It was almost dawn before they found her.
Fitting, it seemed, that he would be the one to stumble upon the girl curled up in a ditch, shivering in her sleep.
It was something his dad used to tell him when they were hunting: "Shooting the deer is the easy part. It's finding the body that makes a skilled hunter."
And here was his deer, his trophy to mount on the wall, her badly bleached hair matted with leaves, her hands caked in dirt as she clung to herself for warmth. Just like hunting with his dad, the blood trail led him right to her.
Alex wasn't sure what it was that stopped him from calling out right away. As a kid, if he found the deer, he'd just shout for his dad, and they'd carry it back to the truck, load it up, and drive off. But something about her made him pause, just a second before he opened his mouth to yell.
The deer were always dead when he found them. But this girl, the only person who had ever been stupid enough to try to run from him…she was still breathing. The only reason she was still breathing was because of just how stupid—or smart, it seemed—she was.
Despite how restless she looked, she didn't wake up until he was crouching down right in front of her. It made sense, he guessed. She made it a couple of miles from the house. The poor thing must have been exhausted.
Her eyes were bright blue when they opened, immediately blowing wide as she gasped at the sight of him.
"Don't, don't," he grabbed her ankle as she started trying to scramble away, holding her back with almost no effort on his part. Whatever existed of her dress to begin with was in tatters, and he had to ignore what it did to him to see her clawing at the dirt with the red scraps of lingerie peeking out from underneath.
"Let me go!" She screamed, trying to kick his hand off of her leg.
"Shhhh," he hushed her harshly. "If they hear you, they're gonna come for you."
The girl scowled at him, finally giving up her futile attempts to escape his grip. "Aren't you one of them?" She seethed. "I saw you."
Alex couldn't help but crack the tiniest of smirks. She was stupid, wasn't she?
"I thought you didn't see anything?" He said almost mockingly, watching the horror wash over her face as she realized what she'd said.
"Oh, God…Oh…Please," she started begging immediately. He liked that about her. She knew how to beg when she'd lost all control. "Please, I won't tell anyone. I swear, I won't! Please, please don't kill me. I have a son!"
That surprised him. Until then, everything about her had been mostly predictable. He knew she was a hooker the moment she'd walked into the room in that dress. He was, admittedly, caught off guard when she'd run away, but it still didn't surprise him. This, however…
"You have a kid?" He scoffed. "What are you, twelve?"
"I'm nineteen," the girl spat back, like that was any better.
Alex scoffed again and shook his head. "Nineteen fuckin' years old," he muttered to himself. "The fuck are you doin' in a place like this at nineteen years old?"
"I just told you," she huffed. "I have a son."
"Mommy and Daddy don't pay your bills anymore?" He whined mockingly.
"Why do you care?" She snapped, clearly thinking he wasn't paying attention anymore and trying to pull her leg out of his grip again. Predictable. And feisty.
"Trust me, babygirl, you want me to care," he said darkly, internally pleased by the disgust on her face at his pet name. "You want me to care so much about your little bastard baby boy that I can't bring myself to dig you a grave right here in this ditch."
The fear in her eyes gave him a deep, depraved satisfaction, and her high-pitched little yelp as he yanked on her ankle twisted his stomach in the best way. She fought until they were face to face, her thrashing and kicking eventually dying out as a hint of curiosity seeped into her bright, terrified eyes. Those eyes. They were so open, like he was looking directly into her soul. So innocent. He could read every single thought as it crossed her mind. She was showing him.
"So, tell me," he growled, his voice low and sultry, feeding on that tiny glimmer of curiosity he'd caught.
She'd been surprised, looking at him up close, in the light. She must have caught sight of his eyelashes, or his cheekbones, or any one of the things about him that seemed to drive women crazy. He'd watched the thought cross her mind, then watched as she shoved it down as far as she could, hating herself for ever thinking it. He's hot.
"What is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"
The girl narrowed her eyes at him, what must have been an attempt to look intimidating. "I saw you murder a guy," she stated accusingly, as if he might have tried to deny it, "And then you tried to murder me. So I ran away, and I ended up here. What more do you need to know?"
"Who says I would have murdered you?" He asked, mocking innocence.
"I saw you…I– I saw you…"
He watched her scramble and resisted the urge to smirk. She was cute. Stupid, but cute. If she'd had a brain in her head and knocked like she was supposed to, he would've liked her.
"You just told me," she blurted suddenly, like she'd just had the epiphany herself. "You said I needed to give you a reason not to dig me a grave right here."
Alex's lips pulled into what could barely be called a grin, but it was still the most emotion he'd shown her on his face yet. "Smart girl," he remarked, again second-guessing his initial impression of her. She was either a complete idiot or the smartest person he'd ever met, and he still couldn't decide which.
"So…are you?" She asked tentatively, looking more afraid to know the answer than to stay in the dark. He didn't respond for a moment and she must have taken that as a silent question because she added, "Gonna kill me?"
"I understood the question," he assured her, the tiniest threat in his voice. She would learn not to treat him like he was stupid. If he didn't decide to kill her, he reminded himself. "Why shouldn't I?"
She looked confused, slightly angry. "I have a son," she repeated again, slowly, like he might not understand her if she didn't speak slowly enough. Clearly, the threat wasn't enough.
In less than a second, his hand was around her throat, pinning her in the dirt as she gasped in shock. "Never speak to me like that," he hissed through his teeth, the fire in his eyes erupting over her face as she clawed desperately at his hand. "We both know you don't give a shit about going home to your son. You wouldn't have shown up at that party if you did."
"That's not true," she squeaked earnestly, her eyes flooded with panic. "I did it for him. He's all I have."
That, again, gave him pause. His grip loosened enough for her to take one deep breath, and he stared at her quizzically for a moment, trying to discern if the tears in her eyes were from fear or real emotion. He thought he had her pinned down—both literally and metaphorically—that she would turn sheepish at the mention of the baby she undoubtedly resented back home, some mistake from her past that she'd spend the rest of her life dealing with the consequences of. But clearly, that wasn't the case.
At his silence, and with a little more breath, she kept talking. "He just turned one," she murmured like they were sitting at a dinner table exchanging small talk, "When he was born, he looked just like his dad. But now I think he looks like me. He's such a sweet boy. He loves me so much. He's…he's too little to know that he shouldn't."
"He shouldn't?" Alex frowned. One tear finally escaped her eye and soaked into the dirt below her.
"He doesn't know his mom is a professional whore," she huffed, and something in the way she said it sounded like someone else's voice, not her own. "He doesn't know I go to parties like this where I can get myself killed by some drug dealer."
"I'm not a drug dealer," Alex scoffed immediately. He was much bigger than a drug dealer, and she should have known that. Drug dealers were terrified of him, and to call him one was more of an insult than she probably realized.
"Whatever," she spat. "You're a bad guy. You kill people. I don't really care what you want to call yourself."
A bad guy. He nearly laughed. He wasn't sure why she was trying to piss him off, but it wasn't working. If anything, he found her cute, thinking she knew anything at all about the world that he lived in, the world he owned, and how it worked. In his world, if she really knew anything about him, she would've been kissing his feet the second she walked in that room.
And she would've fucking knocked.
"You're right," he said casually, flexing his fingers around her delicate throat to keep her from getting too complacent. "I am a bad guy, and I do kill people. But you still haven't answered my question. Why shouldn't I kill you?"
When she met his eyes again after a moment, her fear had disappeared, replaced by a certain fire that took him by surprise. Her hands, which had been limply hanging onto his around her throat, sprang into action again, one wrapping around his thumb while the other slid slowly up his arm.
"I can give you what you want," she purred, sounding nothing at all like the frightened girl he'd cornered in a ditch.
"And what's that?" He asked unnecessarily. He knew what she was suggesting, and he hated being talked down to more than anything in the world. Feigning ignorance was not something he did often, but part of him knew it would be much more satisfying to make her spell it out to him.
"You want me," she stated simply.
Alex scoffed, pretending she wasn't actually right. He did want her, his desire only building by the second with his hand around her throat and the way she was looking at him, but he couldn't give in that easily. "I could have any hooker in the city on her knees for me at the snap of my fingers. Why would I want you out of all of them?" He said harshly.
She smiled at him, and he was surprised at how much he liked her smile. Usually, when girls like her smiled at him, it was fake, because they wanted him to pay them more. They knew how much he was worth, and all they cared about was milking him for as much as they could get. But this girl…this girl clearly had no idea who he was, and her smile was…almost real.
"Because…they're not yours," she mused. "You pay them to do whatever you want, but the moment the money stops, they just move on to the next guy."
Alex scowled at her. "Yes…that's how hookers work."
"It doesn't have to be," she replied, her voice sultry and low. "Let me go home to my son and I'll never touch another man again. Just you. Anytime you want, any place, no matter what."
"Oh, sure," he rolled his eyes, "You girls are notoriously big on monogamy."
"I hate being a prostitute," she hissed, so suddenly and viciously that he couldn't doubt she was telling the truth. The bitterness in her eyes gave her away regardless, and clearly, his lumping her in with the rest of the 'girls' that frequented his parties had hit a nerve.
She seemed to catch herself a moment later, painting the carefree, wanton look back on her face as the hand on his arm ventured down to his chest, brushing over the one open button at the top. Her moves were amateur at best, and it was clear to him that she hadn't been doing this for very long.
Still, she sounded almost sincere when she wistfully admitted, "I just want someone to make me theirs."
"Someone," he repeated pointedly. "You want some guy who'll buy you flowers and take you to meet his parents. You have no idea what you're trying to get into."
She narrowed her eyes at him, having the nerve to look offended, her hand dropping away from his chest. "I guess I'll figure it out," she snapped. "I don't exactly have another choice."
"Yeah, nice," Alex huffed exasperatedly. "The second I let you go, you're gonna go straight to the nearest police station and never look back."
"What would I tell them?" She nearly interrupted him, clearly having already had the same thought herself. "Hi, I'm a barely legal prostitute and I signed up to go illegally sell my body at an illegal party, and you won't believe it, but I saw something illegal happen!"
She was right, and Alex hated that she was right. He turned his head away to mask the bitterness in his eyes at having said something wrong. No one was supposed to know that he was capable of being wrong, especially not some hooker who already had no respect for the name he made for himself. She should've been worshipping him, and here she was making a fool of him to his face.
He should've killed her right that second.
"Please…I– I don't know how any of this works. I don't know who I would even tell. I just want to go home," her voice came to him before he could make up his mind, suddenly small and vulnerable, and he glanced down to see her eyes beginning to shine with tears. "I never wanted to get into this. I can't afford rent, or formula, or diapers, and no one would hire me because I never graduated, and I just needed some money…I never… I didn't mean to…" She let out a sob that was closer to a hiccup, two tears leaking simultaneously from her eyes. "I swear I won't tell anyone. I'll do anything. Please, my son… I can't leave him alone…he's too little…"
Alex sighed, turning his eyes to the ground beside her head so he wouldn't have to look at her crying anymore. It was making him feel too much, the unfamiliar, annoying bubbling of empathy slowly building in him, no matter how hard he fought it. She had seen him kill someone. She was a threat, and he shouldn't have even let her live this long.
But everything about her told him she was telling the truth. Somehow, in his gut, he knew that if he let her live, she really wouldn't tell anyone. She wouldn't touch anyone else. She would hold up her end of the deal, he was almost certain of it. She would be his. Fully, truly his.
And she was beautiful. Even beneath all of the dirt, with her hair in knots and her dress hanging on by a thread, she was beautiful. She was young, innocent, and clearly attracted to him, even if she didn't want to be. She was pretty when she cried. She knew how to beg. And those eyes…
"Alright," he finally said, shocking even himself as the word left his mouth.
"W–What?" She mewled.
"I said alright," he repeated, though he still wasn't sure he meant it. He'd said it on impulse, but truly, he didn't know what to do with her. Killing her would be hard, even for him. He knew too much about her. He had looked too deeply into her eyes, and there was no going back. She was human to him now, and killing her sounded like more trouble than it was worth. "I'm not gonna kill you," he sighed.
She looked a bit surprised that he'd made up his mind so suddenly. "Y- You're not?" She squeaked.
"No," Alex replied. Her face flooded with relief, and he felt anger spark deep within him. She shouldn't be relieved, like she'd saved her own life. She should be grateful to him for sparing her. "But I can't let you go. You should know I can't let you go."
Her relief dissolved, and the old him would have hated the flash of satisfaction that he felt at watching the dread seep onto her face. "B–but my son…"
"You're gonna tell us where you live," he stated, not a hint of question in his voice. "You're gonna go get your kid and pack whatever you have. You're gonna have guys with you at all times. You're not gonna talk to anybody. No signals, no leaving breadcrumbs, nothing. Get your shit and get out."
It was a ridiculous idea, he knew it the moment the words left his mouth. Letting her back into public before he'd even fully taken her was the very last thing he should do. But in his gut he knew that she wouldn't try anything. She was terrified, still trembling under his hand despite his assurance that he wouldn't kill her. She would be too afraid to step out of line. On top of that, she clearly cared too much about her son to do anything stupid that would risk either of their lives.
"I don't have to let you do this," he threatened anyway, to make sure she never even considered it. "My guys even think you're trying to pull something, and they'll shoot you without hesitation, and your kid will be the best drug runner I ever had 'till he overdoses on his own supply at fucking sixteen. You got it?"
The girl nodded quickly, her face frozen with fear like she'd forgotten there were other people involved in his operation. Finally, he released his hand from her throat, watching her closely as he did, scanning her eyes for any flash of a desire to run. She only stared back at him with what looked like a lot of fake confidence to mask all of her fear.
Without another word, he offered her a hand, practically lifting her entire weight as he pulled her up to stand.
"Ah!" She gasped the moment she was on her feet, tumbling back to the ground and landing in a heap. "Ow! Shit! Fuck!"
Alex crouched down next to her, looking her over with his brows furrowed as she curled up in a ball in the dirt, wailing and clutching the ankle that he hadn't been holding onto.
"Let me see," he instructed, surprised at the gentleness of his own voice as he carefully disentangled her limbs, pulling her foot toward him. The blood, he remembered all at once. The exact thing that had led him to her. She was bleeding, and not just a little bit. He quickly found the culprit, lodged deep in the bottom of her foot.
"Ow!" She whimpered as he lightly prodded at the thick shard of glass embedded in her skin. It was a large chunk of what looked like a bottle, and he glanced up at her in shock. How the hell had she managed to get so far like this? She must have run until the adrenaline faded, then hopped on one leg or crawled through the brush for miles after that.
"You're not walking anywhere on this," he stated, taking a few more seconds to look closely at the wound, afraid it may have already started to get infected from her night in the woods. Her stepping on it again certainly hadn't helped with the bleeding, and it was hard to see anything through all of the dirt and dried blood from the night.
"Wh– You can't take me to a hospital, can you?" She asked, looking at him with those giant, innocent eyes, her voice watery and broken.
If she kept looking at him like that, he had a feeling he was going to like this arrangement.
"No," he shook his head, beginning to slide his arms underneath her to lift her up. She resisted him for a few moments, but he gave her a look that said it was not a request, and she eventually let herself go mostly limp in his arms. "I have a guy who'll look at it for you. You better hope your little sleepover doesn't cost you that foot."
Her weight was almost nothing to him, and when he carefully stood up, he nearly let himself smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck with a little squeak, clearly on instinct. She was holding onto him like he was carrying her out of a church after their wedding, not like he was on his way to stuff her in the trunk of a car.
Of course, she didn't know about that part yet.