Isabella hummed lightly to herself as she crossed the street. The sun was big and bright in the sky, and there was a slight breeze that accompanied the warmth that wrapped itself around her body like a blanket. It was such a nice day out that she didn't mind walking home. She sent a quick text to her brother Roman, letting him know that her ride had cancelled. Although her walk from school to home was less than a mile, Isabella knew her over-protective big brother would not approve of her trek alone, and with good reason. In surrounding towns, young women between the ages of 20-25 were being taken in broad daylight. No traces are left behind; no indicators to who was taking these girls or where they were taking them. The only remnants of these kidnappings were items dropped during the struggle. Isabella had been listening to all of the safety precautions enforced by Roman, her school, and the local authorities, but didn't necessarily take these directions seriously. She didn't believe that, in such a small town, someone could get snatched up in the light of day without there being any witnesses. Especially not on a day like this. It was too beautiful, too peaceful.
So, the young girl continued her walk at a leisurely pace. She had yet to receive any phone calls from Roman which indicated that he was currently in a business meeting and probably wouldn't get her message until later - by then she would already be home.
The brunette only had a quarter of a mile left of her journey when a feeling of paranoia set in. Her unhurried steps turned into long strides as she rushed to get home. The feeling in the pit of Isabella's stomach was nothing she had ever experienced before and it was unsettling. A few minutes passed and the feeling had only gotten stronger. As she went to turn onto her street, a black van with deeply tinted windows pulled up in front of her. The doors flew open and, before Isabella had the chance to react, two sets of hands grabbed her arms and legs and dragged her into the van. Isabella instinctively began yelling for help whilst clawing at everything in her path, but she was grabbed by the waist and throw backwards before she could even get to the door.
"I was hoping you would be more cooperative, love." One of the men told her. He had a quite noticeable British accent and dark brown hair. "Get me the duct tape and the handcuffs. This one is gonna be a fighter." He laughed alongside two other men while Isabella cowered in fear.
"No, don't touch me!" She screamed, kicking at the British man as he approached her with the items in hand. He simply laughed at her before placing a strip of the silver tape over her mouth, muffling her screams. Isabella continued to kick her legs as she was rolled over onto her stomach. Heaviness weighed down on her legs and she turned her head to see the British man straddling her lower half. He grabbed her wrists roughly, yanking them behind her back as she wiggled desperately beneath him and let out muffled protests. Tears trickled down her face as she heard the click of the cuffs enclosing around her wrists; the cool metal almost enough to send a chill down her spine.
She was helpless now - completely and entirely helpless.
Isabella was rolled back over and forcefully propped up against the side of the van, situated so she could clearly see her four captors. A bald man approached her and wiped a stray tear away with his thumb, sucking the droplet off his finger with a sadistic glint in his eyes. "You're a pretty lil thing, aren't ya?" He spoke with a broad Swedish accent, his native intonation thick. "It's going to be hard having to keep myself from getting a piece of you." He gripped the back of her thigh roughly, kneading his fingers into her round bottom. Isabella kicked and screamed against the duct tape as the Swede placed a nauseating kiss to her concealed lips.
"Alright, Cesaro, that's enough." A large, intimidating, bald man spoke. He was in a suit whereas the other men were dressed casually. "We were given specific rules not to touch her once she was apprehended so, unless you're going to buy her, keep your hands off."
Cesaro smirked challengingly at Kane, his hand still firmly gripping Isabella's ass. The small girl whimpered in pain when he roughly grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards the other man. "C'mon big guy, don't act like you wouldn't love to have your way with her." The larger man rolled his eyes. Cesaro, unsatisfied with that response, tore the duct tape off Isabella's mouth in another attempt to pull a confession from Kane. "What about this mouth, Kane, huh?" He grabbed her jaw aggressively, pointing towards the girls mouth as he spoke.
Kane sighed. "What about it?"
"You're not even looking. You can't tell me you don't want this mouth wrapped around your little red monster." Cesaro laughed alongside the British man before looking back at Kane with a challenging look in his eyes. The look on the larger mans face showed displeasure. "Okay, okay... How about these though?"
Isabella squirmed and kicked at Cesaro as his hand gripped the hem of her tank top. "No, please don't! Please!" She begged with tears running down her face. He ignored her pleas and pulled the top up all the way up, grinning at the sight of her lacy pink bra. Closing her eyes as to not see the many sets of eyes trained on her chest, Isabella cried, letting out sobs as grimy hands cupped her breasts.
"Still don't wanna fuck her, Kane?" Cesaro asked. Isabella grit her teeth at the question, fearing the response.
"I'm not one for non-consensual sex."
The Swiss man scoffed. "Well I am. So," He turned to Isabella whose eyes were now open. "You ready for my cock, love?"
As he moved to grab her, a heavily tattooed arm wrapped around her bare waist and dragged her back and behind the body it belonged to. The man, too, was bald with bronzed skin and a broad chest. She had yet to see his face, but Isabella could already tell that he was handsome. "Enough! No one is putting their hands on her." His voice was deep and intimidating and Isabella didn't like how his arm was still draped across her waist, shielding her beside him. Not that she was going to say anything.
Cesaro glared at the man before slumping against the van door next to Kane. "Why the fuck do you care who puts their hands on her, Orton?"
It was silent for a minute as the question was being contemplated. Quietly and unconvincingly, the tattooed man said, "I don't." By the looks of it, no one believed Orton; including Isabella. She still didn't trust him, but there was most definitely a reason why he stopped Cesaro from raping her. But what?
After a few choice words were mumbled under Cesaro's breathe, he took up a conversation with the British guy while Kane feigned interest in something on his phone. Isabella's shirt was still bunched up beneath her armpits but, with her arms so tightly restrained behind her back, there was nothing she could do to cover herself up. She drew her knees up to her chest to conceal her exposed breasts. Silent tears trickled down her face as she thought about Roman. Would she ever see him again? Most, if not all, of the girls that were abducted by these men were never found - despite how hard detectives worked in searching for them. Isabella bit back as sob at the thought.
"How are you doing?" A hushed voice wondered. The voice was close, close enough to cause Isabella to cower in fear.
She looked up and saw the man that pulled her away from Cesaro. Orton, she recalls. She stared at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes and paled cheeks. The helpless look on Isabella's face said more to Orton than words ever could. "W-where are you taking m-me?" The brunette asked softly, her voice raspy from the excessive crying and screaming.
Orton sighed. He hated that question. Having to explain the horrors of the underground corporation that employed him - speaking aloud of what he partook in - was burdensome, but then seeing the look on the girls' face as he explained what the trade was and why they were taken was plain awful. He hated his "job", he really did, but once you're in a business like that - there is no going back.
"You're going to be sold... To a member of our club."
Isabella looked puzzled yet fearful at the same time. "For what?"
The tattooed man opened his mouth to speak when a heavily accented voice cut him off with a sadistically cheery ring to it. "As a permanent sex toy, my dear!" Barrett laughed almost maniacally at the look of pure horror he was given. He would never get sick of seeing the color completely drain from their faces. It was priceless every time.
Isabella had to force the bile in her stomach from heading north. Yes, she assumed that her kidnapping was no different than the others she heard on the news but it wasn't guaranteed. Either way her situation was far from good, but in any other kidnapping at least the victim had a chance of being rescued. In this particular case, the ratio of girls being kidnapped to girls being rescued was 12:0. With statistics like that, there was no hope in Isabella ever being reunited with her brother, instead she was damned to a life of exploitation and abuse.
The small girl let out a sob and hunched over, her grief stricken face hidden in her knees. The sound of an innocent young woman learning her fate had Orton's heart in a vice-like grip. Sure, he had felt sympathy for the other girls but not to this extent. He couldn't even look at her; his eyes found false interest in his shoes. It was nauseating how Cesaro and Barrett found enjoyment in the tears and whimpers and Orton hated them now more than ever.
"Please, I just wanna g-go home." Isabella begged, though the chances of her being released were slim to none. She sniffled. "If you w-want money, I can give it to y-you.." Her brother was by no means wealthy but they were more than comfortable. He owned a gym, wrestled professionally in his free time, and had a separate bank account with money his mother had left for them in her will. Besides, if it meant getting his precious baby sister back; Roman would do just about anything.
The men laughed. "Trust me, sweetheart, the money we're getting just for finding you is more than your family could ever pay." Barrett smirked at her arrogantly, moving over to tuck a strand of dampened hair behind her ear. He leaned forward so that his face was a mere few inches from hers. "And we'll be getting even more once you're sold as a fuck toy. Hell, I may even buy you myself." The British man made a grunting noise as he looked down at Isabella's visible chest before grabbing her by the hair and forcing his lips on hers. Isabella struggled against him, her body unintentionally rubbing against his. The button of her jeans popped open and Barrett's hand sneaked inside, his fingers brushing against the lacy fabric that they concealed.
Barrett swore loudly as the young girl sunk her teeth into his lip. He pulled back and wiped his mouth, growling at the blood that was on his hand. "You little bitch!" He yelled, back handing Isabella. The force of the blow sounded throughout the small van and was accompanied by the pained cries emitted by the small girl. As he was rearing to strike the brunette once more he was roughly pulled back by the collar of his shirt. A pair of venomous blue eyes stared down at him.
"I said enough. Leave her alone." Orton ordered. For some unknown reason, he was feeling more protective over Isabella than all the other girls. He shook it off as nothing more than is irritability towards the kidnappings finally boiling over. Barrett cursed him out before turning towards Cesaro - the two engaging in a business related discussion - but Orton could care less. He looked down at the tearful, scared girl. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly as to not draw any a attention towards them.
Isabella gazed up at him with fearful eyes; her face damp with recent tears, her lips trembling. Her stinging cheek sported a bright red mark that stood out prominently against her tanned skin. Orton moved closer to the girl, sitting in front of her criss-cross so he was more at her level. She was noticeably frightened, her demeanor showing all. "It's okay," He mumbled. "You don't need to be afraid... Not of me at least." Orton waited patiently for any type of a response. Ever so often he would glance over his shoulder to make sure their interaction wasn't being monitored by the others.
Isabella looked from Orton to her shoeless feet and back up again. Should she be afraid of him? In the almost hour that she had been in that van, the blue-eyed man had done nothing to make her fear him but that didn't change the fact that he was involved in her kidnapping. Isabella was conflicted and despite the voice in her head telling her to keep her mouth shut, she decided she had nothing else to lose by talking to this man. "Okay.." She whispered hoarsely. A friendly smile spread across Orton's face upon hearing the confirmation that Isabella did not fear him.
"Good." He said. "I'm Randy, Randy Orton. What's your name?"
The brunette swallowed thickly. "Isabella." Though she was still wary about Randy, there was something about the bald man that made get feel almost safe. It made her wonder why a man like him would kidnap young women for a living. "Isabella Reigns."
Orton's brows furrowed in thought. Her last name sounded familiar but he couldn't remember where he had heard it. He hummed. "Okay, Isabella, how old are you?"
Isabella bit her lip subconsciously, the momentary flickering of Randy's eyes down towards the plump flesh caught between teeth went unnoticed as the girl speculated telling the man more about herself. Since she had already told him her name, there was no loss in revealing her age as well. "Eighteen."
Randy bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scowling. He sighed. Isabella was their youngest captive yet; they had no one under the age of twenty at the club. He knew that because of her age and astounding beauty, the members would scratch and claw to get their hands on such young, fresh meat. The realization made Orton feel that much more sorry for the brunette. As he opened his mouth to speak, his words were interrupted by Cesaro's voice announcing that they had arrived. "Time to get this show on the road, princess." The swiss man grinned. Randy took it upon himself to escort her inside, knowing very well that the others would be nothing but handsy with her.
"Please don't scream, okay? I don't want to have to put duct tape back over your mouth." Orton whispered. Isabella remained silent, frozen from the fear that coursed through her veins. "Okay?" He pressed on, wanting to make sure the girl was as cooperative as possible. She looked up and nodded. Once the others cleared out Randy helped her out of the van. He noticed how he towered over her by almost a foot as they proceeded into what looked to be an abandoned building.
Three heavily armed guards stood in front of an entryway. These men looked like cold-blooded killers; holding their large guns that were pointed forward, ready to strike at any given moment. They nodded solemnly in acknowledgement at Kane and the others before stepping aside so Isabella could be ushered through the doors. She stood frozen in the doorway, trembling as she peered down a long corridor. Slow and sensual music played in the distance. Randy gave her a gentle nudge forward and proceeded to pull her along by the arm.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, they reached the end of the corridor, the music louder as it played from behind a concealed entryway. Barrett grabbed the handle and shoved the door open. Isabella's jaw dropped at the numerous scantily dressed or even naked women, many collared and leashed, performing various sexual acts on random men throughout the club. The young girl let out a broken sob as she was faced with what they were going to force her to do. Isabella felt a presence come up behind her so she looked up, her eyes meeting the sadistic eyes of Barrett. He smirked down at her.
"Welcome to the rest of your life, Kitten."