BURIED IN THE BLOODLINE

Chapter 3

**Louis’s POV**

I stirred with a ragged groan, wincing the moment my fingers touched my scalp. They came back wet and slick with blood.

I pushed myself upright, blinking against a fogged brain as I surveyed the room. Dim, suffocatingly dark, and smelling faintly of rot and spoiled food. My stomach lurched, and I had to swallow down a violent wave of nausea.

*Where am I?*

The memory of Zayn tumbling down the stairs flashed in my mind, cold and sharp. Was he alive? Did the paramedics reach him in time? Panic flared in my chest, driving me to my feet to pace the tiny room. Who had taken me? Who wanted me gone?

A heavy iron latch clicked, and the door creaked open.

“Look at that. Sleeping beauty finally decided to join us,” a deep, grating voice echoed off the damp walls.

A tall, muscular silhouette stepped into the dim light. He built like a wall—he could snap my lanky frame in half without breaking a sweat. I backed away until my spine hit the cold plaster.

“Who are you?” I managed, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to sound steady.

“Relax, kid. I’m not the bad guy here,” the man said smoothly, resting a hand on the doorframe. “I’m just the driver. Here to deliver you to the boss.” He turned to head back out.

“Boss? What boss? Take me home!” I shouted, my courage surging for a split second before trembling away.

He stopped and looked back, his expression a mix of boredom and dark pity. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so eager to head back. You messed with things way bigger than you. You killed someone, kid. Count yourself lucky I got to you first, and pray to whatever God you believe in that the boss is in a good mood when we arrive.”

Days dissolved into a blurring nightmare. I lost track of time entirely. We traveled only under the cover of darkness. I was fed once a day—sometimes not at all—and my already thin body quickly withered down to skin and bone.

During the endless hours in the back of trucks, my mind kept drifting home. Mom. Jake. Bryan, with his stone-cold stare. *Would they miss me? Are they searching for me?* I shook my head bitterly. No. If they knew what I had done to Zayn, they wouldn’t want me back anyway.

After a month of grueling travel, we finally arrived at a secluded, heavily guarded compound. The second the truck stopped, panic seized me. I threw open the door and tried to bolt, but I barely cleared three steps before Xavier caught me from behind. His forearm clamped around my throat, cutting off my air until my knees buckled and my vision blurred.

He dumped me onto the gravel, panting over me. “Try a stunt like that again,” he warned, his voice dangerously quiet, “and I’ll break your legs before we even step inside.”

I glared at him, clutching my bruised throat as he hauled me up by my collar.

We entered the main building, greeted by the low hum of voices and heavy footfalls. Several imposing men lounged around the central hall. Xavier exchanged brief nods with them, but their eyes locked onto me.

“What’s this?” one of them sneered, leaning against a doorframe. “Boss get himself a new chew toy?”

Laughter erupted around the hall.

“He looks feisty,” another called out, dragging his eyes over me. “If the boss gets tired of him, throw him my way.”

I set my jaw, forcing myself to look straight ahead as Xavier led me deeper into the labyrinth of hallways. My body betrayed me, trembling violently with every step.

We stopped outside a set of double doors that practically dripped money. From inside, the muffled sound of low groans cut through the air.

Xavier sighed, rubbing a heavy hand across his face. “Right on schedule.”

He knocked once, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. I shrank behind his broad back, desperate to stay hidden. Through the gap, I could see a sleek, hyper-luxurious room—and a man casually entertaining a lover in broad daylight, entirely unbothered by our intrusion.

“Where’s the boy I asked for?” a voice purred. It was dangerously calm, smooth as silk.

“Right here, Boss.” Before I could react, Xavier reached back, grabbed my shoulder, and shoved me hard.

I crashed onto the polished floor, scraping my palms. I stared up at Xavier in shock—he had been distant, but he had never laid a hand on me like that until today.

“Well, hello there,” the Boss said smoothly, shoving the man off him without a second glance.

He stood up and walked toward me, his movements fluid and deliberate. Without warning, his hand shot out, tangling into my hair and yanking my head back until my scalp burned. He forced me to look him straight in the eye.

“When someone speaks to you in this room, you answer. Understood?”

Tears sprang to my eyes from the agonizing pull on my neck. “Why... why?” I choked out, raw fear turning into wild defiance. “Why did you kidnap me?!”

He looked down at me, his eyes empty, almost bored. “Because you look easy to break. And I enjoy breaking things.”

A surge of pure, desperate fury swept through me. I gathered every drop of moisture in my mouth and spat right into his eye.

“Read my lips, you psychopath,” I spat, my voice shaking with rage. “You will *never* break me. And you’ll pay for what you made me do to Zayn!”

For a second, silence hung in the room. Then, he started to laugh—a soft, terrifying chuckle that died as quickly as it began. His eyes went pitch black.

“How dare you,” he whispered.

His hand lashed out, striking me across the face with enough force to send me spinning. A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears, blotting out all sound. Before I could catch my breath, his fingers clamped into my hair again and slammed my head down against the hard floor.

White light exploded behind my eyelids. The copper taste of blood flooded my mouth as my lip split against the tile. I tried to push back, to fight him off, but the sheer weight of his grip held me pinned like a ragdoll.

After three brutal strikes, he finally let go, stepping back as if dusting off his hands.

“Take him to the training floor,” he commanded Xavier coldly, not bothering to look down at me as I lay gasping on the floor, bile rising in my throat. “Let’s see if he’s still feisty after a few rounds.”