Chapter 10: Stolen Girl

- Wendy

I walked alongside Cedric across the art campus, my mind strangely at ease despite the chaos unfolding around us. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the quad, making the scattered backpacks and abandoned art supplies look like bizarre sculptures against the manicured lawns. My curator's eye couldn't help but note the accidental installation art quality of it all. A commentary on sudden societal collapse, perhaps?

"Keep close," Cedric murmured, his weathered face creased with worry as his eyes darted from building to building. His protective stance both touched and amused me—I'd never seen him so vigilant, so… commanding. It suited him, though I could tell he was deeply uncomfortable with our new dynamic.

"I'm right here," I assured him, surprised by the warmth in my own voice. A part of me, the analytical part, observed this new tone with fascination. I sounded like myself, yet not. More devoted, somehow. More attuned to his needs.

He was holding his phone like a lifeline, periodically checking for new texts. We'd been trying to reach Olivia for the past hour. At first our attempt to dial her number had been met with a busy signal. Now, it went straight to voicemail, a sign that either her phone was dead or she'd turned it off.

The campus was in disarray, with fewer women visible with each passing minute. Those still unclaimed were darting between buildings or hiding behind sculptures. I spotted one girl crouched behind the abstract metal monstrosity the seniors had installed last fall, a poor choice, as its negative space offered little concealment. Most striking, though, were the groups of men, students and professors alike, some strutting proudly with multiple women in tow, others looking shell-shocked at their sudden power, a few appearing guilty yet still guiding their now "collections" like shepherds. More were alone, either roaming the campus in search of unclaimed women the more fortunate had missed or simply trying to navigate this bizarre new landscape.

"Professor Hargrove has six," I observed, nodding toward the portly literature professor who'd always been overly familiar at faculty mixtures. He was surrounded by graduate students, all hanging on his every word with unnatural attentiveness. "Seems he finally got the audience he always wanted."

Cedric didn't laugh. His jaw tightened as he guided me around a discarded easel.

We were passing the digital arts building when a thin young man with thick glasses and an ill-fitting Star Wars t-shirt stepped into our path. Two young women flanked him: one with a nose ring and vibrant blue hair, the other a petite blonde with vacant eyes. His sudden confidence was clearly newfound, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist with surprising strength.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I claim you!"

Cedric moved with unexpected speed, shoving me behind him and facing the young man with such ferocity that the boy stumbled backward.

"I'm taken," I said quickly, stepping slightly to Cedric's side. I held up my hand, touching Cedric's arm in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive. "Already claimed."

The young man's eyes darted between us, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Sorry, man. Wasn't sure." He backed away, his claimed women following without question.

As they retreated, I scanned our surroundings with new awareness. "We stand out," I said quietly. "Most men out here have multiple women now. You only have me, and we're… well, we look like a couple rather than…" I trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Rather than master and ****?" Cedric supplied bitterly.

I winced at his tone. "I was going to say 'rather than a man with his claimed woman.' People might think you're just protecting me, that I'm still… available."

My eyes caught on a young woman huddled in the shadow of a doorway, her eyes wide with fear as a group of laughing fraternity boys passed by. "It might be safer if you claimed another woman," I suggested casually. "Just to make it clear you're one of them."

Cedric stopped walking so abruptly I nearly collided with him. His expression was one of pure shock, then disgust. "Jesus Christ, Wendy. Listen to yourself!"

His displeasure hit me like a physical blow. I immediately regretted my words, feeling a confusing mixture of shame and frustration. "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I just want you to be safe, do what you want."

But did he know what he wanted? A small, curious part of my mind wondered if his moral stance would hold in this new reality. If he might regret not seizing opportunities while they existed. If his attraction to me, which I'd always sensed but he'd never acted upon out of respect for Gabriel and I, might finally find expression now that the old rules no longer applied. Now that I was his.

I moved closer to him as we resumed walking, letting my arm brush against his. The contact sent a small thrill through me. Not entirely sexual, but something more complex. A desire to please, to be valued, to be the focus of his attention. I studied his profile, noting the flush rising from his collar. Did it indicate arousal or discomfort? Did he, somewhere deep down, want me more than he wanted to protect me or respect my marriage?

"The architecture building is just past that fountain," I said, my voice softer than necessary. "Then we'll be close to Olivia's dorm."

"I know," he snapped, clearly irritated. "I've visited her before."

Cedric's stride lengthened, putting a few inches between us. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. "Have you heard from Gabriel?"

The question startled me. Gabriel. My husband. I realized with a jolt that I hadn't thought about him since sending that hurried text, what, thirty minutes ago? Forty? He'd told me to let him know we were safe right after he'd claimed me, and I had, but then… nothing. No worry. No longing. Just compliance with his request.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, checking the screen. "Yes, actually. He responded. He wants us to come to Echelon right away."

Cedric nodded, his expression grim. "We will. But first, we need to find Olivia." His voice softened when he mentioned his daughter, his entire focus shifting. I understood completely. finding her was the priority. I'd do anything to help him achieve that goal. Anything he wanted.

I noticed his discomfort at having me with him, the way his eyes occasionally darted to me with uncertainty, but his daughter came first. That made perfect sense to me.

As we approached the dormitory complex, a raucous noise drew our attention. A group of about twenty women were clustered around two men near the entrance, one wearing a backward baseball cap and a letterman jacket, the other sporting a patchy beard and a tank top that showcased mediocre tribal tattoos. Both were high-fiving and shotgunning beers while their claimed women cheered them on with enthusiasm.

"Jesus," I murmured, unable to keep the disdain from my voice. "Those poor girls, claimed by such absolute creeps."

Cedric's shoulders tensed. "You do realize you're in the same situation, right?" he muttered, not meeting my eyes.

"That's completely different," I protested, genuinely confused by the comparison. "You're a good man, Cedric. You claimed me to protect me. I'm…" I searched for the right words, "I'm glad it was you."

Cedric groaned, running a hand over his face. "Just… don't. Please." He quickened his pace toward the dormitory entrance, leaving me momentarily behind.

I hurried to catch up, a knot forming in my stomach. I'd displeased him again. Said the wrong thing. Failed to understand what he wanted from me. The feeling was surprisingly painful, like I'd failed at something fundamentally important. I needed to do better, to figure out what would make him happy.

We navigated through the dormitory's winding corridors, Cedric moving with the certainty of a father familiar with his daughter's territory. The building had that distinctive institutional smell: a mixture of industrial cleaner, microwaved ramen, and the faint mustiness of too many young adults living in close quarters. Under normal circumstances, I would have found it charming, a reminder of my own college days. Now, it felt ominous.

As we rounded a corner, we nearly collided with two young men huddled in intense conversation. They fell silent at our approach, their expressions haunted.

"—couldn't stop them. They just took her, man. Right in front of us," one was saying, his voice breaking.

"We tried, but there were three of them," the other responded, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. "What could we do?"

They glanced at us warily, then relaxed slightly at the sight of Cedric, a middle-aged man with just one woman, not the predatory groups they'd been encountering. As they passed, I caught Cedric's expression softening momentarily. For the first time since this nightmare began, he looked almost hopeful faced with evidence that not every man had embraced this new paradigm, that some had tried to protect rather than claim.

"At least some people tried to do the right thing," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

We reached Olivia's door, decorated with a small whiteboard covered in colorful doodles and inside jokes, and Cedric knocked firmly. "Olivia? It's Dad."

The door swung inward at his touch, already unlocked. My stomach tightened at the sight of the empty room. Olivia's space was typically a creative chaos: art supplies, books, and vintage clothing creating a vibrant tapestry of her personality. Now, that chaos was disrupted. A chair lay overturned. A mug had shattered on the floor, coffee staining the worn carpet. Her backpack was still there, but her phone charger had been yanked from the wall.

"Olivia?" Cedric called again, his voice rising with panic as he moved through the small space, checking the tiny bathroom, looking under the bed as if his adult daughter might be hiding there. "OLIVIA!"

I scanned the room, noting the subtle signs of struggle. Not violent, perhaps, but hasty. The door hadn't been ****. Had she opened it willingly? Had someone she knew come for her?

"Her jacket's gone," I said, pointing to the empty hook by the door.

Before Cedric could respond, a rhythmic thumping began to penetrate the wall, accompanied by increasingly vocal sounds of pleasure. Two distinct female voices moaned in unison, punctuated by a man's deeper grunts.

"Yeah, that's it," the male voice growled. "Show me how much you fucking love belonging to me. Both of you. My perfect little sluts."

The women's responses were enthusiastic, their pleasure seemingly genuine despite the crude commands. I felt a strange twinge of understanding. Their devotion to pleasing him, their complete focus on his desires. It was familiar now.

Cedric's face flushed crimson. Without hesitation, he strode to the adjoining door and slammed his shoulder against it. The cheap dormitory lock gave way immediately, the door banging open to reveal a scene of carnal indulgence.

A young man, perhaps twenty-two, with tousled brown hair and the lean physique of a runner, was on his bed with two naked women. One straddled him, her body moving in rhythm with his thrusts, while the other pressed herself against his back, her generous breasts flattened against his shoulder blades as she kissed his neck, one hand wrapped possessively around his throat. The young man's head snapped up, his expression morphing from ecstasy to shock to embarrassment in rapid succession.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle!" Cedric bellowed.

Kyle recognized Cedric immediately. Olivia's father, clearly a familiar figure. The woman on top of him scrambled off, and he stood awkwardly, making no attempt to cover himself, his erection bobbing obscenely.

"Mr. Appleton!" he stammered. "I… what are you—"

"Where's Olivia?" Cedric demanded, his voice tight with restrained fury. His eyes darted around the room, and I could see the profound relief wash over him when he confirmed his daughter wasn't part of this tableau.

The two women, one a redhead with a smattering of freckles across her shoulders, the other a brunette with an athletic build, moved to position themselves protectively in front of Kyle. Their nakedness seemed irrelevant to them; their only concern was shielding their man from the perceived threat. I understood completely. If someone had burst in threatening Cedric, I would have done exactly the same, regardless of my state of undress or dignity.

"Don't you talk to him like that," the redhead said, chin raised defiantly despite her **** state.

Cedric's jaw tightened. "I don't give a damn about your little orgy here," he said, though his disapproving glance belied his words. "Fuck whoever you want, however you want. I couldn't care less. But if you don't tell me where my daughter is right now, I swear to God I will tear this room apart with you in it."

The women pressed closer to Kyle, their bodies forming a barrier between him and Cedric's rage. The brunette's hands balled into fists, ready to defend her master despite the obvious physical mismatch. Again, I felt that strange resonance. Their devotion made perfect sense to me now.

"I… I saw her," Kyle said, his voice cracking. He reached for a pair of boxers and pulled them on hastily. "About twenty minutes ago. I was coming back from, uh, finding Tasha and Jen here." He gestured to the women, who beamed at him despite the tense situation. "I was heading up the stairs when I saw this older guy—like, maybe your age, but not as, uh, built—with Olivia and some other girls."

"What do you mean 'with' her?" Cedric's voice was dangerously quiet.

Kyle swallowed hard. "He'd claimed them. Olivia and like, four or five other girls. Art students, I think. I recognized a couple from her classes."

I watched the blood drain from Cedric's face.

"He claimed my daughter?" The words seemed to physically pain him.

Kyle nodded miserably. "I'm sorry, Mr. Appleton. It happened so fast. He was leading them all out, saying something about his car and how they'd have to squeeze in to fit. Olivia looked… I don't know, calm? Like everyone does after they're claimed." He glanced at his own women with a mixture of pride and discomfort. "I swear that's all I know. I've never seen the guy before. Older dude, like in his forties, dark hair, glasses. Not from campus."

Cedric stood frozen, his worst fears confirmed. I placed a hand on his arm, feeling the tremor of rage and fear running through his muscles.

"We'll find her," I said with absolute certainty. "We'll go to Echelon like Gabriel said. They'll help us."

Cedric nodded mechanically, his eyes unfocused. "If he hurts her—"

"We'll find her," I repeated, more firmly this time. I turned to Kyle, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed, his claimed women pressed against him protectively. "If you see her again, or hear anything, call Cedric immediately."

Kyle nodded vigorously. "Of course. I'm really sorry, Mr. Appleton. Olivia's cool. She doesn't deserve this shit." Right... 'this shit.' The same 'shit' that's made him King Stud in this dorm room. I felt my lip curl in a snarl.

As we left the room, I heard one of the women murmuring comforting words to Kyle, assuring him he'd done nothing wrong, that he was perfect, that they'd make him feel better. The door closed behind us, and we stood in the silent hallway, the implications of what we'd learned settling over us like a shroud.

"Let's get back to the truck," Cedric said finally, his voice hollow. "We need to get to Echelon."

I followed him without question, my heart aching for his pain while my mind remained strangely, disturbingly clear about my purpose: to support Cedric in whatever he needed, to help him find his daughter, to make him proud of claiming me, despite the fact he didn't want to claim me in the first place. The contradiction didn't trouble me as much as it should have. This was my reality now, and I would excel within its parameters.

Alright! This was chapter 10 out of 67. I'll post one or more chapters daily. If you wish to support my work, or want exclusive access to the rest of the story, feel free to purchase it on Kindle or Smashwords, and do not hesitate to check out the rest of my published work there.

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