Broken Revival Read online

  I can't trust him. I can't trust any man.

  My eyes closed on their own, much easier than I’d thought they would. I’d never been allowed to sleep so much, no matter how sick I was. I’d only really been sick a few times while I’d been held in the cell, and never this bad. My entire body hurt. I could feel my body wanting to cough, but I did my best to not allow it, so I wouldn't draw attention to myself.

  Attention was never a good thing in my life.

  Chapter 4

  Elijah

  Plopping down in my black leather chair, I held my head in my hands. The girl, Dawn, was so lost to the pain and abuse she’d suffered. I could tell she had no idea how much pain she held inside of herself. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been in that awful place, but I knew it was longer than any of the other girls. From her submissive personality and reactions, it would be a hard road to get her to not be so withdrawn. I would do everything in my power to help her find out who she could become.

  She still had a fever, and I’d given her Motrin. If her temperature wasn’t down by the end of the day, I’d be calling my father to come check on her. I’d have to call him soon anyway, so I could get a checkup done and her injuries documented. He was the only man I could trust to give Dawn the health care she needed to survive.

  Taking her to a hospital was out of the question. With her most likely tagged as a runaway like many of the other slaves, it would bring up flags when her name was entered into their database. I didn't want her taken away—she would be safer with me.

  However, her health had to be documented down to a T. It had to be to bring her abusers into custody with charges. Any little thing would add to their sentence, and this case could come to a close.

  While Dawn took a shower, I changed the sheets on her bed and called my mother. I didn’t have a whole lot of food she’d be able to eat. I was hardly ever at home lately, with my demanding job.

  Groaning, I opened the FBI database on my Mac and entered her name into the search engine. I hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t who I was thought she was, and I hoped beyond hope that she was, and I had found her. If she was my Dawn, I had no idea what I would do.

  Dawn

  A few hours later, I was awoken by someone sitting beside me on the bed, smoothing my hair back from my forehead. Groggily, I opened my eyes and saw a blurry Elijah. I blinked again, not understanding why he’d woken me up. Did he want me to service him? If so, why couldn’t he just stick his dick wherever he wanted it?

  “Time to rise and shine,” he smiled. “My mother is getting a bowl of soup ready for you.”

  Huh?

  I pushed myself into a sitting position, wrapping my arms around my knees. The lamp closest to me was on, making a soft glow around the room. It was dark outside as I looked through the slight opening of the curtain-covered window.

  “I would have woken you up sooner, but you looked so peaceful.”

  I remained silent, looking at the place my toes were under the covers as I tried to keep my tears at bay. My throat felt like it was on fire, and my body like I had been run over by a truck . . . three times or more. I was afraid of what was going to happen to me. When would he quit being kind?

  “Are you feeling any better?” Elijah asked, ducking his head down to try and meet my eyes.

  I closed them and shook my head. I felt worse, like death was knocking on the door, but at least my head wasn’t pounding right now. My throat was still sore and my chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.

  “As of right now, I recommend lots of rest until you’re better. Your fever isn’t as high, but you kept coughing while you slept. After you eat, I have some medication you can take. It’ll hopefully kick this bug out of your system.” He laid a hand softly over my own.

  This time, my body didn’t jerk at his touch.

  “Hello, dear,” greeted a woman as she came strolling into the room. I kept my position, but saw her frown from the edge of my vision. Her clothes were simple for this late hour. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made one of Elijah’s favorite soups. I didn’t bring much up, just to be sure you liked it.” She handed me the steaming bowl.

  Slowly, I moved my arms from around my knees. I grabbed the blue plastic bowl tighter than needed, afraid it would be taken away from me. Morgan would do that constantly, and I learned to just wait it out most of the time.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I whispered, looking up at her through my eyelashes. She had shoulder length light brown hair, and warm green eyes. Her face was familiar, but I couldn’t place where I may have seen her before. With my cloudy thinking, I probably wouldn’t be able to anytime soon.

  “Oh, none of that nonsense. Call me Joslyn,” the woman smiled warmly.

  I nodded before I began to eat the food, trying not to gulp it down. The soup was warm and soothing along my dry, scratchy throat, and the bowl heated up my chilled hands as I ate.

  “Joslyn is my adoptive mother,” Elijah explained. “She will be staying here with you tomorrow while I have a few meetings I have to attend. I expect you to rest.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered as I finished off the bowl of soup.

  “Here is another Motrin and some Nyquil, which will hopefully let you sleep better. We don't want to give you an antibiotic until the doctor checks you out. Joslyn will be here when you wake up, and I will check on you a few more times,” Elijah said, taking the empty bowl from my hands with ease. He took enough care to not touch me more than he needed.

  “Okay,” I said through a yawn once I’d swallowed the medicine. Joslyn then helped me to lie down and tucked me back into the bed. It didn’t take long for my body to sink into the mattress in oblivion.

  Elijah

  I had explained to my mother as much as I could about the girl who would be staying in my home. I’m sure she didn’t entirely believe me, but didn’t push. Of course, I had to make her promise to not let slip in any way that I was working undercover. I knew my parents would be safe, since Galvin wouldn’t be able to tie anyone to me from the documents I’d forged. Having friends in low places was always a bonus—even if it was against FBI protocol.

  I had to do what had to be done if my boss wanted this ring of felons to be brought down.

  Dawn Ellis’ father had been good friends with my parents until his death seven years ago. Dawn and her parents had been to my parents’ home many times before they’d moved, shortly before the death of Quentin, her father.

  Dawn used to look up to me. Now, she had no one to look to for help except me.

  I hated the idea of leaving her alone, so I gladly let my mom keep an eye on her for a few hours after she insisted on helping. I knew the poor girl was confused, and being so sick on top of it didn't help matters.

  Once at the office, I briefly explained to Zack and Kaleb, my bosses, about my findings, along with giving them the papers I’d had my father put together as her tending physician. The fewer people who knew about what was going down, the better. I knew there was at least one leak in this office, and I didn’t want word to get out more than necessary.

  We sat in one of the smaller conference rooms. The three of us sat around the table as I told the full story of how I’d come across Dawn. It was difficult to keep my tone even as I described what I’d found so far.

  I was surprised by what I’d found when I’d searched for her in the database. The girl had been kidnapped from her home while her mother worked the night shift. It was Dawn’s fourteenth birthday—one that would never be forgotten. The house was a disaster, showing signs of a struggle.

  There were no leads to who had taken her, or where she could possibly be. Knowing where I found her, I could only imagine what kind of abuse she’d suffered through. She’d been missing without a trace for over five years.

  I read through the interviews of her mother, mother’s boyfriend, and the neighbors, but no one knew anything about what had happened. They each had clear alibis, and no one was considered a suspect.

&nbs
p; She was the main reason I’d trained to be an FBI agent. Since I’d graduated high school a year early and then college in three years, I was one of the youngest ever to enter Quantico. I wanted to make a difference to the young children and women who went missing every day with no leads, no suspects.

  I was good at what I did, and everyone around me knew it, too.

  “I think you should be taken off this case,” Kaleb said, looking at me with his gray eyes. His look sometimes unnerved even me. It wasn’t like he could read my thoughts, but it sure felt like it more than once. “I’ll move you to a safe house and take Dawn into another one across the country.”

  “Absolutely not,” I stated, anger boiling at just the thought. “I can’t just leave, or they’ll know something’s up. You know that as well as anyone else. Plus, she’s too sick to go anywhere.”

  “But you know her,” Kaleb glared at me. I wasn’t going to back down. I had to stay. It didn’t matter that I knew her, or that she was not the same girl I had once known. She was still a part of me—part of this case.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m not backing down on this case. I’ve worked way too much on it for you to just drop me off like trash,” I seethed. “I’ve spent the last year gaining my spot inside this ring, Kaleb! I can’t just let it pass on by without me, now that I’m in this deep.”

  “Fine. But if your emotions get involved, you will be shipped out, got it?” Kaleb didn’t remove his eyes from mine.

  “Yes, Sir,” I said. I hated how he could bring me, a Dom, down into a submissive place.

  Chapter 5

  Dawn

  A week passed where I was in and out of sleep. Every time I woke—mostly in a coughing fit—either Elijah or Joslyn were there, comforting me. I was so used to taking care of myself that I always expected to wake back up in the cell.

  I kept having dreams of what I’d been forced to live through over and over. The times I woke up coughing, the two made sure I could catch my breath before having me drink warm tea and honey.

  By the fifth day, my fever and sore throat were getting worse. The coughing also seemed to grow worse by the hour, and so did my nightmares. Everything began to blur together. I could no longer tell the difference between my dreams and reality.

  On day eight, I woke up by myself, finally being able to breathe without hacking up a lung. The dull sunlight lit the room and the window was open, letting in fresh air. I could faintly hear voices out in the hall.

  I stretched my stiff body out, happy I was no longer achy. I was tired but felt more rested—more human. It had been years since I’d actually felt human. I wasn’t sure how to take it.

  I could feel my hair sticking to my face and neck. I was too scared to get up or move too much, as I wasn’t sure what was expected of me, even though the idea of a shower was at the front of my mind.

  As I brought my hand up to my face to rub my crusted eyes, I noticed I had a needle taped into my vein on the back of my hand. The movement caused it to pull slightly. When did that happen?

  “Sorry about the IV,” Elijah said as he entered the room, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue shirt. He looked tired but seemed to be happy I was awake. “I had my father look you over a couple days ago, since you weren’t getting better. He started an IV full of fluids and antibiotics for pneumonia and strep throat. With how you lived for so long, he was surprised you weren’t worse, but was also afraid of how fast you could go downhill without the proper treatment.

  “Since you’re on the mend, my father can remove the IV, but you’ll still have to take meds until the infection is gone. You can take a shower and get some food afterward.”

  “Okay, Sir,” I said, my voice scratchy from lack of use.

  “Good to see you awake, child,” greeted a man with black hair. His face was open and warm as he looked me over. His light blue eyes shone with trust and compassion. I felt like I’d met this man before.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he took hold of my wrist, checking my heart rate before proceeding to remove the IV. He was gentle as he removed it and put a Band-Aid on the spot. He didn’t touch me more than necessary, for which I was thankful.

  “Better, Sir,” I said, trying to keep my eyes down from his.

  “Good to hear,” the man smiled. He retreated a few steps, giving me more than enough room to be able to get up. I could feel him staring at me. I had to wonder why—why did he feel obligated to even treat me?

  “Go take a shower. I’ll get some clothes for you while you’re in there and set them on the counter. When you’re done, I will do your hair, and then you will eat some food,” Elijah said gently, before he stood and let me get up. His voice wasn’t demanding or stern, but calm and open. I was used to how roughly men usually spoke to me, and it was a nice change—as long it was kept that way, which I doubted.

  I slowly made my way off the bed, trying my best to ignore the worried eyes watching me. I noticed my clothes were different than the ones I had last had on. The shorts were a little too big, but they were cute with white and pink hearts. The tank top fit me perfectly. I had to wonder who’d changed me. I knew my body was covered in scars. Did that mean whoever changed my clothes saw them?

  My bare feet touched the soft cream carpet, as I worked to keep myself upright. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle; I had suffered pain on a daily basis. It took me a little longer to get moving, but at least I could do so without help for the most part. Elijah did follow, silently, obviously to make sure I didn’t fall.

  Once I reached the bathroom, I relieved myself, as my bladder had made itself painfully known. After the water had warmed up, I stepped in the shower and cleaned my body from head to toe. It felt just as great as the last time.

  This was one thing I could certainly get used to.

  Once I finished and felt much more like my old self, I found the clothes Elijah had put on the counter: a simple matching bra and underwear set, along with dark pink yoga pants that had a flower design along the side. There was also a light pink tank top and a long-sleeved shirt to put over it.

  Elijah, once again, sat on the bed like last time. He smiled gently, almost sadly in a way, as I reached the bed. I sat on the edge as well, too worn out to keep my body on alert, letting my shoulders sag.

  He began to brush out my wet hair. It wasn’t as tangled, as it had still been in a braid from before. I found it soothing once again, and would have purred if I had the ability.

  Why was he so nice?

  “All done,” he stated after he had once again braided my hair in a French twist.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I replied.

  “Not a problem,” he muttered. “Now, how ‘bout we go downstairs and eat some food.” He made his way off the bed, and I followed, knowing the statement was more a command than anything else. He entwined his hand gently with mine and led me downstairs.

  The hallway was lined with beautiful pictures of nature. I didn’t stop to look too closely, but would love to if I got the chance. I had no idea what this man had planned for me. He could very well turn around and sell me again, since I was now healthy. Well, healthier than I was when he bought me.

  The carpet, the same cream color as the bedroom, was soft and clean against my feet. In the house I grew up in, the carpet was dirty, no matter how hard my mother tried to clean it. Some of the threads would poke the bottoms of my feet if I l stepped just right. Not to mention, the bare spots would easily cut my soles.

  I followed the man down the wide stairs that led to an open entryway with more pictures, and a sort of western style table near the main doors. A few of the pictures were of nature: a tree in a dry field, mountains, and a sunset. I had never seen such art before.

  “This way,” he stated, rounding the corner towards the right.

  I came into what was a massive kitchen. It looked like it came right out of a show home.

  “Go sit,” he said, as he nodded towards the round oak table that seated four, and let go of my
hand at the same time. The chairs were high backed and fitted with dark red cushions.

  I walked slowly to the table. I didn’t dare walk faster than my body could handle on such weak legs. I knew it’d take a bit of time to become stronger.

  Elijah brought two bowls of steaming bean soup to the table, right as I sat down, along with a big chunk of toast. My stomach growled at the smell. Taking a little sip of the soup, I found that I liked the flavor. It wasn’t too salty like I expected.

  I think I had just found one of my favorite foods ever—as long as this man made it, of course.

  “I have a list for you to look over tomorrow, once you’re more yourself. I don’t expect you to be up to reading it and thinking clearly right now with you still recovering. It will include a list of things I expect from you, along with a list of things I would like you to do, but are up to you if you want to do them,” Elijah said as we both ate. He ate much faster than I did, as I was trying to not make it look like I was starving, even though I was. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent meal like this.

  “I do expect you to be able to communicate with me on any issues or concerns you have. I know most of the things will take time and understanding on my part, but it’s all for you. Everything I do is to help you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied, keeping my eyes down. Why would he want to do things for me? Wasn’t I to do things for him?

  It was a weird concept, but one I thought sounded nice.

  “I also have a list of ways you will be punished if a situation calls for it. I know a little about what you went through. I can guarantee you will be treated with respect in this house and among my family and friends. I do not require any sexual services of any kind from you,” he continued. “Emily, my sister-in-law, will be a wonderful person for you to talk to. She has gone through something similar.”