Charming Savage (Cinder Crew: Mafia Fairytale Retellings)

6. Six Ella

Six: Ella

The stench of stale sweat and feces wafted around the cell, infused intothe cramped space where I huddled close to Belle. She was warmth in this godforsaken icebox.

"Can't stay here," she whispered, "gotta find a way out."

"How?" I rasped. "They've got eyes everywhere, and Chris..." His name was a curse, a whisper of darkness that made my skin crawl and heart race for reasons I couldn't fathom.

Her fingers entwined with mine. "We're smarter than them. We'll watch, wait... strike when they least expect it."

I squeezed back, trying to absorb some of her strength. But my fears compounded. "What if we're stuck here forever?" The words tumbled out, raw and ragged. "What about life outside these walls, dreams, family..."

"Shh." Her thumb brushed my knuckle, a balm to the panic rising like bile. "Don't let them take what's yours, Ella. Hold on to it, fight for it."

Fight. The word echoed in my head, bouncing off the corners of my skull. Could I? Would I? It felt like the longer I stayed here, the less I had the will to try get out. How long had it been now? Days? A week? A month?

Our moment shattered as the door's lock clicked. Chris. Towering and gorgeous as sin, he filled the doorway, his entrance snuffing out the dim light from the hall. His bandana was securely tied around his face once again. Is it awful that I wanted to see the lips hidden beneath? My God, what was wrong with me? This man kidnapped us, well, me at least.

The door creaked open, a sliver of Priscilla’s silhouette slicing through the dimness. "Time to split up, lovelies," her voice was clipped. “Market day is coming, and we need you both looking your best. You, Ella, have a very special buyer and you need to undergo the proper training. Such an exciting day, isn't it girls?”

Belle's hand squeezed mine, squashing my fingers together. Our eyes met. I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of reality stinging my tongue. "You can’t sell us," I spat, the words acid against my lips.

Priscilla's laugh, brittle as glass, shattered the air. "Watch me." She glided closer. "Ella, to your new quarters. Chris will escort you."

"Time to move," he growled, the command brooking no argument. Belle moved to stand, and he chuckled. "Not you. Just her. Someone else is coming for you, princess."

My heart hiccupped, then pounded, a frantic beat against my ribs as I stood, legs quivering. Belle's hand slipped away, and suddenly the cold was all-consuming, seeping into my bones.

"Walk," Chris ordered, his voice a guttural rumble.

Each step was a battle, feet heavy laden, my mind reeled with the need to run, to flee. But there was nowhere to go, no escape. Just cement walls and a guardian as sinister as the devil himself.

"Move it, little ember."

My feet refused to obey, suddenly rooted to the spot. He advanced, boots thumping on the concrete floor. Each step echoed in my skull.

"Didn’t hear me?" His hand clamped around my arm.

"Let go!" I jerked away, but I might as well have been a ragdoll for all the good it did. His fingers didn’t so much as tremble.

"Easy there," he drawled, hauling me to the door. "Wouldn't want to bruise the goods."

Goods. That's all I was to them. A product to be bartered, broken, sold. Rage bubbled up, hot and fierce, but I choked it down. I had to be smart. Had to survive.

Through dirty, damp halls we went, my heart hammering a frenetic beat. With each step, Chris’s scent filled my senses, stirring confusion and unwanted attraction.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"Fuck you," I hissed under my breath.

He pushed open another door, throwing me into the barren room beyond.

"Get comfortable," Chris said, the mockery in his tone scraping across my nerves.

"Go to hell," I shot back, the bravado ringing hollow in my ears.

The room swallowed me whole, devoid of warmth or life. A single bulb flickered overhead, its hum the only noise. The bed was a slab, uninviting and hard, with a thin blanket. Guess it's not much worse than what I came from. Certainly a step up from the cell. Small miracles.

"Like your accommodations?" he sneered, but his eyes, those deep blue abysses, flickered with something. Not quite soft, but... different.

"About as much as I like you."

"Good girl, got spirit." He stepped back, the distance cold, immediate.

"Monster."

"Your monster," he corrected, a twisted vow.

"Fuck you," I said, even as my body screamed other, darker wants. Turning from him, my fists clenched and unclenched.

"Maybe one day, Ella."

I turned back to him, heart in my throat, but the door slammed shut, his silhouette a final image etched into my memory before the click of the lock sealed my fate.

Tears pricked at my eyes.

"Fuck you, Chris," I muttered into the silence. "I'm not yours to break."

I curled on the bed, every muscle screaming in protest. Thoughts of Belle, of escape, swam through the haze of exhaustion. We weren't done yet; we couldn't be.

As sleep dragged me under, I clung to the visions of a world beyond these walls, a place where the sun still shone bright, and my spirit could soar free. It was a dream, distant and hazy, but it was mine—and no bastard could take that from me.

I paced, three steps across, five steps down. My mind raced, panicked and plotting. How had this become my reality? Kidnapped. Sold.

"Should've asked for a better view."

With each turn, I felt him, Chris—the inked beast who'd dragged me here. His touch – rough, sparked unwanted fire and haunted my skin.

Promise or curse? I recalled his parting words. The thought sent a fresh wave of shivers cascading down my spine—not all of them from fear.

Leaning against the cool wall, I allowed myself a moment, just a fraction of time, to close my eyes. To imagine sunlight, warmth, a world away from this bleak cell. But wishes were for fools, and I was nobody's fool.

My breath was a white puff in the chilled air. A cloud of dust rose as my body dropped onto the bed; a ghost freed from its resting place. It settled on my lashes as I sneezed.

Princess of the damned. I laughed, the sound hysterical, tearing at my throat. And Chris, prince of the fucking underworld.

The silence wrapped around me. Alone with my thoughts, I swallowed my panic. I had no option except to remain calm and think of how to get out of this mess. Instead, I lay there in the dim, the cold seeping into my bones, doubt crept in. How much darkness could I endure before my light flickered out?

Fuck this. I kicked at the metal bed rail, pain shooting up my leg, better than feeling nothing. Better than succumbing to the numbness that threatened to drown me.

"Hey!" I shouted, knowing no one would answer. "You hear me? I'm not broken yet!"

Silence was the only reply, a mocking retort to my defiance. My eyes burned and my mouth was dry. A lump formed in my throat, mocking my attempts at bravado. I blinked rapidly, willing the weakness away.

"Stop it," I whispered to myself. "Crying won't change shit."

But the dam broke, tears trailing unchecked down my cheeks.

Get it together. I smeared the wetness from my face with the back of my hand, smudging dirt along my skin.

I forced myself to stand, legs shaky but determined. The image of Chris's dark blue eyes haunted me. I’ll carve my way out of this hell, one way or another. But even as I scolded myself, I couldn't shake the allure of his contradictions—the hard lines of his inked body that promised danger, and the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something burning hot.

The walls seemed to close in, as panic of another kind rose in my chest. I pressed my face into the pillow, inhaling the musty scent, anything to distract from the chaos of my heart.

A pang of guilt twisted in my chest as Belle's face surfaced in my mind. Sweet Belle, who'd been my rock through this nightmare.

"Belle," I whispered, the sound disappearing into the void. "How are you holding up?"

Visions of her, alone in another cold cell, gnawed at me. We were each other's lifelines, and now we had no one.

A fist pounded against the door, a thunderous boom that echoed deep in my bones. "Sleep, princess," Chris's voice snarled through the steel. "Big day tomorrow."

"Fuck your big day," I shot back, my words a silent scream in my head. No way I'd give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice crack.

But as hard as I tried to fight it, sleep claimed me.