30. Beginning of The End Silene
30
Beginning of The End: Silene
A fter killing the man who helped take Ronan away, I numbly stumble over to where my black dagger lays on the ground. Turning it over in my hand, I let the feeling of what it had been wash over me. Closing my eyes, small memories flicker through me but instead of happiness or peace, all I feel is rage.
Red hot anger courses through my body and doesn’t stop until it has me deep within its clutches. But when I reopen my eyes, my focus narrows on the paper placed where I had just picked up the blade. It was dirty and crumpled, but it couldn’t have come from anyone other than Ronan. It had to have been something that he set down last night while I slept.
Curiosity begs me to open the small paper to check what’s inside, but its quiet pleas are nothing compared to my fury. So I pocket it before climbing back on top of the house. I waste no time washing off the hard flakes of blood that are still irritating my skin, but when my gaze catches in the mirror, I don’t see myself anymore. At least, not the version of me I had become—but the sixteen year old who had no one in this world that loved her. The one who was constantly scared of what her father’s affection meant for her, even if it was all she wanted. I saw her innocent and fearful eyes, and knew that the version of myself today felt far too much like she did.
I did not come all this way to be who I was, though.
We do not die today.
I say this in my mind as I clean off the rest of the blood and went on a hunt through the house. I’m scouring the room Ronan and I used to share, searching for anything that can guide me in the right direction. I’m emptying every drawer looking for anything other than the map with no key or direction, and just when I’m about to give up, I have one more idea. It’s ridiculous and unlikely, but—it’s something.
Feeling along the underside of the wooden desk, I squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for any change in texture beneath my fingertips, and there it is. Along the right edge, I feel the smooth, soft texture of tape before the rough paper it’s attached to. Delicately, I remove the paper, still not daring to open my eyes until I know it’s secure within my grasp, and then…I still don’t look. There would be no reason to put something away like this if it weren’t important, and yet I’m questioning if it will even be something useful to me right now.
One second passes, and then another as I blindly unfold the paper in my hands. Only then do I steal a glance. Its secrets are unfurled before me and I see parchment paper, so thin it’s translucent. Words and numbers are scattered throughout in a seemingly disorganized fashion, and I take memorized steps back to the bed where the map had been discarded earlier.
But it’s not there anymore.
I frantically search everywhere that we had taken it in the house, but no matter how many objects I turn over, I can’t find it, and all I’m left with is my thoughts as I’m roughly pulling on my wild hair.
Think, Silene. Think.
Studying the parchment once more, I figure out where I think I’m starting and take a pen, sketching out what I can remember, attempting to recreate a visual of the path I need to take. I throw the paper back onto the bed and think about how to execute my plan even if it’s not necessarily fully formed. In my head though, one word plays over and over again, and I know where I want to start. If everything must burn, so too must this chapter that helped build the foundation of mine and Ronan’s relationship and the woman I had become.
Everything must burn.
I make quick work of gathering every piece of paper in the house and scattering it down the stairs, and into the living area, but keeping most of it within the upstairs bedroom. Once everything is placed in a way that should easily spread throughout, I grab one of the thick curtains and tear a piece long enough to use as a mask before stepping into the kitchen.
Opening the drawer next to the sink, I grab the old lighter I easily disregarded upon searching the kitchen for weapons the first time around. Then, I walk to the stoves and start the gas on the stove burners but don’t allow the fire to catch. Then, I open the oven, and repeat the process before calmly walking up the stairs for the last time.
As I’m about to light the first piece of paper, I hesitate before walking to the dressers where we kept extra clothing and pull out one of his shirts. I don’t have much time before the smell of gas reaches me, so I bring it with me, light the paper, and lock myself in the tunnels. Not a moment to waste, I take the tunnel directly to the right and run as fast and far as possible before I hear the explosion. The ground shakes beneath my feet as the cobblestones walls crack—small pieces crumbling to the ground around me.
I will my feet to move faster as my breathing becomes labored, but when a rush of thick black smoke pushes past me, I’m thrown to the ground as the force of the explosion catches up to me. Fumes fill my lungs as my vision blurs and coughing overtakes me. Quickly, I remove one of my daggers, tearing the fabric of Ronan’s shirt and tie it around my head, creating a makeshift mask. It hardly helps protect me from the billowing, black smoke that causes my throat, greedy for clean air, to constrict.
Pushing to my feet, I continue. Stumbling through the dark tunnels, guided only by will, when a tingling sensation flows through my veins. Every hair on my arms stands straight up.
I’m being watched.
I almost stop, but I don’t. While hiding in such conditions would be quite easy, surviving—unmoving—would not be.
I must keep moving.
But continuing to walk or run when my throat has been smoldered and my head is light, I wonder if this is the end for me. Have I already failed? Have I succeeded in nothing more than broken promises?
White spots dot across my vision, and as coughing becomes me, I drag my body forward. Further. I crawl, inching myself forward as far as I can go. Propelled by the desire to be more than accidental lies. More than someone who fails every time it matters.
Live. Escape and live.
A desperate cry forces itself out of me as I keep going. Pushing, despite the blindness and inability to breathe.
Live.
And then a body approaches. A silhouette. But my vision is far too hazy to recognize anything other than the blur of it all. Closer and closer the person comes, and I grip the dagger in my hand tightly, ready to swing, but my efforts are futile as my weapon is ripped from my hand. Sure and steady hands grip my wrist, and I fight the best that I can as my body is dragged on the harsh warm ground. Stones tear into my skin as I continue to fight, but soon enough, my body finally gives out as I succumb to the demanding darkness.
* * *
I wake with a start. Heavy metal encases my wrists, and chains rattle around me with my every movement. The sound elicits a groan from me as my head pounds, but I continue pulling and tugging, frantically checking the space around me. I immediately stop at the sight of what lies behind.
Or, in more accurate terms, who sits in wait.
“ I expected more of a fight from you, though your little spectacle was quite entertaining,” he says, a wide smile on his face. He wipes imaginary dirt from his pants legs from where he sits in a chair, not too far from where I’ve been abandoned on the ground. “I was almost worried for a moment.” A dark chuckle escapes him before he slams his palms against his thighs, bringing himself to stand. It’s then that I hear a delicate jingling sound, and my eyes zero in on the keys that dangle loosely from one of his belt loops.
“Miss Dimitriou…it was quite disappointing to hear what you have been up to. You showed such amazing promise and loyalty for such a long time,” he starts, but keeps a short distance between the two of us. I tilt my head to the side, intrigued by where his little spiel is leading.
“You’ve worked for me for two years, have you not? Tell me now, how long have you been whoring yourself out to the men you work with? I knew of your past, to a certain extent. I have to, before bringing anyone onto my staff. And do you know what I thought to myself?” he questions me, exasperation lining his features. He rubs the underside of his jaw as if he’s actively recalling the memory.
“Not particularly, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway,” I respond, feigning disinterest. Truthfully, I was curious. I wanted to know what his thoughts were, just as much as I wanted out of this atrocious smelling cell. His eyes narrow at me as he ticks his jaw and turns his back to me, beginning to walk away.
“I thought, ‘How wonderful it is to have someone so undesirable, that not even her parents cared if she lived or died.’ I just wish I would have had the foresight to see just how troublesome that could be. Was my praise not enough that you had to go and spread your legs to anyone who might pretend to care about you?”
“Oh, careful now. You’re beginning to sound a little jealous. Don’t tell me this is all because you wish it could’ve been you. I’m sorry, Robert, I just prefer my men with a little more passion, more giving, and less…well, less bitchy to put it bluntly.”
He’s in my face faster than I realize, slapping me so hard that I bite my tongue. The tang of blood fills my mouth, and I just smile, allowing it to flow down my chin and drip onto the floor.
“What did I say about being careful? This is like foreplay for me. I didn’t know you had it in you,” I say between bouts of deep laughter. He grips my face, pulling my body closer to his, and I begin to fight against his hold, making him come even closer than he already was.
Good.
“How could some insolent little slut know anything about me and what I’m capable of? How is it that you think my wife died, huh?” he asks, his grip becoming much harsher and his eyes more crazed than I’ve ever seen them. Red circles his murky brown and green eyes and veins protrude from his neck, but my smile pushes back his punishing grip as much as possible. As he loosens his hold, I spit the blood that filled my mouth into his face.
“Insolent or not, at least I’m not dead,” I retort, hoping to slightly throw him off, but it almost intensifies the madness that hides within him.
“Oh, but you will be,” he laughs, as he pushes my face and stands, wiping away the bloody spit as he walks away.
“Will I?”I question, and when a small click sounds out behind him after those two small words, he stops. Slowly, he turns back to me, watching as I push to stand, dangling his keys in my fingers. It’s an unnecessary taunt, but the look of shock and panic on his face is worth it.
I begin walking towards him as he steps back and bangs on the door. The only way out of here.
“What’s wrong, Robert? Can’t get out without these?” Each step toward him has him increasing the distance between us however he can. “Not so tough when I’m not chained down now, are you?” I look down at him from where he stands, studying the man before me.
“I have a question before I kill you,” I state plainly, watching him. He doesn’t show fear, but the caution displayed in his every movement is obvious. “What compelled you to do all of this? Everyone we captured for you, how did they deserve to be hunted like prey? How did anyone we killed for you deserve to die? We looked into it all. Every single person. And no matter how many answers I found, there were always more questions.”
“They were threats to me,” he defends himself, but I just laugh at the blatant lie, already knowing the truth of it all. “You would never understand. When you get ahead, enemies are inevitable.”
“But they weren’t enemies, were they?”
“They were,” he exclaims confidently. His posture is wide and proud, and he appears so sure of what he’s saying. It’s almost convincing, but when you already know the truth, you begin to see through the lies a bit easier.
“We did so much research. Do you know what we found?” He huffs out a deep breath, clearly annoyed by anything I have to offer to this conversation, but waves his hand in a gesture to carry on.
“Tell me what you think you found.”
“We found that they were innocent.”
“No.” A simple smile graces his lips, one of denial, and he clasps his hands together in a show of ending this conversation, but I’m just getting started.
“We found that they were just random people you passed on the street or in the store. One wrong look from them was all it took to solidify their fates. Did you even know their names before you sent the kill orders? Before you sold their organs and body parts off to the highest bidder?” I demand, bringing myself closer to him with each accusatory word.
“You’re wrong,” he says, shaking his head, continuing to back away from me. With each step backwards, his hands pull at each other, and his lips twist with disgust and disbelief.
“No. You’re paranoid and sick in the fucking head!” I declare while storming forward. I jab my finger against his chest, but when he roughly grabs my hand, I let him force me away.
“Your storytelling abilities are lacking just about as much as your intelligence.” He says dismissively.
The door behind us clangs open, and I sharply turn to keep an eye on everyone in the room. Three men enter, eyeing me like I’m a new threat, giving me far more credit than they did the last time we saw each other. For a beat, we all look to and from one another, waiting for someone to make a move, and when someone does, all hell breaks loose. Mr. Delgado slides against the back wall, watching the four of us fight. But as each man falls, another enters the room, and I can’t keep up with who’s alive or dead and how many people there are.
Arms grab me from behind and lock my arms at my sides, I have no other way to fight. And when I feel a sharp pain in the back of my neck accompanied by a tingling sensation, I know that something is very wrong.
“Calm, now. When you wake, you won’t remember a thing. After that, you’ll find yourself a lot more willing to accept this one simple fact,” he says, a sinister smile pulling up his lips. His tongue darts out to lick the area as if he’s savoring the way these words taste.
“You will die.”
“I will not.” I fight back, even as drowsiness threatens me, stealing every last bit of strength I have left.
“Yes, my dear, you will. And, well, it will be quite delightful, really. I must tell you, seeing as you can do nothing about it now. It’s genius, if I do say so myself,” he says, and I fight to keep my eyes open. Blinking rapidly, I meet his gaze as best as I can and throw him a glare that promises death. He only laughs.
“As I’m sure you know, Ronan did not tell me anything, much to my dismay.” He clicks his tongue, disappointment obvious, but there’s something else there that screams satisfaction.“But his brother, well, he was very easy to persuade,” he finishes, looking at me from across the room where I’m still being held back by his men.
“Brother?” I question, my brain fogging, and I wonder if I heard him correctly.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? How very amusing. Well, his brother works here too, but he decided to take me up on my offer to stay here rather than pay for something he was hardly included in. He never could stay away from my daughter which made bargaining very easy,” he says dismissively, somewhat disgusted by the mere thought.
“It was so easy to get him to admit to everything he knew, and find out what he didn’t. He was all too willing when I promised he would survive this all. That the two of them could survive, and that he would get my blessing.” He looks far off as if the memory is fond, and he wants to recall it correctly. “I’m sure he will be slightly confused when he wakes without memories in the same situation as the rest of you,” he finishes, ready to leave the room before holding up a finger and turning back around.
“I almost forgot about the best part. Oh, this is so good, how could it slip my mind?” he chuckles, walking back over to me and grabbing a strand of my hair and tugging on it.
“He thought he got Adonis to help. I was almost impressed by the young lad, but Adonis…well, he duped us, to put it simply.” I expected some sort of animosity to follow his words, but I’m wrong. He almost seems gleeful at the idea of another betrayal, and despite the darkness creeping into my vision and my legs wanting to give out from underneath me, I force myself to stay conscious through the punishing grips of the hands on my arms and wrists. “For his act of a secondary betrayal, he gets a punishment far worse.”
Realization dawns on me as I understand what he means. The more he’s betrayed or lied to, the harsher our punishments will be.
“He won’t die until after his wife does. Poor Iris, she’s already there. The place that you’ll go. Fighting much harder than I thought she would. I presume that may have to do with the fact that her memories weren’t stolen from her. I do wonder what she’ll do when the lot of you arrive. I wonder if she’ll even be alive by then. I’ve given careful orders to make sure he doesn’t die before seeing her lifeless body, though. Only then will she be brought back to serve a different purpose. She’ll die, he won’t remember who she was to him, then he’ll die and I’ll have enough organs to sell to last me long enough to rebuild my agency. Everyone will get their punishments in due time, Silene, and I’ll get some wonderful entertainment for the time being.”
“What is wrong with you? You know how insane you sound, right?” I question, though it’s hardly anymore than a disbelieving whisper.
“ You are the one that set out to kill me. You did nothing but bring this on yourself. You didn’t really think you would get away with it, did you?” he inquires, tilting his head down at me.
“Wait!” I yell, but it sounds more like a whisper as it leaves my lips.
“Sleep now, child. You’ll need the rest,” he says, and as darkness invades every one of my senses, I watch him leave me alone in the cell.