8. Talia
Chapter 8
Talia
“M ax, please don’t go back to sleep.” I beg as I cup his face, feeling the heat of his fever against my palms. His beautiful eyes are glazed, and I can’t get him to stay awake. Brushing his dark hair off his forehead, his eyes flutter open before locking on mine. I see the confusion melt away for a few precious moments as he gives me a sad smile.
“ Svetik moy ,” he whispers, and it breaks my heart to hear the pain and longing in those two words. He’s starting to give up hope that he’ll survive this, and I can’t allow that to happen.
“Don’t you dare give up on me now,” I tell him. “We’re so close, Max. I can feel it. I know they’re coming for us. I just need you to hold on for a little bit longer.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up as he reaches his good hand up and caresses the side of my face with his fingers. “I wish I could’ve played you your song.”
“You’re still playing me that song. You’re not getting out of the deal that easily. You made me a promise, and I’m holding you to it.”
“I think I’m getting an infection. We both know how this is ending for me.”
“No,” I say, leaning closer. “This isn’t how our story ends. I didn’t just meet you to lose you. I refuse to accept that.” Even with tears in my eyes, I give him the biggest smile I can manage. “I never expected to find you here, but I did, and now that I have, I kind of have my heart set on keeping you, Max Melnikov.”
He gives me a faint smile and runs his thumb over my jawline. “I love you, Talia. Just in case I don’t make it, I want you to know it. I want you to at least hear it once, although I would’ve liked to have spent the rest of my life telling you that.”
My heart breaks at his words. Even under these conditions, it’s still beautiful to hear, and when I start crying harder, he wipes away the tears and gives me a smile that’s way too close to looking like a goodbye. Not liking it, I close the distance and press my lips to his. It’s a soft kiss, a gentle meeting of my lips to his, but I put my whole heart into it, hoping he can feel how much I love him.
When I pull back, he smiles up at me as I say, “I love you too, Max, and I will not allow you to die. We’re getting through this together, and once we’re out of here and I’ve had a chance to clean myself up, then I’ll kiss you how I really want to.”
He gives a soft breath of a laugh, already so exhausted his eyes are starting to shut. “Deal,” he whispers. “As soon as we’re both cleaned up and I’ve been given a massive dose of painkillers, then you can have your way with me as much as you want.”
I grin and kiss him again. “Another promise I’m going to hold you to.”
He smiles, but his eyes are already shut and within seconds he’s asleep again. He’s been sleeping a lot, barely drinking and refusing to eat. I know it must be his body’s way of dealing with the massive trauma and pain, but it scares the hell out of me, and with the fever starting, I can’t help but worry and fear the worst. I wrap my arms around him, holding him closer, being careful to not touch the hand that’s now a deep purplish blue and so swollen and disfigured that I’m scared he’ll never have full use of it again.
When the door opens, I tighten my grip on Max, but when it’s Mateo who walks in, I let out a relieved sigh. I may not fully trust him, but I trust him a thousand times more than the others. He’s carrying an armful of supplies, and when he’s close enough, he squats down in his expensive suit and starts to show me what he’s brought.
“More water and food,” he says, lining up several bottles of water along with some oranges and granola bars. I get the feeling he just went into the kitchen and grabbed what he could while no one was looking. “Some aspirin.” He hands me the small bottle of pills, and I almost weep with relief.
“Thank you,” I tell him, knowing it won’t be enough to dull the pain, but maybe it’ll help with his fever, and at this point, anything is better than nothing.
The last thing he holds out is small and black, and when he presses a button, a sharp-looking blade pops out. He puts the handle in my hands, but when I don’t grab it, he says, “Take it and use it if anyone else comes in here.”
“Why are you giving me this?”
His dark eyes meet mine, and I’d been so worried about Max when he first walked in that I hadn’t noticed how tired he looks. I don’t know what he’s been doing, but he hasn’t been living it up above us while we waste away down here. Mateo looks like a man who’s about at his stress limit. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, scratching at the light beard that’s grown in like he’s annoyed by it and wanting a shave.
“I have a feeling everything is about to go to shit,” he admits. His voice sounds as weary as he looks. “Just take the knife and use it if you need to. I won’t be able to watch Miguel, and you and I both know he can’t be trusted.”
Before he stands back up, he says, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t agree to any of this. At the time my hands were tied, but I did what I could to protect you.” I’m stunned by his confession but even more shocked when he grabs a set of keys from his pocket and starts to undo the cuffs around my wrists. Max groans in his sleep when Mateo gently unhooks the cuff from his good wrist, leaving us both free of our restraints. “Keep those close so you can pretend they’re still on. If anyone walks in and sees that you’re free, they’ll just shoot you,” he warns, and I nod and scoot the cuffs closer so they’re within easy reach.
He starts to stand, but I reach out and grab onto his forearm. His jaw tenses, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m filthy and touching his nice suit or if it’s because he just doesn’t like to be touched. I drop my hand and give him a small smile instead.
“Thank you,” I tell him, meaning every word of it. I’m not blind to who he is, but without him, I would’ve been assaulted and beaten by Miguel, and I’m pretty sure Max and I would both be dead. “I’ll tell my dad that you helped us,” I say, knowing it’s the best I can do. My family will want revenge, but if I can get them to spare his life, I will. It’s only fair.
Mateo nods before standing. He gives Max one more look. “Make sure he drinks more water and give him aspirin as soon as you can.”
“I will,” I promise and then thank him again before he walks out, leaving us alone. I look at the bottle of medicine, but it’s all written in Spanish, and I have no idea what it says. I don’t think Mateo would go through all this trouble just to poison Max, so I don’t waste time worrying about it. It’s worth the risk at this point.
Max is still unconscious, so I smooth back his hair and kiss his forehead. “I don’t think we need to go crazy and name our firstborn after him or anything, but I think Mateo just saved our asses.”
I’m hoping for at least a small smile or a flutter of his eyelids, but there’s nothing. Hating to wake him but knowing the medicine is more important right now, I kiss his head and trail my fingers down his cheek. His beard is longer now, and when I run my fingers through it, he gives a soft moan.
“I need you to wake up, Max. Mateo brought you some aspirin.”
I keep kissing his face and saying his name, urging him back to consciousness, and when he finally blinks his eyes open, a stab of guilt hits me when I see how much pain he’s in.
“I’m sorry I had to wake you, but you need to take some of this.”
“What?” he whispers, groggy and having a hard time focusing through the pain.
“Mateo brought some aspirin.” Pouring out two pills, I grab one of the bottles of water and help Max lift his head enough to take them. After he swallows, I get him to drink a little bit more before he shakes his head, refusing the rest of it.
“You need to drink,” I tell him. “Do you think you can eat something?”
“No, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to keep it down.” Lifting his good hand, he looks at me and asks, “Why am I not chained up?”
“Mateo undid them. He also gave me this,” I say, holding up the knife. When Max tries to sit up even further, I gently push him back down. “You need to lay back down.”
“We have a weapon. We need to try and leave,” he argues, but even as he’s saying the words, his body is wracked with chills and his face pales at the slightest movement of his injured arm.
“Goddammit,” he groans, lying back and resting his head on my lap again. He’s quiet for a second before he finally says, “Okay, new plan. We wait for someone to come, pretend we’re still chained up and I’m half-dead,” he stops to give me a lopsided grin. “That shouldn’t be hard to fake. Then I’ll kill him and take his weapons and cell phone. We’ll have a way to get in touch with our families, and I know Niki could guide us to a safe place to hide if I can just talk to him.”
“Okay, we have a plan then,” I say, starting to believe that we might actually make it out of here.
“We have a plan,” Max agrees, but his words are slurred, and when I look down at him, his eyes are even glassier than they have been, and for the first time since having his hand injured, the tension leaves his face, and I swear he lets out a sigh of relief. “This is really good aspirin.”
I grab the bottle, but since I didn’t magically learn Spanish in the last thirty minutes, I still can’t read the label. “I think it might be a painkiller,” I say. Looking back down at him, I add, “A really powerful one.”
Max lets out a soft laugh and reaches up to touch my face. The long, graceful fingers of his uninjured hand caress my cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I really want to leave this place, but I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want to leave you either,” I tell him, brushing back his hair. He closes his eyes at my touch, a lazy smile playing at his lips, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
“Okay, it’s settled then. We’re staying together.” He cracks his eyes open and gives a soft laugh. “I can’t wait to meet your dog.”
I smile down at him. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. I think he’ll like you.”
“I think he’ll see me as competition for your affection,” he murmurs. He’s still stroking my face, but the movements are becoming clumsy.
“There’s room for both of you,” I tell him, watching his eyes drift closed.
“I hope so, svetik moy ,” he whispers. His hand falls as the last of his strength leaves him, but before he falls asleep, he says, “Because I’m not letting you go.”
I kiss him and stroke his hair as he falls into a deeper sleep. While he gets a much-needed escape from the anguish he’s been living with nonstop, I eat half a granola bar and drink some water, saving the rest for later. Slipping the metal cuff lightly around Max’s good wrist so it looks like he’s still chained, I grab my own and do the same. Satisfied it would look believable from a distance, I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes, trying to rest. I’m exhausted but too afraid to sleep and leave both of us vulnerable, so I force myself to stay coherent enough to hear the door if it opens.
After enough time has passed that I start to think it might be safe enough to take a quick nap, the sound of the door has my eyes jerking open. I have just enough time to slide the knife under my thigh before Miguel walks in, shutting the door behind him.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I tell him, wrapping my arm tighter around Max.
I didn’t expect my words to make him turn around and leave, so I’m not surprised when he ignores me and starts walking closer. He runs his eyes over Max, and when he sees how damaged his hand is, he gives a laugh that has me tightening my grip on the handle of the knife.
He points a finger at me and says, “No one to stop me now.”
His accent is thick, but I understand every word, and it has me shaking Max’s shoulder, trying to get him to wake. He doesn’t respond, not even a groan to let me know he’s annoyed at being pulled from his pain-free sleep. He’s completely out of it, and he won’t be waking up any time soon to save my ass.
Not wanting Miguel anywhere near Max while he’s completely defenseless, I keep the knife hidden behind my leg and scoot back as far as I can. Miguel thinks I’m trying to escape him and smiles as he slowly walks closer. I’ve never been more scared in my life. If Mateo hadn’t given me a weapon, I’d be completely at this man’s mercy, but even with the knife, I don’t feel safe. I’m not my brothers. I haven’t been trained to handle this kind of thing, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
“No one to save you now, puta. ” Miguel is too focused on being a domineering asshole to notice my cuffs aren’t fully buckled and my hand is still hidden behind my thigh.
“Stay away from me.” I scurry backwards until I hit the wall and there’s nowhere else for me to run to. He sees that I’m trapped and smiles even bigger.
Reaching down, he starts to unbuckle his belt, not even bothering with a weapon since I’m clearly not any kind of threat. I hope like hell I’m able to prove him wrong in a few minutes. My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife as my thumb rests on the button that will spring the blade free. The sickening sound of Miguel’s zipper being undone is enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
My heart is fast and erratic, and the fear coursing through me makes it hard to think. Everything inside me starts to freeze when Miguel stops less than a foot away from me. His large body towers over mine, and all I can think to do is curl in on myself as much as possible. He sees my fear and loves it. A normal man would be disgusted, but the bulge in his unbuttoned pants just grows bigger the harder I cry.
“You sick fuck,” I yell at him, but he just winks and roughly nudges my feet apart. Grabbing my thigh, he holds me still while lowering down. His knees rest on the hard floor on either side of me, locking me in place. With the knife held against my palm, I keep it facing away from him and bring my hands to my stomach. He’s too distracted by the idea of raping me to notice anything suspicious about my movements.
Miguel lets out a disgusting groan of pleasure when he rests his hand by my head and rocks his hips, letting me feel how much he’s looking forward to this. I turn my head to look at Max, but he’s still knocked out by whatever the hell was in those pills. I know he’ll never forgive himself if Miguel manages to go through with this, and that’s why I’m going to make damn sure that grinding against my jeans is the closest he’s ever going to get.
He starts to tug on my shirt, pushing it out of the way so he can paw at the button on my jeans like a fucking animal.
“You’re a fucking monster,” I tell him, and when his dark eyes meet mine, I take the opportunity to slip my hand to the side. My whole body is shaking with what I’m about to do. I’ve never been so scared. I’m terrified of failing and what that will mean for me, but I’m also horrified at the idea of actually sinking this knife into someone. No matter how vile of a man Miguel is, this is going to be horrific, and I’m not entirely convinced I have the stomach for it.
He leaves me no choice when he starts to undo my zipper, though. It’s him or me, and I choose me.
Before I can lose my nerve, I push the button, releasing the blade and plunging it into his neck before he can register what I’m doing. It’s not the smooth maneuver that my brothers could do, but my clunky attempt gets the job done. Miguel screams as the blade sinks in, and I grimace and shove harder, forcing it in to the hilt, cutting him off mid-scream as blood rains down onto me. As soon as he lifts up to grab at the knife, I scoot free and run to Max, keeping my body in front of his to protect it.
The room is filled with a sickening gurgling sound and pained groans. I clamp my hands over my ears, sobbing and trying like hell to not pass out. Miguel stumbles back, loses his balance, and then falls to the floor. He’s had enough training to not pull out the knife, but my stab had been frantic, causing a large gash at his throat instead of a single clean entry point. There’s no way to staunch the blood, and soon his shirt is soaked in it. He tries to use his hands to slow the blood down, but it’s useless, and when his dark eyes meet mine, I can tell he knows it. There’s so much hate in the look he’s giving me, and I shrink back at the sight of it. I know if he could reach me, he would give me the most painful and violent death possible, but he’s so weak, he’s swaying on his knees.
The raspy, gurgling of his breaths come faster before he starts choking on the blood, gasping for air as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. He wants me to see what I’ve done, wants me to watch every agonizing second of his death. I can’t look away. As much as I want to, I can’t bring myself to look away.
He’s a monster, I remind myself. He destroyed Max’s hand, beat him on a daily basis, and just tried to rape me. This is not my fault. I place my hand on Max’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, letting it ground me while I watch the man who made our lives a living hell slowly die. His breathing slows until he slumps onto his side, lacking the strength to even sit up. This time I’m the one who keeps my eyes on his, making sure that I’m the last thing he sees in this world, wanting him to know that I’m the one who ended him.
“Fuck you, Miguel,” I whisper.
He makes a noise, probably trying to tell me the feeling is mutual, but the noise dies in his throat as he takes his last breath before his whole body goes still. Blood pools around him, pouring out of the wound until his heart stops beating and it slows to a trickle until eventually stopping altogether. Miguel’s eyes are still open. They’re just as empty as when he was alive, but there’s no life in them now. They’re devoid of his usual rage and hate, and I can’t help but wonder what in the hell happened to him to have created such an evil man.
I look down at Max and give his chest a soft pat and say, “I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you when you wake.”
He doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard me, so I focus on what needs to be done next. Forcing myself up, I ditch the cuffs and slowly walk over to the man I just killed. Not wanting to touch him, but knowing I have to, I kneel beside him and start patting him down.
“Are you kidding me?” I mutter, realizing he doesn’t have a gun or a cellphone on his body. All I find is another knife, but this one is bigger than the one I stuck in his neck, so I keep it, grateful that I don’t have to pull mine out. Rolling him over, so I don’t have to look at his face anymore, I leave him where he is and go back over to Max. Sitting in front of him so my body is between him and the door, I grip the knife in one hand and put all my attention on the door.
I flinch when I hear gunshots going off above us. One bloody hand rests on Max’s thigh, the other is still gripping the knife, and I know we’re good and fucked if a bunch of Lorenzo’s men come barging through the door. There’s no way to lock it, and there’s nothing in here to brace against it. My eyes flit to the ceiling when more gunshots go off.
“Please tell me that’s you, Dad,” I whisper.
Regardless of who it is, I’m not leaving Max. Anyone who comes through that door is going to have to go through me to get to him. I told him we were in this together to the end, and I meant every word of that promise.
Either we leave this place together, or we don’t leave it at all.