Feeling used, fearful and hurt, Lyra pulled her knees up to her chest and dropped her face into her own lap, allowing tears to fall. Far along the corridor in the darkness, Kane stopped and stood motionless, listening to her; the woman, his woman, was suffering, and as much as he pitied her, his merciless desire to inflict pain prevented him from returning. Instead, he relished her torture for a few moments; the rage and lust welled within him. Eventually, he strode on and marched, wrathful, into a side nook and collected a full quiver and bow. He slung the weapon on his back. No bells had rung, but not everyone tripped his alarms; there was always some thrill-seeker mooching around his land. He would find them, and they would endure the lust-filled rage that haunted him.
Although Lyra could not see her nemesis, she sensed that he had heard her cries. A feeling penetrated her belly and she raised her head, convinced that he was listening in the distance. She hoped that he would return and release her from the filthy basement, but he did not. Such confusion; two days ago, she had left her lonely life in the city to find a secret paradise. Her life in New York had been one of creativity and exhibitions, after-parties and wine, but she was wholly alone and would return to her apartment drenched with the agony of isolation. Venturing into the wilderness would not relieve the isolation, but she had hoped for some personal peace that can only be found in nature’s paradise.
She had not allowed anyone into her personal space and had left her home on the West Coast at a young age due to her parents’ constant arguments. The city seemed like a lifetime ago. No one had touched her for so long; she believed herself impenetrable, yet this monster had stripped her emotionally bare. She could not forget that he was a monster. Her life was in his callous hands, and that both terrified and thrilled her in a complex wave of emotions that stung her belly.
Rats scurried in the dark, disturbing Lyra further. She could hear their scraping and squeaking; her own breath increased at the prospect of being eaten alive. Every so often, she kicked her legs out to keep the rodents at bay. Each time she tried to frighten the animals off, they seemed to creep closer, as if understanding that she was restrained. Lyra continued to flail her legs, but the squeaking grew ever closer. Mustering her strength, she called desperately into the darkness.
‘Kane, help me!’ The rats brushed against her legs. ‘Kane, save me.’ There was no answer. Deep in the tunnels, carrying his crossbow on his back, Kane heard those words again: Kane, save me. He closed his eyes and sucked his need in with one deep breath before climbing through another trapdoor.
Lyra’s head drooped, resigned to her fate, whatever it may be. She would either suffer the rats or fall at Kane’s blade; either way, the will to fight had left her. She could only wait for Kane’s return, if he returned to her. The cuffs were biting into her skin, and she knew that sooner or later, the pressure of her position would cause her to bleed and the rats would smell it.
‘Race you to the raft, Michael!’ a scrawny brunette girl called, slipping off her clothes as she raced down the beach towards the lake. At the edge of the woods, a muscular lad stared appreciatively, his blond hair flicked back over his chiselled jawline in the breeze.
‘I’m not getting in that cold water, Helena,’ he shouted after her. Helena looked back over her shoulder as her bra slid off and laughed.
‘Things will turn cold if you don’t come,’ she teased. Michael sauntered down the beach behind her. By the time he had kicked off his shoes and clothes and his feet had met the shoreline, Helena was fully immersed and twisting over and back as she swam towards the raft.
Michael’s feet caught the chill of the water, but seeing the girl’s breasts floating wildly on the surface drove him on. He waded in after her and followed her lead towards the wooden raft that sat in the distance.
‘Wait up!’ he yelled as she raced ahead. As an athlete, Michael easily found the body strength to freestyle to her. Helena laughed again, turned and pushed herself forward. His splashing stopped! Helena scanned the shimmering water; her partner had vanished. A cold chill shivered through her.
‘Michael!’ she screamed nervously. Nothing! ‘Michael, this isn’t funny.’ Suddenly, her body was dragged beneath the surface with a terrific strength.
Beneath the surface, a scuffle ensued as Helena wrestled Michael playfully.
‘That is so not funny,’ she gasped as their heads surfaced. Michael met her gasp with a kiss, and she returned his passion. The two embraced, their tongues locked, until Helena released the man and dashed to the raft. She pulled herself up onto the wood and wiped her soaking hair from her face. Worn out, she slumped down and closed her eyes, taking the fresh air deep into her lungs.
Kane had been watching. He had watched the girl’s grossly inappropriate display, baring her breasts. His thoughts drifted to the woman chained in his basement; her torn shirt had long since fallen away and she was imprisoned topless, her beautiful breasts exposed and totally at his mercy. The thought stirred the beast within. He removed the bow and raised it whilst reaching for an arrow. With perfect aim, he pulled the string back, readying the dart for propulsion. The girl was lying oblivious on the raft, but the man was still in the water. Kane released the string, and the arrow shot through the air with a whistle and embedded itself between Michael’s eyes, passing through his head and out of the other side. The man’s body twitched and then sank into the water.
‘Stew!’ Lyra opened her eyes as a torch waved in her face. She blinked, adjusting to the light. Harlon knelt before her. ‘Stew!’ he repeated, holding a plastic container and spoon in front of her.
‘Help me!’ she whispered. Harlon sighed, wishing that he could. He scooped some of the stew from the container and she opened her mouth responsively, and the old man fed her. As she ate, he spoke softly.
‘I can’t help ya, missy!’ he exclaimed. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. The boy wouldn’t much care for Old Harlon interfering like that.’ Harlon stared down at her exposed breasts. ‘That ain’t right now, is it?’ he asked, putting the container down. Harlon slipped off his coat and then an old green cardigan. It seemed impossible to navigate around the handcuffs, so he buttoned the cardigan up over her breasts and looped the sleeves in a knot about the back of her neck to secure it in place. Lyra let out a sob, but the old man ignored it and resumed the task of feeding her.
Michael’s splashing had ceased once again. Helena sat up and peered across the water, using her hand to shield her eyes from the glimmer of the sun.
‘Michael!’ she called at length. ‘Come on, Michael, the joke is getting old now!’ The waters stilled. Helena stared and waited, expecting her partner to burst through the surface in an attempt to frighten her. He did not emerge. She waited a little longer; an awful feeling shot through her heart. ‘Michael! Michael!’ she shouted anxiously, but he still did not emerge. She cast her gaze back to the beach, scanning the shoreline until her stare settled on something mortifying.
Kane watched as Helena edged to the back of the raft. He observed, watching her terror grow, and then stepped into the water, wading towards her slowly and deliberately. His feet remained fixed to the lakebed as the waters deepened. Helena watched in horror as the masked giant headed towards her, steadily being submerged by the lake until she could no longer see him. Her quickened breaths filled the air, and she shifted from one edge of the raft to another, looking into the water for the monster. The silence cast a hideous, grim sensation into the atmosphere. Helena again checked the water surrounding her until she noticed some ripples coming close to the wood from the direction of the beach. She tried to fix her stare on the movement.
In an instant, the raft tipped up as Kane flew from the waters behind her. Helena rolled into the water. The raft had collapsed back into its original position, and the monster stood on it, heaving with rage as the waters calmed. The bow was secured back on his back, and he reached for the hilt of his machete, which screeched as he pulled it menacingly from the scabbard. The weapon twisted in his hands. Helena’s legs trod the water beneath the waves; she gasped and then swam vigorously towards the shore.
As her panic-stricken body reached the shallows, Helena looked back to see if the monster was following. The waters behind her were still, and the raft empty. She heaved herself onto the beach and checked her surroundings again. Her heart thudded fearfully in her chest and echoed through her ears. Ripples formed on the water, and without hesitation, Helena ran back up the trail through the woods. Trees seemed to crack all about her, and her bare feet tore on the debris of twigs shed on the forest floor. She stopped again and looked around. The snap of a branch cracking reverberated down the trail. Helena turned and headed into the woods.
Naked and vulnerable, she hid in the hollow of a large tree trunk. It offered little protection as daylight bore down on her through the trees. She glanced around the silent forest but could see no one. Helena slunk back into the hollow; as she did, the hairs on her neck rose, sensing a dark presence. A huge, gloved hand grabbed her neck and lifted her nubile body up from the floor, squeezing ferociously. Helena struggled and kicked against his massive body, but to no avail.
Kane stared at the girl; her peril reminded him of Lyra. He thought of Lyra helpless in his grip, begging him to save her and lying beneath him, responding so wantonly to his touch. Arousal, bloodlust and desire consumed him; rage and wrath boiled with the tension. He thought again of Lyra: Kane, save me. It was too delicious. He unsheathed his machete and, with one furious sweep of his hand, drove it angrily through the girl’s chest, pinning her to the tree. Kane’s head tilted as he watched the life leave Helena’s eyes. A gloved hand clasped the blade and wrenched it cruelly from the body. Helena sank to the forest floor. Kane grabbed one leg and headed deeper into the forest, dragging the body behind him for disposal.
Lyra swallowed the last mouthful of stew and Harlon dropped the spoon into the container, closing the lid.
‘Please don’t leave me down here,’ Lyra muttered. ‘There’s rats in here.’ Harlon crouched in front of her.
‘Even if I could help you, I don’t have the key,’ he replied.
‘How can you live with yourself?’ Lyra scolded. ‘How can you watch as that thing kills?’ The old man looked her up and down and threw his coat back on, removing the whiskey flask as he did.
‘I don’t!’ he snapped, waving the drink in her face. ‘I survive, missy, like you’re surviving, doing what you have to do so he don’t go killing ya!’ Lyra stared in the old man’s eyes; he had nowhere to go and was as much a prisoner as she was. Her mind clicked at the thought.
‘Harlon, get me out of here and I will take you with me. I’ll help you. Please!’
