Charming Savage (Cinder Crew: Mafia Fairytale Retellings)

12. Twelve Ella

Twelve: Ella

Cold seeped through the stone floor, a creeping chill that wrapped around my bare feet and crawled up my spine. Chris had put me in here and left to go get us something to eat. Supposedly.

"Shit's about to get real for you, princess," Annie's voice was preceded by the click of the door.

Izzy stepped in behind her. "Hope you're ready for your make-over."

Annie cracked her knuckles, the sound ricocheting off the walls. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate. "You're nothing but a plaything, Ella. A pretty, broken doll. Did you really think you could change him? No, sweet girl, Chris is and forever will be ours."

My breath hitched, adrenaline surging. I pressed my back against cold stone, wishing I could melt into it, become part of the dungeon's ancient whispers. Fear gnawed at my insides; anticipation was a bitter pill on my tongue.

"Look at her shake," Izzy taunted. "Like a leaf in a fucking storm."

"We should carve her up.” Annie's face loomed over me, grinning. "She’d look pretty. Like a patchwork doll."

Every instinct screamed to bolt, but chains of dread shackled my limbs.

"Please," I whispered, "don't do this." But my plea evaporated in the thick air, a silent prayer unheard by merciless gods.

"Aw, she begs," Izzy laughed.

"Pathetic," Annie spat.

Hold onto the light. My mind raced, flipping through memories of sunlit days, laughter... life before the fall. Before the Cinder Crew snatched it all away.

"Enough chatter," Izzy snapped. "Time to have our fun. Mom said we could do whatever we wanted to you, so long as we don't kill you."

I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of fear coating my tongue. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescents into my palm.

"Let's see if the sunshine girl can scream," Annie hissed, her shadow merging with the darkness that already enveloped my world.

The glint in Annie's eyes was icy as she prowled toward me, the knife in her hand glittering in the dim light. "Sunshine's gonna get eclipsed today," she sneered, the blade dancing between her fingers.

"Maybe we'll carve out a little slice of the sun for ourselves," Izzy chimed in, whip coiled in her grip.

"Please," I whimpered, not to them – they were far beyond showing me mercy – but to some shred of humanity that might still exist within these walls.

"Please?" Annie mocked. "That's no fun. Don't think we didn't watch as Chris cut you. You seemed to like it then. Perhaps we will turn you on too."

"Pathetic, isn't it? Thinking the Prince of Darkness would want anything more than to use you to bust his nut." Izzy said, a twisted smile curving her lips as she unfurled the whip with a crack that split the air.

I shrank back, but there was nowhere to hide. The first lash seared across my skin, a line of fire forcing its pattern into flesh. I bit down on my lip, the coppery taste of blood mingling with my tears.

"Look at her, trying to be so brave," Annie taunted, moving in close, the tip of her knife tracing a mocking caress along my cheekbone. "But we know you're nothing but a scared little girl."

"Scared little girls don't last long here." Izzy's laughter was the soundtrack to my pain as the whip came down again, each strike a punctuation mark in this horror story.

"Fuck!" The word exploded from me, raw and ragged, as much a release as a curse.

"Oh, that's what you said when Chris flogged you. Not quite the same tone, but we will get there," Izzy noted, drawing back for another blow.

"Let's beat it out of her," Annie snarled, raising her knife.

An explosive sound shattered the sadistic symphony – the dungeon door flying open with the force of a hurricane, metal scraping against stone.

"Enough!" Chris’s bellow echoed off the walls, fury incarnate in his towering frame. His eyes, those deep wells of blue, now boiled with a storm of rage.

"Chris—" I started, but the name caught in my throat, tangled in disbelief and terror.

"Get the FUCK away from her," he growled, advancing like judgment personified, muscles rolling beneath inked skin.

Annie faltered, her weapon hand trembling. "Chris, we were just—"

"Shut the fuck up!" His shout reverberated, a primal sound that shook the foundation of the room.

"Chris, please..." It was Izzy now, her sophisticated facade crumbling to dust under his unwavering glare. "We were just playing." She walked up to him, trying to sway her hips as she ran her finger across his chest. Disgusting. Weren't they siblings?

"Touch her again, and I swear to God," he threatened, voice lethal and low, an undertow ready to drag them down to the depths. He grabbed her hand and twisted it until she screamed. "Don't ever think you can just touch me."

Their bravado evaporated, leaving them exposed as the cowards they were. Chris stood sentinel over me, a dark guardian whose presence promised retribution.

I lay on the cold ground, trembling, a storm-battered survivor gazing up at the eye of the tempest, wondering if salvation had indeed come or if I'd simply traded one devil for another.

Izzy's gaze turned cold as she ran towards me. Annie saw her opportunity and took it. Both of them descended on me, a fist connecting to my chest as the tip of a knife slipped into my bicep. I let out a shriek before I heard it. The unhinged roar.

The air stilled as Chris's rage manifested into raw, unbridled violence. His fists were the first to speak – knuckles slamming into Annie's cheek with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating. Her head snapped to the side, a bright bloom of red painting her lips.

"Son of a—" Izzy lunged, her whip forgotten as she clawed for the blade, but Chris was already on her. The force of his body, a freight train of muscle and fury, sent her crashing against the stone wall. The air wooshed from her lungs in a pained gasp.

I pressed my back into the cold floor, my chest heaving, every bruise singing with pain. Chris moved like a beast uncaged – all power, and psychotic fury. His tattoos danced as he delivered another blow to Annie, who crumpled like a rag doll at his feet.

"Chris!" I screamed, or maybe I only thought it, my mind a cyclone of terror and awe.

"Stay down," he snarled at Izzy, pinning her with one massive arm, his other hand drawn back, ready to strike. "Don't you fucking move."

"Chris, no!" The words tore from me, but they were just whispers.

His gaze flickered to mine for an instant, a storm of blue that promised destruction. He hesitated, and Izzy seized the moment, spitting curses as she wriggled beneath him, trying to escape.

"Filthy bitch!" Chris's voice was a thunderclap, his fist descending with finality. Izzy went still. Her face a smashed mess.

My heart thrashed wildly behind my ribcage. Every breath seared through me, air sharp as broken glass. I watched, helpless, as Chris turned back to Annie, looming over her fallen form. His hand curled around the knife she'd dropped, lifting it high.

"Chris, please..." My voice broke.

"Nobody touches what's mine," he growled, the words vibrating with possessive heat. His eyes scorched me, their depths churning with something feral and protective. Bringing the knife down, he twisted, pulling it up as spurts of blood coated his face.

He tossed the knife away, metal clanging against stone. His boots thudded as he approached. His shadow fell over me. And for the first time in a lifetime, I had never been more grateful for the darkness.

"You’re safe," he sighed. His fingers trailed tenderly down my cheek, a stark contrast to the brutality they'd just unleashed. Chris muttered under his breath, a dark god surveying his handiwork. His gaze found mine, wild and untamed, a storm of blue in the dimness. He stepped over their lifeless forms, his boots slicked with their demise.

"What the hell do we do now?” My voice quivered. My heart raced, careening between terror and a treacherous thrill.

"Fuck if I know."

The metallic tang of blood permeated the air, thick and cloying. My lungs heaved with each shuddering breath. I recoiled from the crimson stains that seeped across the cold stone floor, reaching out toward me like the fingers of the damned.

"But..." The word stumbled from my lips, laced with disbelief. "Why?" My gaze clung to his.

A muscle twitched in his jaw, the lines of his face etched with shadows.

"I told you already. You're mine."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frenzied dance of terror and something dangerously close to longing. His hand rose, the movement slow and deliberate, fingers smeared with the evidence of his wrath. A touch, light as a feather yet heavy with intent, traced a line from my jaw to the hollow of my throat.

"Fuck," he cursed, his breath hot against my skin. The heat from his body radiated, enveloping me in a cocoon of raw masculinity. "Needed to be done," he murmured, the rasp in his voice hinting at a darkness that lurked beneath the surface, a beast caged by will alone.

My pulse echoed in my ears, a frantic drumbeat creating rhythm in time with the drip-drip-drip of blood. His presence loomed over me, an unyielding force, an undeniable claim. The room swam, the walls closed in.

"Can't fucking stand anyone else touching you," he growled, the ownership in his tone a visceral thing that wrapped around my heart and squeezed.

Blood pooled at my feet, slick and warm as my gaze fixed on Chris, the man who had become both jailer and savior. He stood up and paced—tall, menacing, a god of wrath wreathed in shadows, his knuckles split and red. He was wrestling with what he'd done... and what it meant for him.

"Couldn't let them... Not to you," he said, voice low, a growl that reverberated through the damp air of the dungeon. "If anyone's gonna hurt you, Ella, it'll be me."

I recoiled but there was nowhere to run. The cold stone wall pressed against my back, its rough surface scraping my skin. My breath hitched.

"Chris... you can't mean that," I whispered, but even as the words left my lips, I knew they were laced with doubt.

He stepped forward, boots thudding softly on the bloody floor. "Mean every fuckin' word, little ember."

"God, what are you?" I found myself asking, not sure if I wanted an answer.

"Your worst nightmare and your darkest dream," he murmured, stepping closer.

My gaze flickered to the motionless forms at his feet, the crimson pooling beneath them painting the dungeon floor in a tapestry of finality. My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists, fighting the urge to reach out to him, to seek reassurance in the madness.

"Chris, what have you done?" The words tumbled from my lips, raw and laced with terror. It hit me like a freight train. "Priscilla... she's going to kill us. Oh my God."

"Saved you," he grunted, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture brutally casual. He continued his pacing as he tried to release the tension in his shoulders.

"Saved me?" My laugh was bitter and sharp. "For what? To be your plaything? To be sold to Gustov? What then? Huh?"

"Fuck no." He stepped over a lifeless arm, coming closer, his shadow falling over me. "To be the queen to my damn kingdom."

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm, the sound deafening in my ears as I watched him approach. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I was a deer caught in the headlights of his predatory gaze.

"Queen?" I choked on the word, disbelief coloring my tone. "This is no kingdom; it's a goddamn slaughterhouse."

"Same difference," he snarled, his face inches from mine. The scent of blood wrapped around me like a vice. "You wanted a way out, Ella? This is it. With me, or in a body bag."

"Is this supposed to be mercy?"

"Mercy?" He laughed, low and menacing, his breath hot on my skin. "No, little ember, this is ownership. You belong to me. You have since the minute I saw the way your eyes rolled back in your head at the slightest touch. Every fucking inch of you is mine."

A shiver ran down my spine at his coarse words, my body betraying me with its response to his nearness.

My mind reeled, grappling with the juxtaposition of this brutal man and his unexpected gesture of protection. Fear mingled with a reckless thrill.

His lips curled into a semblance of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Now you get your wish."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your fucking savior."