21. Jacklyn
21
JACKLYN
I wake in a cold, sterile room, my head pounding, my vision blurry. My wrists are bound by ropes, my hands numb from the tight sting against my skin. The room smells of antiseptic and old leather, and I can hear the faint hum of machinery in the background.
It takes a while, but my eyes start to focus and a shadow starts to take shape.
I’m not alone.
Daniel Russo steps into my line of sight, his eyes cold, calculating. He shoots me a cocky smirk.
“So, Jacklyn... seems like you’ve found yourself in a bit of a pickle again.”
I want to spit at him, want to tell him exactly what I think of his betrayal, but the words get stuck in my throat. The image of Marco laying in a pool of his own blood is all I see, and it causes me to panic as fury surges through me. My heart is pounding too loudly in my ears, my thoughts racing in a thousand directions at once as I close my eyes and wish to be anywhere else but here.
Anywhere else. On any other given day. Far from this maddening crowd of thugs. If only I could undo the past few hours and turn back the hands of time. If only I could bring Marco back. One thing is clear as I sit facing my arch nemesis; the city is burning, even in the presence of Seattle. Which means we’re all in more trouble than we bargained for.
“What are you doing, Daniel? Where am I?”
My hands and feet are tied to a chair, which tells me there’s at least some level of fear when it comes to me. But I may just be delusional – maybe it’s more caution so I don’t run away.
Daniel struts around the room like he owns it. Which he may – I don’t know. But he’s a cocky bastard, and if I get the chance, I will drive a stake through his heart and bury him six feet under. Gladly. I may even record the whole thing so I can get high on the feeling every time I play back the scene. That’s how much I hate this man.
“Not such a big shot now, are you Jacklyn?”
He bends until we’re level, face to face, his calculating eyes piercing through me. With a jolt, I realize he’s actually waiting for an answer to his question.
“No,” I answer. “You’re the big shot now…especially when you have to tie me up to control me.”
And that does it. I’ve pushed the right button. His jaw ticks back and forth before he straightens, standing to his full height.
“I heard Dante Accardi is in town,” he says, as he paces around me.
“Oh, ok,” I snipe back. “So you brought me here so we can have cookies and tea over a good gossip?”
Daniel backhands me. Sometimes I just don’t know when to keep my mouth shut. My head snaps to the side as the force of Daniel’s slap echoes in the sterile room. Pain flares briefly, but I grit my teeth and swallow the groan that threatens to escape. My cheek burns, but it’s the kind of pain I can use to my advantage—another spark to fan the flames of my fury. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Son of a bitch.
I don’t realize I’ve said the words aloud until he slaps me again, and I take comfort in the fact that I’m starting to feel numb to the pain. I clamp my mouth shut but shoot him a scathing look that promises him I won’t deteriorate under the weight of his violence.
“You never did know when to shut up,” he sneers, his voice laced with condescension. I don’t respond. Instead, I sit rigidly in my chair, thinking of all the ways I’m going to kill him once I get myself out of the situation I’ve found myself in. Maybe I’ll just skin him alive; that would prolong his pain and my own satisfaction. “You know, you’ve grown into the sort of woman who would have made her daddy proud. For about five seconds.”
His mention of my father has bile rising in my throat. I don’t want him desecrating the memory of my father. He has no right.
My glare is a promise, a silent declaration that he can’t break me. He could do his worst, but I’ll stand my ground and fight him until my very last breath. My lips press into a thin line, holding back the flood of venom I want to hurl at him. Instead, I lock my body down, forcing myself to breathe evenly despite the tightness of the ropes digging into my skin.
My mind races. I don’t just imagine escape; I envision revenge. Brutal, drawn-out revenge against him.
“I see that mind of yours working,” Daniel says, circling me like a predator toying with its prey. “There’s no escape,” he tells me, as though he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “You’re out here in the middle of no-where.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “And you’ll die out here in the middle of no-where. I won’t even give you the honor of a pauper’s grave.”
I refuse to flinch. Instead, I turn my head slowly, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you’re going to kill me, Russo, just do it already. Or are you too much of a coward to finish the job you’ve started?”
His smirk falters for the briefest moment, and I feel a flicker of satisfaction. But then he chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, Jacklyn. Killing you would be too easy. Where’s the fun in that? No, I think I’ll let you watch your empire crumble first. Piece by piece. And then, maybe, I’ll think about putting you out of your misery.”
I roll my eyes, a calculated move to goad him further. “Typical. Still trying to prove you’re more than just a pathetic wannabe.”
The slap comes harder this time, snapping my head back so sharply my vision blurs for a moment. I taste blood again, but I refuse to make a sound. Instead, I turn back to him, my lips curling into a defiant, bloodstained smile. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Daniel’s jaw tightens, his mask of smug composure slipping. He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair as if to compose himself. But I’ve struck a nerve, and we both knew it.
“You’ve got a mouth on you, Jacklyn,” he says finally, his tone colder now. “But we’ll see how much fight you have left after a few days here. No empire. No allies. Just you running your big, bad mouth.”
I don’t respond. I don’t need to. My silence is louder than any response, a refusal to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. I see my father’s face in my mind, his voice steady and commanding as he taught me how to wield power, how to turn weakness into strength. I cling to those memories, using them as a shield against Daniel’s taunts.
My breathing quickens, but I force myself to stay calm. Daniel wants a reaction. He wants to see me unravel. But I won’t give him that satisfaction.
When he stops pacing in front of me, he crouches once again so we’re at eye level. “Here’s the thing. You think you’re untouchable. But every empire has cracks. And I know exactly where yours are. It’s only a matter of time before your house of cards collapses.”
I meet his gaze, my expression hard as steel. “Enjoy your little victory, Daniel. Because when I get out of here—and I will—you’ll wish you’d killed me when you had the chance.”
He stands, his smirk returning. “Good luck with that, Jackie.”
When he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him, I let out a slow, controlled breath. The walls are closing in, but I’m not beaten. Not yet. I tug experimentally at the ropes binding my wrists, feeling the faintest give. A plan is already forming in my mind.
Daniel Russo has already made one critical mistake; he’s underestimated me. And that will be his undoing.
I’ve lost all sense of time. It could be hours, or maybe days. But when a sharp shock of icy water splashes across my face, I come to with a start, my body jolting upright as much as the ropes binding me allow. I gasp, inhaling sharply, the cold searing my lungs as I struggle to catch my breath.
“Wakey, wakey, sunshine,” a familiar voice drawls, dripping with mockery.
My heart races. My vision sharpens, and there he is—Daniel, standing over me like some self-appointed executioner. He leans in close, his face twisted with a mix of amusement and malice, watching me as though I’m a curious specimen in a cage. His dark eyes gleam with predatory delight, and his lips curl into a smug smirk.
“Does it make you feel like a big man, assaulting a woman tied to a chair?” I spit, my voice venomous. I shake the water out of my face as my drenched shirt clings uncomfortably to my skin. His gaze lingers on me for a moment too long, and I curse my choice of wardrobe. At least black hides more than it reveals.
Daniel chuckles, the sound low and grating
He tilts his head, feigning contemplation. “Hmmm… what do you have in mind, Jackie girl?” His tone is mocking, his words deliberately provocative.
My jaw clenches, but I refuse to let him see me falter. “What’s the matter, Daniel? Big boy scared of a little girl?” My words are sharp, aimed to cut, and I know I’m goading him, but I’m past giving a damn. If he’s going to kill me, I’ll make sure he works for it.
His smirk fades, replaced by something colder, darker. Without warning, he strides forward, his hand reaching for the knife at his belt. The blade glints in the dim light as he circles me like a predator. My heart hammers, but I keep my expression defiant, my chin tilted high.
“You want a chance to prove just how tough you are?” Daniel says, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. He crouches down to eye level, the knife flashing dangerously close to my throat. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Before I can respond, he cuts through the ropes binding my wrists and ankles with swift, practiced precision. The moment my limbs are free, I lunge, my fist swinging toward his face. He anticipates the move, dodging easily, and laughs as he steps back.
“You’re eager. I’ll give you that,” he says, rolling his shoulders as he tosses the knife aside. “But if you’re going to fight me, you’re going to do it properly.”
I don’t wait for him to dictate the terms. I throw myself at him, my fists flying. He blocks my strikes effortlessly, his movements smooth and calculated. His size and strength dwarf mine, but I’ve never let that stop me before. I aim for his ribs, his jaw, anywhere I can land a hit, and when he grabs my arm to twist me off balance, I slam my knee into his side.
The impact earns me a grunt, but it only seems to fuel him. He retaliates with a brutal shove, sending me sprawling to the ground. I barely have time to recover before he’s on me, his weight pinning me down. My hands claw at his arms, my nails digging into his skin as I twist and writhe beneath him, refusing to go down quietly.
Daniel grins, his face inches from mine. “You’re feisty. I like that. It makes for deliciously wicked games.”
“Go to hell,” I snap, my voice a growl. I twist my hips and manage to throw him off just enough to scramble to my feet. Blood pounds in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me like wildfire. He’s stronger, but I’m faster. And right now, speed is my only weapon.
We circle each other, the tension thick in the air. I dart forward, landing a punch to his gut, but he grabs my wrist before I can pull back. His grip is like iron as he yanks me forward, throwing me off balance again. His fist connects with my side, and pain explodes through my ribs, stealing my breath.
But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I lash out with everything I have, my fists, my elbows, even a headbutt that leaves us both momentarily dazed. For every hit I land, he gives twice as hard, and soon I’m tasting blood, the metallic tang sharp on my tongue.
“Had enough yet?” he taunts, his voice crazy calm despite the cuts and bruises blooming across his face.
“Not even close,” I rasp, my chest heaving. I charge at him, aiming low, and manage to knock him off his feet. We hit the ground hard, a tangle of limbs and fury. My fists hammer against him, but he catches both my wrists, forcing them down as he flips us over.
This time, when he pins me, it’s final. His weight crushes me against the ground, his hands trapping mine above my head. I thrash, but it’s no use. His face hovers above mine, his breath hot against my skin.
“Enough,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “We’re done. You lost.”
I glare up at him, defiant even in defeat. My body aches, every muscle screaming in protest, but I refuse to look away. “Kill me, then,” I spit. “Get it over with.”
For a moment, he says nothing. His eyes bore into mine, and I see something flicker there—something raw, almost human. Then he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Oh, Jackie girl,” he murmurs, his tone laced with dark amusement. “Killing you would be so much fun. But I’d rather watch you burn.”