9. Nine Chris
Nine: Chris
Unlocking the door, I opened it, plate in hand. Ella's room, her fucking prison. I promised her food, and I delivered. She sat curled on the bed, long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as her eyes flickered to mine. Hunger gnawed at me – not for food, but a more primal kind.
"Got you dinner," I grunted, placing the plate between us. She moved to the small table and sat across from where I stood. A pathetic attempt at normalcy. I towered over her, arms crossed, tattoos itching under my skin like they wanted to break free and wrap around her. To smother her in my darkness and watch her light rip me apart.
Ella eyed the meal, then me, her brown eyes big, too fuckin' innocent. She picked up the fork and took a bite. So trusting. What if I'd poisoned it? Gunna have to teach this girl some street smarts. Her next question floored me. "What happened to the previous girl you guys had? The one before me?"
"Shit happens." My answer hung between us. "Eat." Her fork scraped against the ceramic, a harsh sound in the quiet.
"Will the buyer... what do they want with me?" She fiddled with her hair as she looked anywhere but at me.
"Depends." I shrugged. A lie. I knew exactly what Gustov would to do her, and it was fucking sick. "Some are collectors, others..." I trailed off. Couldn't let her know how deep the darkness went. Couldn't admit I was part of it. For the first time in my life, I felt shame.
She pushed, tenacious despite the fear I saw flicker in her gaze. "And if I'm not what they want?"
"Then you'll be found in a ditch." The words tasted like ash.
"Chris," she whispered.
"Fuck, little ember, don't. You're cracking a dam, and it will flood the spark inside you." I paced away, a caged animal in her too-small room. Her hope was a fucking knife, threatening to tear it down. I'd keep her from the hands that would ruin her - somehow.
The room stank of desperation, a scent pungent enough to taste. She was trying to draw more of the softness out of me. There's no way she couldn't know how she affected me.
"Talk to me about the others... like Belle," she prodded.
"Can't say." A gruff dismissal. "Not relevant."
"Isn't it?" She pushed back her hair, strands slipping through her fingers. "What happened to her?"
"None of your business." My hands clenched, knuckles popping white, itching for something to break.
"Please." Christ, that please clawed at me, dug its way under my skin where I didn't want it. "I need to know..."
"Drop it!" The roar tore from my throat, raw and edged. A warning bell clanged in my head, telling me to shut this down before the truth spilled out.
Her mouth snapped shut, lips pressed into a thin line, but those brown eyes accused me, branded me a traitor. Fuck, I wanted to tell her everything and nothing all at once. Wanted to shield her from the storm coming her way, but storms... well, they don't give a shit about you.
"Trust me," I said, the irony bitter as bile. "You're better off not knowing."
"Am I?" Doubt etched every word, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Damn right. Focus on staying alive, Ella. That's all you gotta do."
She bit down on her lip, drawing blood. Her pain was loud in the silence, and I hated myself for wanting to answer it.
"Fuckin' eat," I growled, my voice a blade drawn across the tension. "I don't have all day."
"Fine," she murmured, picking at the bread.
"Stop looking at me like that," I snapped, the monster in me clawing closer to the surface. Her gaze flickered up, and goddamn if it didn't make me want to tear down the walls I’d help build.
"Like what?" Her voice was a whisper, a challenge wrapped in vulnerability.
"Like I'm your fuckin' savior." The words came out as a snarl, self-loathing fueling the fire. "I'm not."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she shot back.
"Good." I leaned back, the chair creaking under my weight, my gaze hard. She flinched but held steady, refusing to break eye contact. It was a game of dominance, and I'd be damned if I let her win. She was mine to protect. Mine to destroy. Mine to rebuild.
The door slammed open. "Chris," Priscilla hissed, her tone slicing through the stale air. "What the fuck is this? A nice little date. How cute. Don’t play with the merchandise.”
"She needs to eat," I bit out, standing up to meet her glare for glare.
"Doesn't look like you've fucked her yet." She prowled into the room, looking at Ella with disgust. "You going soft on me, Charming?"
"Never." My jaw clenched; every muscle tensed for a fight. "Just giving her some time to adjust."
"Adjust?" She laughed. "She doesn't need time, she needs training. And you were supposed to start yesterday."
Ella paled, her fork slipping from numb fingers. Shit, she didn’t need to hear this. I stepped forward, blocking Priscilla's view of her.
"Got it under control, Pris." I spat her name like it was venom. "Don't need your fucking input on how I handle things."
"See that you do." Her eyes narrowed, a silent threat lingering in their depths. "Or I'll find someone who can."
"Over my dead body." I squared my shoulders, ready to bear the brunt of her wrath. "She’s under my protection."
"Protection? She's a product. She doesn't need your protection. Train her so she can go to Gustov. Don't forget, I won't hesitate to wheel you out in a body bag if you are no longer fit for your duties."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good." She turned on her heel. "Don't disappoint me, Chris."
"Never do," I called after her retreating form, though the promise felt hollow in my chest. Silence crashed down around us once the door shut, leaving me alone with Ella once again.
"What—" she started, tears in her eyes, but I cut her off with a look.
"Shut it, Ella." I strode over, my hand lifting her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I won't hurt you. Not now, not ever."
"Promises, promises," she whispered, her breath a caress against my thumb.
"Believe it." The intensity in my voice surprised even me. "Because no one fucks with what's mine."
"Yours..." Her lips quirked. "So, you meant that then?"
"Damn right." I dropped my hand, the space between us charged with unspoken words and unresolved desires. "Eat your food, Ella."
"Sure thing... sir." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, but she complied, eating slowly.
I watched her, the conflict within me a raging inferno. Protect her or possess her? The line blurred, and I wasn't sure which side I'd fall on when it came time to choose.
"Fuck," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair.
My chest was a fucking battleground, heart hammering like it wanted to break through. Every once in a while, I'd hear a sniffle. Guess reality finally sunk in. I was going to have to train her. One way or another, she was going to hurt. Every glance at Ella, with her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, was a punch to the gut.
"Tomorrow," I muttered, more to myself than to her, "shit's gonna get real."
Ella pulled her knees closer, wrapping her arms around them. It was a useless gesture; we both knew it. Nothing could protect her. Her defiance from earlier, that fire in her eyes—it had dimmed but hadn't died. Yet.
"Training," she whispered, voice cracking like thin ice. "What does that... entail?"
"Survival," I snapped, my words clipped as bullets. "Do what you're told, when you're told, how you're told. Simple." It tasted bitter on my tongue, but fuck if I'd sugarcoat the hell waiting beyond these walls. Yesterday was to gain her trust. Tomorrow will be to destroy it.
She flinched, and I cursed under my breath. Hated this shit. Hated making her a part of it. But Priscilla had her claws in deep, and neither of us was escaping anytime soon.
"Can't promise it'll be gentle," I said, locking eyes with her. "But I'll be the bastard holding the leash. No one else."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
"Take it how you want," I growled, fists clenching at my sides. "I'm the best chance you've got."
Silence stretched between us, thick as the tension that knotted my muscles. I wanted to reach out, touch her, reassure her somehow—but what good were the hands of a monster?
"Sleep," I commanded, ignoring the ache in my throat. "You'll need your strength."
"Like you care," she shot back, but her voice was losing its edge, weariness seeping in.
"Care more than you know, little ember," I murmured, but didn't elaborate. Letting her in anymore wasn't an option. Couldn't afford that kind of vulnerability.
I turned my back, staring at the door. Tomorrow loomed over us, the storm I’d tried to delay. And I was the motherfucker playing both sides of the game.
"Hey..."
Her voice cracked the silence, fragile as glass. I didn't respond, couldn't trust myself to. Just grunted some semblance of acknowledgment.
"Thank you," she said, so damn quietly I almost missed it.
"Save it," I replied, tone harsher than intended. "What the hell are you thanking me for? You'll be begging me for mercy tomorrow."
The truth was a twisted knife—I'd drag her through hell, teach her every fucked-up thing they expected of her. But I'd do it to keep her alive. To keep her mine.
"Get some rest," I ordered without turning around. "Shitstorm's coming at first light."
Leaving her there, in that tiny sanctuary of hers, felt like ripping off a limb. But it was for the best. She needed to sleep, and I needed to plan. Because tomorrow, the training would begin, and I'd be the one to test her limits, push her boundaries. Further than normal people enjoy. But Gustov wasn't a normal person. He was a demon wrapped in scars.
"Fuck," I hissed once I was out of sight. This game, these moves we were making—playing protector and captor—it was fucked. I could only let her get so close before I had to pull away. Every crack of the walls that held the flood in check, was going to cost me heavily. The more entrenched I became, the bigger the chance I fucked up and cost her her life. And mine.
Anticipation clawed at me, a beast hungry for what was to come. There was no backing down now. No mercy left to give. Only the raw, unyielding force of what had to be done.
Tomorrow would bring pain and darkness. But in the midst of it all, there was something undeniable—some twisted desire that refused to be ignored.
And the part of me that was still alive... craved it.