King

  Dancing with Your Ghost - No Resolve

  Sociopath - Lucas King

  Blue Blood - Laurel

  Deep End - Ruelle

  Don’t Let Me Go - Raign

  My Eyes Adored You - Denmark + Winter

  Do You Really Want To Hurt Me - Denmark + Winter

  Angels - Within Temptation

  Eyelids - Pvris

  Find the full playlist here

  Dedication

  This is for those who like to dive into the darker, twisted worlds, this one is for you.

  Prologue

  Drake

  There are only so many dead bodies you have to bury before your life becomes nothing more than a long-winded repeat.

  Over and over.

  Again and again.

  The blood is the same.

  The graves are the same.

  I smile when I do it now. When I dig a six-foot hole, I revel in the harsh stench of bodies — rotting and vile. It’s a reminder I’m a Savage. I was born into this life, and I’ll die in it.

  The pieces of flesh and bone still chill me to my soul, but there isn’t any salvation for me. My life has been tainted by the sins that come with the last name I’ve been born with.

  I bear the sins of my father.

  I carry the cross of his actions.

  And one day, I’ll be forced to run the organization he’s built.

  With each body I dig a grave for, and with every heart I’ve seen cease to beat, I know there’s no escape. As much as I want to run, there are people here I can’t leave.

  Two boys.

  My brother.

  My best friend.

  They’ll forever have me here, living the life the man who’s kept us prisoners for so long has forced us into.

  A dark journey.

  A sordid road.

  And there is no escape.

  Unless . . .

  We’re severed.

  1

  Drake

  Closing my eyes, I breathe in the stench of the dungeon. No matter how many years I’ve been here, I’m still affected by the smell of the filth my father keeps them in. Each cell — cold and desolate — empty except for a bed and a bucket. When I first came down here, I was shocked, angry, confused, but it’s become normal.

  We all have our crosses to bear. Mine comes in the form of a family name I’d rather never have been born with. Every day, I wish I’d died with my mother when she birthed my brother and me.

  My job is simple though. In this hell, I’m the one who gets them ready for the horror that lies ahead of them. I take those pretty, stolen toys who are thrown into the cells and I make sure they know there aren’t any cuddles and sweet words. I’m the asshole parents warn you about.

  Pulling on my suit jacket, I take a look in the mirror hanging against the gray wall in the dank office. This room is dimly lit for one reason — it’s where the cameras are set up. Where we watch them. My dark hair is disheveled as usual, the blue in my eyes a stark contrast to my tanned skin. Most of my father’s female clients want to fuck me. The men want to bend me over and make me grunt their names and beg them to hurt me, but that’s never going to happen. I don’t do shit with clients.

  I do, however, get to touch the pretty toys we get in here. If they’re listed as virgins, I don’t go near them; but those who aren’t, they’re fair game. A good, hard fuck eases the tension for a little while.

  No love.

  No affection.

  Just pleasure.

  It’s who I’ve become, and I’m proud of it. I’ve been told before I’m a bastard, and I wear that label with pride. It’s easy to turn off the switch. There’s nothing left inside me; there is only death in my eyes. I’ve perfected the icy glare that has every girl cowering when I stalk into her cell.

  I’m broken.

  I’m off limits.

  I’m Drake Savage.

  And like the name says, I am a savage. I’ll fuck you up so bad nobody will recognize you — physically or emotionally. My favorite though is mentally. Fucking with someone’s mind is my forte. It’s the one thing I strive to do well. Needling my way in, into the depths where you hide your fears. That’s where you’ll find me. And that’s where I’ll lie until the moment you take your last breath.

  The only people I allow close are my best friend, River, and my brother, Dante.

  All cameras are on when I
cast a quick glance at them. In an hour, Frederick will be here to watch them. His thankless job is to make sure the toys don’t kill themselves by doing something stupid, like bashing their skulls against the wall or some shit.

  I head out to the long hallway leading to the kitchen. It’s empty. I know it will be because nobody is up this early. Our home has become a wasteland to love and affection. When I used to walk into the rooms, I’d find traces of our babysitter, but she walked out when we turned twelve. There’s nothing even close to warmth in this place. The old woman couldn’t deal with my father and ran. She never looked back, and I don’t blame her.

  Even though she offered some semblance of motherly love, it didn’t help. I was still tortured by what I’d witnessed. I broke long before the day she said goodbye to us. My father and his organization have different ideas about what kids are for, and I was shoved into the life long before I even knew what any of it meant.

  I always tried to protect my brother from it, but before long, he was taught we can never have a normal life. We’d always be the broken boys. The darkness in our souls will eventually completely take over, and we’d be just like him.

  Just like the monster who made us.

  Just like Malcolm Savage.

  2

  Caia

  I shift.

  I can’t move without my muscles protesting.

  They’re angry and rabid.

  There’s a burning sensation that seems to be coursing through my veins, in every part of me. I feel as if I’m on fire. But when I’m still, the scorching heat isn’t there. So, I lie there, my eyes closed. Heavy from something I’d been given, I can only guess.

  I can’t recall what happened. My head is filled with a foggy reel of blurry images. I can’t pick them apart, and I can’t remember where I was or even who was there. I think it was a birthday party. The girls from school, those whom I called my friends, told me to go along for the ride. And I did. For the first time in my life, I broke my father’s rules. They weren’t really friends, but they were the popular girls, and I wanted to experience what it was like in their world.

  Being the daughter of a well-known multi-billionaire, I’ve always been kept within the confines of my father’s rules and regulations. His face is always plastered in the newspapers. His name is mentioned online more times than I can count.

  I’m meant to keep myself on the straight and narrow. Nobody would know I’ve smoked a joint. And I enjoyed it. No one would ever guess I’ve kissed a boy. And tonight — at least, I think it’s tonight — I was meant to have sex.

  My first time.

  There’s an icy ache in my limbs causing tears to sting behind my lids. I don’t know where I am, but when I finally crack my eyes open, I can’t see anything in front of me, only darkness. There aren’t even shadows to promise me a sliver of light in the space I’m in. Perhaps I’m locked in a box.

  My fingertips trail along my arm, and I feel blood — at least, what I would guess is blood — dried and cracked on my skin. When I woke up moments ago, the cold was so harsh it caused my teeth to chatter loudly. I try to move again, to roll over, but it’s pointless.

  My body is rigid, almost paralyzed.

  It’s cold. Bitterly cold. It’s as if I’ve been left in a freezer without any clothes or blankets to stifle the temperature. My arms prickle, as if a thousand pins are being shot into my flesh at resounding speed. I blink. The tears that burn my eyes dry before they reach my ears. I’m on my back, looking up into blackness so thick it threatens to choke me.

  A click echoes in my ears like a foghorn warning a passing ship. A clank. The scrape of steel on the cement floor, or what I’m guessing is concrete.

  “There she is.” A deep rumble comes from somewhere in the darkness. I expect my visitor to say something more, but he doesn’t. Silence falls around me again, enveloping me in its stifling madness. No words, not even a scuff of a shoe. Another switch clicks, and I’m bathed in a faded-yellow, luminescent glow.

  “Wh-what am I do-doing here?” I croak, my throat protesting at the measly utterance. Five whole words voiced from my lips, and they sound like sandpaper grating against wood.

  Raspy. Harsh.

  I blink. Once. Twice. When my vision finally clears, I’m met with the steel-gray glare of a man I’ve never seen before. He’s older, far older than I am at my eighteen years. He may even be as old as my father. His hair is silver, matching his cold eyes. There’s a dusting of stubble on his face. It’s dark, yet there’s gray streaks through it as well, hinting that he must be in his early forties, perhaps even older.

  He has a smirk on his face, evil, almost devilish. When he leans in closer, I try to make out who he is, but he’s a stranger to me. The corner of his mouth kicks up; a sneer curls his vile mouth. He looks satisfied that he has a girl, a young girl, tied up in a dungeon.

  What will he do to me?

  I can’t think about that right now. The only thing I need to focus on is the asshole before me.

  “Your daddy sure does love you, poppet,” he whispers across my skin, causing goosebumps to dot my bare flesh. The deep baritone of his voice vibrates through me, reminding me he’s in charge. He doesn’t need to tell me; it’s clear in his expression.

  I shiver, both from the cold and his ferocious stare. He looks angry, but there’s another emotion brewing in his stormy eyes.

  Lust.

  “What?” I croak once more, only to earn myself a chuckle so deep and rumbling it sounds like thunder rolling in.

  “He wanted me to pay him five million for you,” the stranger informs me. “But I believe you’re worth so much more than that.” This time, he coos.

  His hand reaches for me, his knuckles trailing a white-hot path down my icy cheek. The warmth of his skin against my almost-frozen flesh is a welcome comfort, and I find myself leaning into his touch.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a husky tone. “I’ll be your daddy now.”

  “No, no,” I whimper, pulling away from him, but he’s too fast. Thick, calloused fingers grip my face harshly, turning my head to face him. His eyes glow with feral rage. His voice may have been the thunder, but his actions are the storm. He forces me to look at him, and I know there’s no way I can fight the blizzard of this man. I’m ready for the lashing of lightning to burn me alive.

  “Listen to me,” he commands with fury burning through his words, igniting fear within my very core. “I don’t care if you say no. In fact, I want you to say no. When you fight and wriggle against me, I’ll fuck you harder. I’ll make you fucking bleed all over me, all over my cock, and when I’m done, I’ll ensure you clean me with your pretty pink tongue.” His laugh is manic, vibrating off the walls as it tumbles from his slim, red lips.

  “Sir.” A voice at the door draws his attention. “We have contact,” the man says. When my captor moves, I get a glimpse of the stranger at the exit to the hell I’m locked in. His eyes land on me for a split second before averting his gaze to his boss.

  “And they know what we have?” my captor questions. The answer is a nod. “Good. Get her ready.”

  The stranger walks into the room. He has a confident stride, as if this is the most natural thing for him to do. His body is large, foreboding, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. I take him in, wondering if I could fight my way free. If I can get my hands on a weapon, I’ll be able to do something other than lie here like a fucking toy.

  The dress shirt he’s wearing is a dark color, but not black. Perhaps charcoal. His slacks match, but his boots are black leather with worn cracks. He doesn’t speak, but I take my time watching him move around the room.

  He fills a bucket from the sink in the corner, the sound of water causing my bladder to ache.

  “I need . . .” When I utter the words, he spins on his heel to pin me with a glare. “I, uhm, need to pee,” I tell him as embarrassment flushes through me, heating my cheeks, traveling down to my chest.

  “Piss yourself on t
he mattress. The next girl won’t be here till it’s dry.”

  My mouth falls open, gaping at him in shock. Horrified at having to do what he said. I turn away, attempting to not listen to the trickle of the tap.

  “Don’t mind me, doll, I’ve seen much worse.” This time he chuckles. “Working with him, I’ve cleaned piss, blood, and shit when he’s finished with one of you, so you’re definitely not special,” he continues, not looking my way.

  He picks up the bucket and strolls over to the icy metal bed I’m bound to. My wrists ache. Pins and needles pierce me as I tug and pull to get free, even though I know it’s a pointless exercise. Standing above me, he takes the bucket and tips it over me and the mattress I’m lying on.

  A squeal of surprise is wrenched from me, bouncing off the walls. I tug on my restraints only to have the twine bite into my torn skin, and I feel the trickle of water and blood as it oozes its way over my flesh.

  The cold has nothing on what I feel now. My body is frozen. My limbs lose all feeling, and my teeth chatter loudly against each other.

  My tormentor captures me in his arms, and I realize he’s unbound me from the headboard. Even though I’m loose, I’m free, I’m still bound in another way. I’m so cold I can’t move but then he’s lifting me. My arms flail, one at my side and the other on my lap.