2. Talia
Chapter 2
Talia
I keep my arms wrapped around my legs and my eyes squeezed shut. Every groan of pain makes me feel like I’m going to be sick, but I know it’ll be worse for Max if I let on how much this is bothering me. Miguel is a sick, twisted fuck of a man, and he’ll never stop if he thinks this is causing me unbearable pain. My cheek rests on my knee so my face is turned away from them, and I’m ignoring every instinct I have that’s telling me I need to scream and beg for him to leave Max alone.
My body flinches when I hear the ragged yell that fills the room right before Miguel gives a sickening laugh. I hear them lower Max’s body, and then the sound of him being dragged back over to me. It’s not a good sign that he’s not walking back, but I refuse to lift my head and look. I’ll close the distance as soon as they leave.
When I feel someone kick my foot, I finally lift my head to find Juan staring down at me. He’s holding two plates of food and a couple more bottles of water. I reach up and take what he’s offering, knowing Max is going to need his strength if he’s going to survive all these beatings. The food on the plates isn’t nearly enough, but it’s better than nothing.
Ignoring my desire to check on Max, I set our food down and take a lazy drink of water while watching the three men slowly make their way to the door. Miguel smirks, giving me a wink before leaving. Juan is the last to step out, and I’m surprised when he leaves the light on so I can see to eat. He isn’t usually that considerate, but instead of questioning it, I take full advantage of it and quickly crawl to Max. His beautiful face is bloody and swollen, every part of him bruised and hurting, and when I cup his face and he doesn’t even stir, panic starts to set in.
“Max, wake up.” I keep my voice low in case they’re listening at the door. My fingers run over the sharp line of his jaw before tracing along his eyebrow. Miguel’s opened the deep cut that had finally started to heal. Blood drips down his face, landing in small puddles on the cement floor. I brush aside the dark strands of his hair and lean in closer.
“Please wake up,” I beg. Resting the side of my face gently against his chest, I listen to the steady beat of his heart, letting it convince me that he’s okay. My eyes close as I fight tears, and when I feel him give a soft groan, I quickly lift my head to look at him.
“Are you okay?” I ask, watching him wince and slowly blink his eyes open.
The first thing he does when he sees me is reach a hand up to touch the side of my face while the corner of his mouth lifts in a small grin. “ Svetik moy ,” he whispers, and my heart gives a jump at hearing him call me his light. He was just beaten and he’s obviously in an excruciating amount of pain, but the first words from his busted lips are sweet enough to make me momentarily forget about the hell we’re currently in. For just a few precious seconds, I lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.
“You need to drink some water and eat,” I finally say, knowing our time with the light on is limited and that we need to take advantage of it. That doesn’t stop me from holding his palm to my cheek for one more second, though. I kiss his hand, wondering what kind of music these long fingers can make, and then force myself to release him.
“Can you sit up?” I ask. “Do you think anything is broken?”
He winces again but manages to sit up, and when he’s leaning against the wall, his breaths are quick and shallow, and I’m more than a little worried about him.
“I’m fine,” he says, reading the worry that’s written all over my face.
“You passed out,” I remind him, “and you can’t even take in a deep breath.”
“But I’m still breathing, and that’s got to count for something.”
I know he’s trying to look on the bright side, and he’s right, we’re both still alive and that’s the most important thing, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have some serious internal injuries going on. I’m terrified he’s going to get an infection, and when I scoot closer and rest my hand on his forehead, trying to feel for a fever, he smiles while his grey eyes study mine.
“I don’t know how anyone can look so good after having their ass kicked,” I say, making him give a soft laugh.
“Maybe it’s just because I’m so used to it. Miguel’s been kicking my ass at least once a day since I got here. I’m a pro at it now.”
Relieved that he doesn’t feel hot to the touch, I drop my hand and grab one of the bottles of water for him. Opening it, I put it in his hand and say, “Something tells me you could easily kick his ass if you didn’t have your hands cuffed.”
Instead of being cocky about it, he just shrugs and takes a long drink. While he’s busy, I turn and grab the food. Before I turn around, I quickly take some of the meat off my plate and put it on his. He needs the protein more than me. He’s watching me when I turn to face him, and when I put the plate on his lap, he looks at it and raises the brow that’s not cut and bleeding.
“Hurry up and eat before they turn the lights off,” I say, ignoring the curious look he’s giving me. I take my own plate and sit next to him. We didn’t get forks today, just a wrapped tortilla with chicken and rice. I’m grateful the food isn’t rancid and that we’re actually being fed, but it’s never enough, and I’m hungry all the time. My pants are loose around my waist, and my sweatshirt feels baggier than it did when I first got here. I have no idea what Max looked like before he came here, but I’m guessing he’s lost a lot of weight too. His shoulders are still broad, his body obviously fit and toned, but something tells me he was even more magnificent before the cartel got their hands on him.
Sitting next to him, I take a bite of my tortilla, relieved when he does the same. We eat in silence, both of us forcing ourselves to take it slow. I was saving food, but one day Miguel caught me doing it, and he took it from me. The devastation I’d felt at losing that small amount of precious calories was enough to ensure I’ll never try it again. Now, I clean my plate, eating every single thing they bring, forced to blindly trust that it won’t be my last meal.
Max chews slowly. His busted lip must cause him pain every time he takes a bite. He never complains, though. I may not know a lot about the man next to me, but I know he has integrity and honor, and I feel safe when I’m next to him. I look up when he places a piece of chicken on my plate.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to give it back.
He gives me a small smile. “I know you gave me some of your food. I appreciate it, but I’m not taking it from you, Talia. You need your strength, too, and you’re losing weight too quickly.”
I try again to give it back to him. “But I’m not being beaten. You need it more than I do.”
His fingers caress my cheek before he gently taps my lips. “Please eat it.”
I want to argue, but I know it won’t do any good. When I open my mouth and eat the bite he’s given me, he looks relieved.
“I wish I could take care of you better,” he confesses. “Every instinct I have is demanding I keep you safe, and it kills me that I’m helpless to do anything about it.”
“You make me feel safe,” I admit. I give him a small smile. “I know it sounds shitty, but I’m really glad you’re here with me.”
He gives a soft laugh and runs his thumb over my cheek. “Me too. Although, I kind of wish we’d met in a coffeeshop or something equally boring and safe.”
“You would’ve had to come to Oregon for that to happen,” I remind him.
He gestures around at our dungeon. “I guess Hotel Shithole was destined to be our meet cute.”
“How do you know what a meet cute is?” I ask with a laugh.
“I have female cousins. I hear them talking about their books, and I pay attention.”
“I’m impressed.”
Grabbing his bottle of water, he gives me a grin before taking a drink. When he’s done, he hands me his bottle.
“We can share this one and save the other.” I see the amusement in his grey eyes when he adds, “Unless you think I have germs.”
I grab the bottle and take a drink. “I’m pretty sure your mouth is one of the cleanest things in this room.”
We pass the water back and forth, both of us sating our thirst enough to get us through the next few hours.
“When we get out of here, I’m going to drink a gallon of water,” I say, and then add, “And eat a really big pizza. What about you?”
He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. “After I drink a gallon of water, I want a vanilla milkshake and a greasy cheeseburger and fries, but a pizza sounds good, too.”
I lean back next to him and nudge his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll share mine with you.”
He blinks an eye open and looks at me without lifting his head up. “And maybe I’ll share my fries with you.”
“But not your cheeseburger, huh?”
Grinning, he says, “I’ll half it with you.”
We sit in a comfortable silence, the side of my body pressed against his, and wait. There’s no way they’re going to let us have the lights on all day. They enjoy torturing us way too much to do that.
Max voices exactly what I’m thinking when he says, “I want to close my eyes and sleep, but I don’t want to waste the light. The fuckers never leave it on.”
I lean my head against his shoulder and smile when he takes my hand in his. His thumb runs over the back of my hand as he says, “Teach me some sign language. I want to be able to talk to your brother.”
I’m touched that he cares enough to want to learn, but I try not to read too much into it as I slowly teach him how to fingerspell the alphabet. We’ve formed an attachment, that was bound to happen, but just because he feels something for me now doesn’t mean he’ll still feel something once we’re out of here and we’ve gone back to our normal lives.
“You’re a fast learner,” I tell him when he quickly masters the alphabet and starts to spell words out. He hasn’t developed the speed yet, but it’s still impressive.
“I have a pretty good memory,” he says. “Must be all the music I memorized as a kid.”
“Something tells me you’ve just always been smart.”
“My brother’s the smart one,” he says, and there’s no jealousy in his tone, just pride and an obvious love. “You’ll like him.”
“You want me to meet your family?”
He fingerspells yes, and I grin like an idiot before showing him the sign for yes and no. Repeating the sign, he moves his fist up and down like he’s knocking on a door while he says, “Yes, I want you to meet my family.”
“I’d like that,” I whisper and lean my head against his shoulder.
Resting his hand on mine again, he says, “I know the conditions are awful and that you’re seeing me at my absolute filthiest and weakest, but I’m glad I met you, Talia, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
I squeeze his hand back. “I’m glad I met you, too, and you look pretty good for being at your worst. I can’t wait to see what you look like at your best.”
His laugh turns into a cough that leaves him wincing and clutching his chest. Fear races through me as I watch him struggle to get control of himself. I squeeze his hand and wait for his breathing to return to normal, and as soon as it does, I surprise him by cupping his cheek and turning him to face me.
“You will not die and leave me here all alone,” I tell him. “Promise me.”
“I promise I won’t die and leave you here alone.”
We both know it isn’t a promise he can make, but I need to hear it, and he needs something to cling to. I don’t care what line of work he’s in. I know my family, and despite the work they do, I know what kind of men they are, and Max is the same way. Knowing he’s made me this promise will give him the strength to endure Miguel’s beatings. It’ll give him the strength to keep breathing when everything inside him is screaming to give up.
Before I let him go, I run my thumb over the beard he’s grown since being here. “Do you usually have facial hair?”
He gives me a half-smile. “No, I usually shave every day, and it’ll be one of the first things I do when we’re free. It’s driving me crazy. First, a ridiculously long, hot shower, then I’m shaving, and then we’re eating until we can’t move.”
“Sounds like a date,” I tell him, making him smile even bigger. “Just for the record, I’ll be thrilled to shave my legs and armpits. I’m not the kind of girl who has to wear makeup every day, but I do need a shower, and I like to be smooth.” I laugh and add, “At least I’m wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. I’d be so embarrassed if they’d grabbed me in shorts and a tank top with no way to hide how furry I’m getting.”
The sound of his deep laugh brings a smile to my face. It’s the first time I’ve heard a real laugh from him and quickly decide it’s one of my new favorite things. Meeting his eyes once more, I drop my hand and put my head back on his shoulder. We sit, each of us taking comfort from the other, until the door opens and I quickly scoot aside so there’s a couple of feet between us.
I’m expecting our three tormentors, but I’m surprised to see Mateo and his dad with them. I swear I feel Max’s whole body tense, even though we’re no longer touching. I ignore the sneer Miguel is giving me and instead focus on Mateo, who seems to be the rational one in the cartel.
Lorenzo motions in my direction, and Miguel and Juan quickly step towards me. Grabbing my arms, they haul me up as Lorenzo walks over and stops in front of me. His dark eyes study mine, and I don’t know if I should look down and take on a submissive attitude or keep eye contact and show him that I do have a spine. I’m not sure which will turn out better for me, but when I see the hard glint in his eyes and the way they narrow at my willfulness, I quickly look down, deciding that Lorenzo likes his women to be completely subservient to him. I’m not at all surprised. He wouldn’t know what to do with a woman who actually challenged him. A man who doesn’t think he can have an equal in a woman is a very small man indeed.
When my gaze is on the floor, he gives a soft grunt of approval and says, “We need to send a video to your dad.” He reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing my face up to his. I keep my eyes down, earning me another soft noise of approval. I desperately want to meet his eyes and tell him to go fuck himself, but I’m not stupid. I know our lives are in his hands, and I won’t put us at risk for a very fleeting satisfaction, no matter how tempting it might be.
“You don’t look scared enough,” he continues, and my heart starts to race at his words. “Have we been treating you too well?”
He looks over at Miguel and says something in Spanish that has both men laughing. I chance a quick look over at Mateo, but the man’s face is unreadable. He’s at least not laughing along with the others, making me stand by my initial thoughts of him being the most reasonable among them. I’m not stupid enough to think he cares about me, but he is smart enough to know that a ruined prisoner is a useless one. If they kill me or hurt me worse than they already have, my family will hunt them down, and they won’t rest until every single one of them is dead. They will destroy this cartel, leaving nothing behind but the memory of who the Amaya family had once been.
The sound of Max being pulled up has me turning my head in surprise. I try not to show how worried I am about him, but Lorenzo must see something in my eyes, because he gives a soft laugh and tightens his grip on my chin. Leaning closer, he whispers, “You shouldn’t get attached to him, sweetheart, because I doubt he’s going to survive his stay with us.”
He doesn’t wait for a response from me, just barks out an order in Spanish that has Miguel pulling his knife out while Juan and Jose restrain Max so he’s bound between them and unable to move.
Lorenzo pinches my chin between his fingers hard enough to bring my attention back to him. His eyes are cold and empty and so fucking cruel. “You’re going to put on a good show for Daddy, aren’t you, sweetheart? If you do, then your precious Max won’t lose an eye today. But if you don’t, then we’re going to need to provide some motivation.” He lets go of my chin to give my cheek a hard enough smack to sting. “It’s all up to you.”
Max lets out a pained grunt when Miguel grabs him by the neck, placing the tip of his sharp knife right below Max’s left eye. His body freezes in place, knowing that struggling will only cause the blade to sink into the delicate skin.
“I’ll do it,” I quickly say, looking at Lorenzo. “I’ll say anything you want me to.”
“Of course you will, honey,” he tells me with a smug grin. He knew this was always going to be the outcome. A man like Lorenzo is used to getting his way, because he’s the kind of guy who will do anything to ensure he always gets it. It makes me wonder how many times he’s used family members to make men do his dirty work. Threaten a man’s child or wife, and he’ll do just about anything. It makes me hate him all the more and just proves what a weak man he really is.
He grabs his phone and steps back so I’m alone in the shot when he angles the camera lens towards me.
“When I hit record, you’re going to look into the camera and plead for your dad to give me what I’ve asked for. You’re going to tell him that he has one week to comply or the next video is going to be of you getting fucked by all my men, one by one, sweetheart.”
I feel the blood drain from my face at his words while Max hisses out a breath. When I look over, I see the line of blood that’s forming and starting to drip down his cheek. In his anger, he’d struggled against the hold on his arms, and Miguel allowed the blade to sink in. It’s not deep, not yet at least, and there are still two beautiful grey eyes meeting mine. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it stays that way.
“I’m okay,” I tell him in Russian. “Please don’t fight them.” Looking back at Lorenzo, I say, “I’m ready. You don’t need to hurt him. I’ll say it all.”
He points a finger at me. “You will speak only English. If you start speaking in Russian, Miguel starts cutting.”
“I won’t speak in Russian,” I promise him.
When he nods and hits record, it’s not hard to let the tears fall. I stare into the camera, knowing my dad and brothers will see this, and the thought of them quickly has me sobbing. Lorenzo doesn’t push me to hurry. He’s enjoying this way too much to cut it short. I think about Max and the threat he’s under right now and the horrific images that are now in my head of being raped by a long line of men. It’s not hard to lose my shit. What’s hard is getting myself under control so I can actually speak. Knowing this is my one chance to get a message to my dad, I try like hell to think of how to do it. It’s not live. Even if I manage to yell something in Russian, he’ll just delete it and we’ll start again after Max loses an eye. I can’t risk him getting hurt. The only other option I have is to use sign language.
My hands are shaking, terrified that one of them will notice what I’m doing, but when I hold up my hands and clasp them together like I’m pleading and start talking, no one seems to notice when I move my right hand into the letter A.
“Dad,” I say in a shaky voice, “please do whatever they tell you to do.” I move my hand into an M before quickly clasping my hands together again like I’m just nervous and fidgeting. I do another quick A. “I’m really scared, and I want to come home.” I start to lose my nerve and dart my eyes to Max. His grey eyes meet mine, so much strength and courage in them, even with the knife threatening to cut into him.
Bringing my eyes back to the camera, I make a quick Y and scratch at my face, shaking my head as the tears fall harder. It’s not hard to act like I’m going crazy, because I feel like I am. I do the last A, and after I’ve spelled Amaya, I sob even harder. Risking everything, I yell, “You have to give them what they want, Dad,” while I make the sign for basement and then smack my hand against my chest. “They’re going to hurt me very badly if you don’t agree to their terms. You have one week.”
I didn’t mention the rape, but he’ll know what I’m referring to. I want to spare him the horror of having to hear me say it. I know I only have seconds left, so I quickly say, “I love you so much,” before Lorenzo ends the recording. I sob, letting my hands shake and fidget like I can’t keep them still. If they figure out what I’ve done, Max and I are fucked. The fear leaves me nauseated with the room starting to spin.
“Very good, sweetheart,” Lorenzo says, and I slowly let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Let’s see if that makes Daddy make the right choice.” Before he leaves, he cups my face again and gives a cruel laugh. “If he doesn’t, I’ll be first in line.”
He walks away, leaving Mateo and the others behind. I fall to the ground, too disgusted and scared to stay upright. Miguel laughs at my reaction and says something in Spanish that makes Jose and Juan laugh. Mateo stays quiet, his face the same unreadable mask he always wears.
When Miguel leans in closer to Max, forcing the blade of his knife to break skin again, Mateo barks out an order that has him dropping his arm. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to, but despite how stupid I think he is, he’s smart enough to not go against the boss’s son.
They let Max go before filing out of the room after Mateo. Miguel flicks the light off and then shuts the door, leaving us in darkness again.
“Max,” I whisper, barely getting the word out before his arms are wrapping around me and he’s pulling me in for a hug.
“It’s not going to happen,” he says, cupping the back of my head and holding me close. “I won’t fucking allow it.”
I don’t ask how he’s going to stop them. Deep down, I know that he can’t, but the words are still a comfort to hear, and the strength in his arms makes me feel safe. I cling to him, not wanting to let him go, and when he scoots us back against the wall, I only let go long enough so I can untwist my chain before I cuddle up against him again.
“Am I hurting you?” I’m trying to be gentle, but I know every inch of his body must hurt. When I start to move off him, he tightens his arms, locking me in place.
“Please don’t move,” he whispers. “You’re not hurting me, and even if you were, I still wouldn’t want you to move.”
I smile and lean into him again. He runs his fingers along my back and arm, soothing me as I relax into him even more.
“What did you sign in the video? Were you spelling their name?”
“Do you think they noticed?”
He hears the fear in my voice and cups the back of my head before gently kissing my forehead. I close my eyes at the sensation of his lips on my skin. Even though it’s not on the lips, it’s still the first kiss I’ve ever been given outside of my family. If bigger things weren’t at stake, I’d be mortified by how dirty I am, but my priorities have shifted since being kidnapped. The kiss is sweet, and instead of freaking out about my dirty hair and skin, I savor the touch and squeeze him tighter.
“I don’t think they noticed,” he murmurs against my skin. “I recognized some of the letters you taught me, though, and figured it out. What did you sign at the end?”
“Basement,” I whisper.
“Smart girl,” he whispers back, and I grin at his praise.
“Val probably already told them everything, but maybe he forgot my dad’s name or doesn’t remember that I told him. He was barely conscious when they dragged him away and so upset about leaving you.”
He’s quiet for a second before he says, “I hope he made it out, but if he didn’t, then your family will at least know who has us and where to look for us when they get here.”
I hear the pain in his voice, so I quickly say, “He made it out, Max. I know he did.”
“I’ll never be able to face my family again if he didn’t, especially Yelena. It will kill her.”
“He made it out,” I say again, “and they’re going to be parents and you’ll be their favorite uncle.”
I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s smiling when he says, “You heard that conversation?”
“I did. You’ll make a great uncle, Max. I can’t wait until I’m an aunt, but I think that will be a while. Dima has no desire to settle down and choose one girl, and Bran has yet to meet anyone. He’s not shy, but he lets very few people get close to him. He was teased in school for being deaf. Well, he was briefly teased at school.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there. What happened?”
“I punched the boy who was doing it and nearly got expelled. Michelle, the interpreter who helped Bran at school, told me that I should just ignore them, but I couldn’t. The kid was an ass and he deserved it.”
Max laughs and traces a finger along my jaw.
I continue my story while he lightly strokes my skin. “Dima was a few grades above us, so it was hard for him to get involved, but it didn’t matter because I made it very clear that no one was going to make fun of my brother. We’ve always looked out for one another.” I smile at the memory and say, “After that playground incident, Bran gave me my name sign.”
“What’s a name sign?” he asks.
“It’s a special sign that’s given to you from someone in the Deaf community. It’s not something a hearing person gives to themselves. It goes beyond just fingerspelling someone’s name; it’s a sign that has meaning.”
“I had no idea. What’s yours?”
I smile and reach out until I find his hands and place them over mine so he can feel what I’m doing. I make the letter T with my hand and then bring it to my chest before pushing it out and slightly up. Max keeps his hands on mine, following the movement as I say, “It’s the letter T mixed in with the sign for brave. Bran said I was the fiercest kid on the playground.”
Max laughs softly and keeps his hands on mine, lightly stroking my skin while I say, “I’d do anything to protect my brothers.”
“Sounds like my family. My younger brother constantly has his mind on other things, and there were a few students who thought that made him an easy target. They found out very quickly how wrong they were about that. My cousins and I have always had each others’ backs. It helped that everyone was terrified of my cousin Sasha.”
“Why?”
He gives another soft laugh and says, “Because the guy is fucking insane.”
I smile, assuming he’s exaggerating, and say, “So you never had an interest in computers like your brother?”
“God, no. I’m terrible with them. My dad and Niki make it look so easy, but it’s just nonsense to me. If you need something Googled, I’m your man, but if you want to steal money or hack into a company, I’m useless.”
“Or if I want to hear a beautiful song, then you’re my man.” I’m sure he can hear the smile in my voice when I say it, because he gives a soft sigh and kisses my forehead again, letting his lips linger on my skin.
“Yes, I’m definitely your man.”
I smile even bigger, refusing to let anything else encroach on this moment. We’re not guaranteed a tomorrow. Hell, we’re not guaranteed another fifteen minutes, so I’m not wasting a second of the time I have with him. Lorenzo said we have a week, and I have to hope that it’s enough time. I know my dad won’t leave me here. I know he’ll move heaven and earth to save me, and I know that the man who’s hugging me like I’m something precious will do everything he can to keep me safe.
“Try and get some sleep,” he whispers. “If they skip our next meal again, we can share the bottle of water.”
“So much better than a pizza.” My stomach ignores my sarcasm and gives a loud growl.
“They can’t starve us. They need us alive for at least another week.” He strokes my hair while my eyes drift closed. “I know it’s not much of a comfort, but I swear to you that I won’t let them hurt you. I’ll figure out a way to stop it, Talia. I promise.”
“I know you will,” I tell him, sinking down further so my head is resting on his thigh. He keeps stroking my hair, putting me to sleep with his soft, comforting touch.
“Get some sleep, svetik moy ,” he whispers right before I drift off.