Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
The room ahead was as black as inky midnight and the steel clamps of my captors seared into my arms as they drug me through the hallway. They smelled like sweat, blood, and steel--a testament to their life choices. We passed through a metal door with a secure lock, the air stifling, like old flint and gunfire.
I was viciously tossed through the air, crashing onto something soft, a low grunt escaping my throat.
A mattress.
"Be careful, assholes." Antonio snapped, looming behind the two men in the dark room.
They both were huge, with bulging muscles stretching the fabric of their tight fitting shirts. One had a beard the color of fire, the other a bald head with a long, thick scar at the crown.
My gut churned as hands touched me again, but they only tugged back thick covers, then arranged me until I was lying under warm blankets. The sheets were made from a lush, expensive silk that did nothing to ease my panic.
Antonio came to stand next to the bed. "You should have movement restored in a few minutes."
"Fuck you," I spat out, filled with rage.
Antonio's deep laughter reverberated in the air. "Looks like you've already regained control of your mouth. El Caminante won't be happy about that."
"El Caminante is never happy," the bald, scarred man shook his head.
"No, he isn't." Antonio's calloused fingers probed the clear bandage covering my new tattoo, making me flinch. "Keep the bandage on for about a week," he said gruffly.
"We'll be here that long?"
"As long as he wants."
"And you don't give a shit about what just happened?"
"It could've been worse." He shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the fact that Manuel had just branded me . He nodded vaguely towards the other side of the room, "there's a full bathroom with whatever products you need."
"And is that supposed to make up for all of this?"
"El Caminante didn't have to provide you with anything at all. I'd consider yourself lucky," the fire-bearded man said.
"Stop calling him that. His name is Manuel. Just like half a million men with the same name in Cuba alone."
"He doesn't go by that anymore, conejita ." Antonio interjected. "Believe me, he has earned his nickname."
"'I'm not your bunny."
"Would you prefer la princesa ?" he mocked. "Already demanding a seat on your throne?"
"Yes. Now give me the key to the room so I can leave my kingdom behind. On fire."
"Not yet," he bopped my nose playfully. "Not until El Caminante says you're ready."
"I'm ready right now," I growled out, snapping at him with my teeth. I wanted to bite his goddamn finger off. "Believe me."
He only laughed, the two men chuckling as well, which only made me angrier.
"And when did you become his little bitch, Antonio? Did he cut off your balls when you came to work for him?"
Antonio stilled. His gaze narrowed in on me, his lips pursed, his jaw working. The men behind him shifted uncomfortably at the sudden charge of tension in the room.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he barked out at them, jerking his head towards the door. "Get the fuck out of here. Go do your jobs."
They straightened, cursing under their breath as they made their way towards the door. "Remember." Fire-beard turned in the doorway, his voice a warning, "No one touches her but El Caminante."
In the sliver of light from the doorway, Antonio's face hardened into a mask of pure rage and a cold shiver worked its way down my spine. Every muscle in his body was clenched tight, threatening to unleash his fury at any moment. I'd never seen him so angry. "You think I would be dumb enough to fucking touch her?"
"Fine! Cabrón," fire-beard hissed before slamming the door behind them, leaving us in darkness.
"Don't fucking slam--" Antonio didn't finish but instead turned towards me, though now, I could barely see the outline of his form.
My fingers and toes tingled and I balled my fingers into a fist, holding my breath. Waiting to see what he would do. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"What?"
"Our history together isn't exactly the best," I bit out sarcastically. Even though Antonio had always, somewhat , protected me, I didn't trust him. "You've kidnapped me once before, and now you're helping him hold me hostage."
It took him a moment to answer, and there was a large sigh first before there was a dipping weight of the mattress next to me. "First, there are cameras in the room," he said slowly, his voice low and heavy with warning. "I'm sure he's watching us right now. So don't get any ideas about trying to escape."
The air in the room thickened with tension as I searched the darkness, my gaze eventually falling on the telltale red blinking light of a camera, positioned right across my bed. Manuel had clearly wanted me to know I was being watched. "The prick wants to watch me sleep or something?"
"Maybe. Probably." A movement I couldn't make out shook the bed. "Not that I would blame him. You've probably figured out a way to look like you're sleeping while slithering out of the room like a snake."
"Maybe I have."
He didn't respond, only to shake his head at me.
"Why do you work for him anyhow?" I had to ask.
"I don't work for him. I'm familia Mendoza. And what the boss says, goes." He seemed to shrug in the darkness. "So here I am."
"You need a new family. Your current one sucks."
He didn't answer right away, his head bowed towards the floor. Then, words murmured so low, I could barely hear them. "I wasn't always like this, you know. But life doesn't always give you a choice about what kind of person you want to be."
"Bullshit."
His head snapped upwards. "You have no fucking idea what life can be like."
I laughed, the sound cold. "You have no fucking idea what's happened to me."
"I know more than you probably think."
"Oh yeah? And how would you know shit?"
"El Caminante told me. How you were protected from Castro's tropas de choque in Cuba. First by Knight, then by him."
"You think Manuel protected me? How the hell can you be so naive?"
"Keep your voice down," Antonio growled softly.
"You know what he's like," I continued, quieter now, the words like acid on my tongue as I thought of that time in my life. "You think I was better off with Manuel than living on the streets?" At this, Antonio didn't respond, and I continued. "And that was after I grew up. Did your parents sell your virginity to the highest bidder? Inject heroin in you when you fought them? Then every time afterwards to keep you compliant until you craved the drug yourself? You might've been a poor boy from the streets, dealt with some shit in your days, but you can't say that I was protected. Not even from the people who were supposed to love me."
He was silent for a long moment, so long that if I hadn’t still felt his weight on the bed, I would have thought that he'd slipped quietly from the room.
Then, finally, "You're right. I didn't know."
His voice sounded... strange . It sounded like regret, or guilt. Possibly even shame.
Something inside me softened. While I knew that my life had sucked, I had no idea what his life had been like. It could have been just as bad, or even worse. I had no right to judge him.
There was a reason he was where he was, I was certain.
And he could've treated me much worse.
I reached out my hand, squeezing his, whispering, "I'm sor--"
His hand jerked out of mine and I felt his weight lift from the bed. "Don't feel sorry for me, Tatiana. I've made my choices, and I'll live with the consequences." His voice was cold once more. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see the stiffness of his back, the anger back on his face. "Get some sleep. You're going to need it."
And with that, he left me alone in the room, the lock of the door clicking behind him.
I sighed heavily, my mind racing, wishing I'd taken advantage of his momentary softness to ask him about Honey. She was my first priority.
I tried to relax, to get some sleep. I would need my strength for what came next. But rage boiled up inside me as I lay helpless on the bed, somehow aware that Manuel was watching me through the video feed. I could feel it on me, slicing through my skin, intensifying the nauseous anxiety in my gut.
Only one thing was certain at this point: I was going to kill that bastard. He'd dared tattoo me--like I was a goddamn animal that belonged to him.
No. I was done belonging to anyone but myself.
I shifted my gaze towards the blinking light, staring straight into the lens, letting my anger rage. If he wanted to watch me, I'd watch him right back, thinking about all the things I was going to do to him.
As soon as I knew Honey was safe, I would make him suffer for every sin he had ever committed. Make sure he tasted every drop of the pain he had caused others, slowly and methodically, until justice was served.
When nothing happened, no guards came to drag me away to his torture chamber, I reached out my hand, stretching across the silken sheets, trying to get an idea of what my room was like.
When my fingers brushed over soft skin, I yelped and jerked back, falling off the bed with a thud. What the everloving hell?!
I jumped to my feet, my knees so weak that I had to clasp the dresser next to the bed to keep from falling again. All I could hear were my own panicked breaths and the sound of someone else shaking on the bed.
"Tatiana?" A whisper, so quiet I could barely hear it, but the sweet innocence pouring from that small voice was unmistakable.
"Honey?" I trembled as I called her name, reaching out blindly with my hands. She lunged forward, throwing her arms around my neck and I fell to my knees, holding her tight.
"I wasn't sure it was you," she cried out into my shoulder. "I was so scared."
I held her tight, feeling her heart pounding against mine. "I know, baby," I said, tears of relief burning the back of my eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"What took you so long?" she choked out. "You said you would always come for me."
"I'm here now." I stroked her hair, attempting to calm her.
"I waited for you. For so long."
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" I asked, already checking for any signs of harm, even before she could answer.
She shook her head against my chest. "No. I was a good girl, so he didn't hurt me."
"Of course," I reassured her, feeling a swell of pride at her courage. "Of course you were a good girl." With that, I scooped her up into my arms and settled back onto the bed with her in my lap, holding her.
"No." She pulled away from me, her face contorted with determination. "I was ready to be bad, just like Knight and you wanted me to. I would kill him—anyone who touched me! I would have done it!"
Her words felt like a blow to my chest, my stomach churning with guilt. With shaking hands, I cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes. "No, Honey. That's never what I wanted for you."
"But I was ready!" she shouted, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. "If he'd put his hands on me, I'd let out a roar like a mama elephant and beat him until he was dead!" She slammed a fist against her chest. "I'm strong enough—I can do it!"
"Honey, you are the strongest girl I know."
She searched my face for a long moment, eyes narrowed in concentration. "You believe me?"
"Yes," I said, without hesitation.
Her chin tilted upwards. "Good."
"And, it's my turn to be strong now. I'm going to have to do some bad things to get us out of here. And you're going to have to keep being brave, okay?"
Her eyebrows furrowed, intense focus sweeping across her face. "What do you mean?"
"I need you to do exactly what I say, when I say it. No matter what it is."
"And that's all I have to do?"
"Yes," I nodded. "I'll take care of you and me both now."
"Does that still make me strong?"
"Of course. As strong as an elephant facing down a lion."
She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. "I can do that." Then her shoulders slumped, as if all the fight had gone out of her. She suddenly looked small and vulnerable again.
I ran my thumb over her cheek. "I searched for you, you know," I said, my voice tight. "I looked everywhere, desperately hoping I'd find you safe and sound."
"I know," she whispered, her arms tight around my neck again. "I knew you and Knight and my mommy were looking for me. I was just so scared."
"It's okay to be scared," I murmured. "When you're still strong, even though you're scared, that makes you the bravest of all."
"Really?" she pulled away from me, still looking uncertain.
"Really." She thought about that but I could see the fatigue in her eyes. "Here," I held out the covers. "Climb in."
She slowly burrowed into the blankets and I wrapped them around her like a cocoon. Then I settled in next to her. "It's okay. I'm here now."
She nodded, not responding, and after a while, I could feel the tension slowly melting away from her body. Eventually, her breathing evened out.
"That man said a lot of bad words," she said softly, after a long while.
"He did." I smiled in spite of the situation, and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.
She yawned. "Can I go to sleep now?"
"Of course," I whispered.
She shifted a couple of times before growing still and, while I waited for her to fall asleep, I studied the room, determined that I was going to get her out of here safe and sound.
There was a little light coming from a small window, but I could see the dark shadows of steel bars, sealing us inside. With that small sliver of light, I could barely make out the outline of our four poster bed and a simple dresser. There was no closet, no nightstand, nothing else.
Not a permanent home then, despite Antonio's words.
A cool breeze washed over me and my eyes widened, searching for the source. It wasn't the window. It took me a few minutes, my gaze searching every break and shadow in the wall.
Finally, barely visible, I saw the wide opening of an industrial sized ventilation system--possibly just large enough to hold Honey.
Just as I was about to slip out from under the covers to inspect it more carefully, Honey's voice, sweet but hesitant, filled the air. "Tatiana?"
"Yes?" I was surprised she wasn't asleep yet.
"Do you think..." her small voice petered out and I gave her a moment to gather her courage. After a while, she spoke again, her voice stronger. "Do you think that if I killed that bad man, I would go to hell?"
My mind reeled with the question. "No." My voice was firm. "No. You won't go to hell."
"Do you think that he'll go to hell for being a bad man?"
"Yes." I nodded, even though she wasn't looking at me. "Yes, I know he will."
"Good," she said in a satisfied tone. "He shouldn't be so bad. Then maybe people would love him."
I rubbed a thumb across her skin. "You're right. If he wasn't so bad, maybe people would love him more."
The room was silent again, then. "Tatiana?"
"Yes, Honey?"
"Do you," again, she paused, but this time, her voice was even more hesitant, a trickle of fear infusing it, "do you think your parents are in hell for what they did to you?"
I was shocked into silence. I blinked, not knowing what to say. When I didn't answer her, she squeezed my hand. "It's okay. You don't have to answer. Will you lay down next to me while I sleep?"
Giving up on searching the room with her request, I snuggled down under the blanket, pulling her to me. "Yes." I kissed the top of her head. "I'll keep you safe from the bad guy, I promise."
"I know you will," she yawned, then mumbled as sleep finally began to take her. "I always knew you would."
Her words echoed through my mind, long after she fell asleep, rumbling over and over as I stared blankly into the darkness.
I was shocked at her questions about my parents, and humbled by her trust in me.
I thought I would never be able to sleep but the darkness took me, and I fell asleep.