Chapter 82 Untitled Chapter

Chapter 82 Untitled Chapter
GIANNA

I have read somewhere that a picture tells a thousand stories. Right now the only story this collage of images playing before my eyes was telling is not a pretty one.

There's no one person that would see these pictures right now and would believe that Dane and Jax were innocent.

Everything suddenly made sense, someone, probably the same person who had signed me up with NYME had taken the liberty to send my family a very discriminatory evidence.

I leaned against Tessa's car, when my legs threatened to fall under me.

In the first picture Dane was walking out of club INFERNO with me slung over his shoulders, completely dead to the world.

Though you couldn't see his face in its entirety considering he still had his mask on, I knew it was him, he still had his suit on.

In the second pic he was outside in the underground parking lot, his body bent as he deposited me into the backseat of a vehicle. With Jax holding the car door open, his face clear as day in the picture, his mask taken off.

The third picture was of both of them sitting in the car, Jax in the driver's seat, Dane on his right, in the passenger seat without his mask.

What got to me was how all these first pictures were taken before I woke up and found myself in the cabin, but the others were taken from inside the cabin. Which confuses me and makes me question everything.

From what I know there were only three people in that cabin. Jax, Dane and I, so who is the fourth person that took those pictures?

That suspicious part of me wondered if it was Dane and Jax who took it, but I was quick to discard that thought.

There's no way they would take and send something so clearly damning that would obviously implicate them for kidnapping me to my family.

That would be stupid, and they are not stupid. The other pictures were all taken when I was at my most vulnerable after a session.

It's mortifying to know my family has seen me this way. This assures me that it couldn't be them, they'll never humiliate me this way, that I believe with all my heart.

The more I scrolled down through the dozen or so pictures, the worse they got. They are so bad that I would have probably condemned whoever had done that to the poor woman in the picture—if I wasn't the said woman and didn't enjoy every moment that had led to what my family are now staring at as the evidence of the abuse I had gone through.

Whoever had taken the picture did a very good job of making me look like I had been brutally abused. He'd taken it in such a way that was equally fascinating as well as horrifying.

Nothing I say would convince them that the bruises weren't as bad as they seem or that I enjoyed this kind of thing. That I liked pain and got off on it. That what they saw wasn't as horrible as it was obviously made to be.

Still watching with a morbid kind of fascination, my eyes wide on the screen taking in how clear the pictures were.

Emphasizing every tiny bruise, every hickey and every fingerprint on my naked skin, they'd even taken a close shot of my hands in and out of handcuffs. Showing the twin circles of bruises I had gotten, my family didn't know it was self-inflicted, that I got that while I was writhing in ecstasy pulling and yanking in pleasure.

They'd made it so that all my naughty bits were blurred to protect or give an illusion of modesty, though you could make out some more bruises that faded under the blur, which was around my supposed blurred nipples.

Which weren't all that blurred to be honest, anyone with eyes could clearly tell it was a nipple there even with the blur. I parted my mouth to speak but couldn't for the first few tries.

Too shaken and mortified, that speech abandoned me, not until I cleared my throat and tried for the fourth or was it fifth time.

“What…what the hell is this?” I whispered in a hoarse voice. “How did you get it? Who sent it to you?”

“We don't know, yet. It was sent through our emails. We all received it this morning,” Chloe said with a grimace.

“Everyone in our family saw this?” I was aghast at the thought of my teenage cousins seeing me like this.

“Only the adults and of course Tessa,” Chloe assured gently as though to soften the impact of her words. Despite the assurance my teenage cousins haven't seen this.

I still paled, feeling sick to my stomach, what kind of a deranged sicko does this kind of thing?

“Why were the police here?” I asked, buying myself a few minutes to gather my composure.

“I filed a report to the police here when Tessa came back here the next day and you didn't. I knew you weren't the type to go missing without telling anyone, so when I…we tried your phone and it didn't go through. We went to file for a missing person report, the cops insisted we wait for at least 48 hours considering you're an adult, but told us if you weren't back after 48 hours they will begin a search for you,” Grams replied.

“When you didn't return they started the investigation. They told us that you might have been kidnapped and that the kidnappers might call to demand a ransom.” Grams pause, fighting back tears, her eyes misty.

“We've been working together with the police to find you but to no avail. We were leaving New York for Chicago tomorrow morning when this evidence came through this morning.

Mom asked that I call the police over to show them this new evidence in the hopes that it might help in the investigation and maybe even help locate where they are keeping you,” aunt's Layla voice cracked as she tried to fill me in with everything that has been going on.

Her beautiful face grim with anger, her eyes and nose red.
“We were all in the lobby with the cops talking about the pictures when Tessa called you and to our surprise it went through. It was honestly a shock because we've all been trying your phone for days, calling, sending voice messages and texts but it never went through. So when your phone rang we were so happy but equally scared…we thought the worst…”

“They all came through, hundreds of them.” My aunt sniffed, wiping her eyes with tissues that were already drenched.

“What?” she asked.

“The texts and messages, I doubt even moderators get that much messages in a week,” I said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

She didn't smile back but she hugged me again, so tight I couldn't breath.