His Mafia Prince
Chapter 92: He Can’t Die Yet

Chapter 92: He Can’t Die Yet

(MILES)

The aftermath of Arlo’s little visit down the cellar has left my neck and ribs throbbing painfully. Unfortunately, those aren’t the only parts of my body that he left throbbing. Arlo turned me down on my offer and now I’m left to suffer the pangs of a raging hard-on with my hands bound to my back.

It’s probably for the best that he turned me down. The last thing that my situation needs is more complications. The move to tempt him was downright stupid. I need to get my head in the game. My focus should be on finding a way to escape and not to tempt Arlo. Sure, if I’d been successful, I would have probably gotten an upper hand on him. I would have probably gone free if had he accepted my offer.

Unfortunately, he didn’t.

Instead of obsessing over that little brat, I should be figuring out a way to escape this dark dank cellar. The task has gotten a notch harder because he decided to cuff me before he escaped.

I roll onto my side and clumsily manage to stand. I stumble toward the cot and lie on it.

My anger grows with each passing minute. My shoulders and arms ache from being stuck behind me cuffed. The metal restraints are biting into my skin. The more Arlo leaves me down here cuffed, the angrier I get.

I hear muffled voices upstairs and it sounds like the same two voices. Yellow eyes and Arlo. I wonder if he just brought one guy here because if he wants Sasha to come for me, he should have an army. Two people can never be able to stop a force like Sasha.

I finally wane and end up sleeping through the night. It only dawns on me that it’s already morning because of the light seeping into the tiny window above my cot. It’s too small, I can’t escape through it. After years of rain and sun, the window’s glass too is difficult to see through. It only lets on about enough light for me to be able to tell whether it’s day or night.

My throat is dry and I’m dying of thirst. I don’t understand why they aren’t giving me water. If they wanted me to die so bad they would have just injected me with a higher dose of whatever it was they pushed in my system back at the bar.

I know certainly that Arlo enjoys watching me suffer. That I don’t doubt for a moment. He’s definitely some sadistic little bastard.

The door at the top of the stairs clings open again and I sit up. My heart pounds as I wait and shortly after, yellow eyes appear, coming slowly down the stairs with two bottles of water in his hands. I swipe my tongue over my dry lips, salivating at the sight of the water if only I had any spit left.

He gets close enough and then orders. "Get up and face the cot."

I’m so desperate for the water, so I do as he says. He uncuffs me and my hands fall free. I grunt in pain, but I’m glad that I can finally move my hands to the front of my body. The pain is agonizing as blood finally flows back into my arms and my muscles stretch. I bite my jaw to stop myself from whimpering.

"I assume you don’t want food?" Yellow eyes ask as he tosses over the water bottle to the cot.

I shake my head. "No." I reach over and grab the water bottle. My hands are shaky as I twist the lid. I take a first gulp of the tepid water and my body absorbs it greedily as I finish off the bottle. "I don’t mind starving, just bring me water regularly ."

"I don’t have to bring you anything. You should even be glad that I remembered you haven’t had water for a while. Had it been Arlo, you’d have died of thirst already."

I wipe my wet chin. "How is my death useful to you people?" I rasp.

"Honestly, I don’t think that Arlo wants you dead. He just enjoys using you."

"Well, I need water to survive, so maybe you both should think about that. He won’t have as much fun torturing a dead man."

"Look," Yellow eyes scowls. "I’ll pass your concerns along but I need you to get it through your thick skull that I don’t call the shots. I bet you already know that. So quit whining to me all the time."

His words are harsh, but even then, I see a glimpse of regret in his eyes. I suspect that he feels sorry for me. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage in the future. I hope I can.

"I guess I’ll be bait dead o alive, yeah? Either way, you two hope that Sasha will finally show?"

"Mmmh.." he grimaces. "But as I told you earlier, I don’t think Arlo wants you dead yet. He looks forward to spilling your blood on Sasha’s watch. Arlo likes it a bit more dramatic.

"Your boss is the fool of all fools. He’s going to die along."

"He knows that." Yellow eyes shrugs. "I just don’t think he cares."

I shake my head as I sit back on the cot. This has to be the dumbest kidnapping I’ve ever known. First of all, he can never match the strength of an alpha as powerful as Sasha. Second, he doesn’t even have a backup plan. He will be squashed the minute Sasha gets wind of my location. I have to give it to him however that he is cunning. That’s an upside in our world. He managed to lure me into this trap with little effort.

Yellow Eyes is cautious enough to not get close to me because then, I’d grab him. Standing takes more energy that I don’t have right now, considering that I have starved for days.

"Anyway," he says as he begins to move away. "do enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll go to town later is there something you want me to get you? Some flowers, an accent pillow or some comforters?"

I know that he’s just being an asshole, so I don’t bother responding.

Alone once again in my little cell, I get up and begin to pace in the space. I haven’t really explored every perimeter of the space yet. But I’ve checked the place I’m being kept at. My search unfortunately doesn’t reveal any secret passage to my freedom. There are only more raggedy clothing, old books and fishing poles.

I decide that I’ll use whatever is available as weapons, even if it is the fishing poles. I yank one of them and get a sharp edge. This can stab my kidnappers. I grab a fiberglass too and put the tip against the ground. With my weight, I put pressure and it doesn’t take many tries for it to snap. It breaks without producing a sharp edge, and that frustrates me. I try again thrice, but each time, the edges are flat.

I let loose a string of cuss words, still holding onto the pole. It isn’t as sharp, but with the right force, it can trust into someone’s eyeballs. Maybe through their stomach if I’m lucky.

Luck hasn’t been so far.

Situations evolve, and things change. I have to stay positive if I want to make it out of this dungeon alive.

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