Unmasked Volume III

By: Cassia Leo

CHAPTER ONE





DAIMON





T he true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.





At one time, I thought I understood this quote from G.K. Chesterton quite well. It’s a quote about war and a soldier’s purpose. It’s about fighting not because you detest your enemy, but because you must protect the ones you love. But it all becomes so murky when your enemy and the one you love are one in the same. The rules of engagement shift. The front line is blurred. And the





stakes are higher than you could ever fathom.





From the side of the house, I watch as my enemy, my Alex, cautiously approaches the front entrance to her cottage in La Palma.





She opens the door and gives it a gentle push. Then she enters one slow step at a time.





Following behind her, I walk softly so I can maintain the element of surprise. Alex’s hearing is better than the average human’s.





This is what happens after eight months of living in the dark. All your other senses are enhanced. Which is probably why she yiel-ded to me so willingly when I touched her.





Her skin ached to be caressed. Her tongue longed to taste my flesh. And her sweet pussy yearned to be filled.











I wait until she’s walked at least six feet into the living room before I lightly shut the front door. The sound of the latch clicking into place gets her attention. For a moment, she’s frozen. Waiting for another sound.





Waiting for me to breathe.





I take one long stride forward so her back is less than a foot away from my chest.





“Ready to play, chérie?” Her left arm swings back and I easily catch it in my left hand.





“There’s those killer instincts again. I told you they’d get you into trouble.” My right hand flies up and I jab the needle into the side of her neck. She struggles for a few seconds before she collapses in my arms. Right where she belongs.





“What… what did you give me?” Her voice is muffled by the drugs, but her eyes





are locked on mine as I carry her to the bedroom.





“Fentanyl. Don’t worry, chérie. It’s safe for you and the baby.” She opens her mouth to respond to this, but all that comes out is a soft mumble. She’s almost out. I lay her down on the floral comforter and her eyelids flutter as I begin tying her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. By the time I’m done restraining her, she’s asleep.





I dig into my back pocket for the small silver case containing a single syringe of Narcan to reverse the effects of the Fentanyl. The Fentanyl will wear off in less than an hour.





I’ll only use the Narcan if absolutely necessary.





I conduct a cursory check of the cottage to make sure we are indeed alone, then I drag a dining chair into the bedroom and





keep a close eye on her heart rate and breathing as I wait for her to wake up. Forty-three minutes later, her eyelids flutter open.





Her eyeballs roll around a little in their sockets as she fights off the drowsiness. Finally, her eyes focus on the ceiling for a moment before she feels the restraints. Then she begins to panic.





“There’s no use struggling, Alex. You’re in no condition to fight.”





She struggles against her bonds, her torso bouncing off the mattress as she tries to gain enough leverage to free herself. “Untie me!”





“Really, Alex, you should stop that. At least give your body a few minutes to recover from the drug before you get too excited.”





“Fuck you! Get these off of me!” I stand from the dining chair near the bedroom door and walk toward the bed.











“Alex, I’m only going to warn you once more.





Stop struggling. It’s not good for the baby.”





“Oh, I’m sorry. I missed the part in What to Expect When You’re Expecting where being drugged and tied to a bed is recommen-ded for a healthy pregnancy. You don’t give a flying fuck about this baby!”





“Don’t say that, chérie,” I whisper, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “You must never say or think that I don’t care about our child. I care a great deal about you and the baby. That is why I’m here, Alex. That is why you’re here. We need to talk. And something told me you’d be less than receptive to my side of the story. This was the only way I could get you to listen. So you will listen.”

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