Chapter 21
Damien
The Next Day
‘I Will Not Bow’ – Breaking Benjamin
A fierce slap across my face jolts me awake, and before I can register what’s happening, my arms are being pulled above my head.
I yell out as my joints roll with so much friction, I think they might snap.
My arms have been behind my back for the majority of a week now, from what Victoria said, and now the sudden movement is excruciating.
It gets even worse as I’m lifted off the chair, and my body stretches out like it was last night.
Except then, I was lying across and strapped to a table. I’m free-hanging now.
I can’t tell if I’m still dizzy from the multiple shocks, the drugs, or if they’re actually swinging me with whatever is holding me above ground.
From the feeling of cold metal along my fingertips, I’m assuming it’s a chain.
There’s a slight chill to my body, almost as if the blood is trying to rush to the places I need it most, and the rush makes my head feel even more weightless.
“You look a little tired, feccia. Even after all of the rest I’ve let you have.”
I huff and finally lift my head to see that vile bitch staring up at me. DeLuca looks as frigid as ever, and her sharp features only make her look more villainous. I’m almost convinced that half of her face is plastic. Her high cheek bones are much too young for her face.
“How kind of you…” I force out.
“And I’m about to be even nicer. You poor thing, you’re disgusting.
All of that sweat is caked onto your skin.
I believe it’s time for your shower,” DeLuca taunts.
I glance over at Victoria, and she’s back to that void look, like all of the fire I saw in her eyes wasn’t real.
I saw Henry. He was as real as he was the day he died.
Did I imagine our interaction, too? I can’t be sure, but I won’t be able to figure it out right now anyway.
Suddenly, an ice-cold spray assaults my back, and I can’t help but shiver.
It’s constant, like a hydrant is spewing from the side and I’m in the way.
The water beats against my back and moves up and down my body at a torturous pace.
I’m soaked from head to toe in a matter of seconds, and as it strikes against my body, I can feel the freezing punch all the way to my bones.
DeLuca snaps her boney fingers, and the water cuts off.
There’s a moment of reprieve, and then the cold only seeps in further. My body tenses up from the shock.
DeLuca runs her manicured hands over my chest, and it makes my skin crawl.
Once she slides her hand up to my tattoo and starts to trace the letters of Ashia’s name, I thrash again.
It’s not because it hurts, even though it does.
That bitch shouldn’t be able to defile my wife’s name with her wicked touch.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on her. From the video I saw, she was just as fun to play with as you are,” DeLuca taunts, and my blood runs even colder.
This bitch must have a death wish to threaten my wife.
My heart hammers in my chest, because I know that if DeLuca were to go after Ashia right now, there’s nothing I could do to stop her.
She must see the fear on my face, because a sadistic grin creeps onto her features.
“She really is the key to breaking you, isn’t she?
You and your father are alike in that regard.
While your mother was entertaining, watching your father tear through cities to find her was even better.
I’m not surprised your wife is doing the same. ”
“Leave my wife out of this! It has nothing to do with her!” I shout, and the words feel like blades scraping against my vocal cords. She grins even wider and then nibbles on her bottom lip.
“You’re right. Your wife doesn’t matter to me—not in the slightest. However, she means everything to you.
Therefore, she’s the perfect weapon.” She points the remote at that fucking screen, and just when I think I know what I’m going to see, she proves me wrong.
It’s still the feed from Sette’s scope, but my wife is not where she should be.
What happened before better have been real, because I’m putting all of my faith in that as I look over to Victoria.
I’m sure to make it brief, just long enough to confirm if it’s live or not, and she blinks once.
Only once. I take that as a ‘yes’ and look back to the screen.
The muscles in my chest ease the moment I see her.
It’s bittersweet. The relief of seeing her alive is crippling, but noticing the hardness on her features is heartbreaking.
She’s standing in the middle of my men, tall and true like the queen she is.
Who I think is Daisy sits directly to her left as she watches a building burn before her.
A bullet-proof vest covers what I know is one of my shirts, and even though the vest covers it completely, I can faintly make out the shape of her belly beneath it.
Her face looks sunken, like there hasn’t been a graze of a smile on her face in days.
She stares into the fire like it’s caught her in a wicked dance.
Anger and sadness align her features, and I just want to take it all away.
This heartbreak isn’t good for her. I need to scoop her into my arms and take her somewhere we can never be found again.
We could go back to the lake. We could buy a small home and raise our baby in peace.
Then, I’d never have to see that dying light in her eyes.
“The poor thing,” DeLuca taunts. “How does it make you feel, feccia? Knowing that you’re turning your wife into a monster?
” She scrapes a knife off the nearby table and runs it down my chest. “That building in the video? It’s a realtor’s office.
It was smart on their part, to look for buildings listed under Victoria’s name.
However, Alessio and I are not so stupid.
She may find traces of Fedor, maybe still from Dranan, but that search will lead her nowhere.
Those poor people had no idea what they were involved in.
But they paid the price anyway, didn’t they? ”
I shiver at the thought. My sweet wife is reaching into the darkest parts of herself to try and find me.
I’ve seen Ashia in action when she was too heightened to notice it herself, and she’s just as cruel as I am.
Granted, her first kill was the worst out of the others, but it broke something inside her to commit it.
I remember the fear in her eyes. The only thing she was scared of in that moment was herself, and it breaks my heart to think she’ll feel that way again.
She’s willingly destroying herself to bring me home, and I’d rather die than watch her crumble.
“It’s intriguing to watch. It’s marvelous.
In this line of work, I’ve seen some interesting things.
Normally, when a loved one is taken, the families do one of two things.
They sit around a phone and wait for a demand, or they stand by and watch the useless police force post flyers and web articles.
Families don’t reach past the extent that is expected of them.
But her? Your father? You? You are all truly special, feccia.
It’s what makes you so intriguing. What do you think of his wife, Direttrice?
” DeLuca turns her attention to Victoria, and she looks back at her with that emotionless gaze.
“She’s magnificent. Completely broken. It seems the only thing that’s left of her is anger,” Victoria agrees with the flattest of tones, but when DeLuca looks back to me, I catch the smallest glimpse of remorse in Victoria’s eyes.
“I’m not much for feelings, but I would be lying if I said your wife’s despair didn’t affect me a little.
Her screams were delicious.” DeLuca points to the screen once again and clicks to a different video.
This one is obviously old. Ashia’s standing on our back porch next to Serena, and her phone is up to her ear.
A tear falls from her swollen eyes, and as she pulls the phone away, I can see the heartbreak on her face.
It twists with anguish before she takes a deep breath in, only to let out the most agonizing scream I’ve ever witnessed.
Her face is contorted with pain, and her neck is so taut with the strain that I’m afraid she’s pulling a muscle.
The phone drops from her hands, and my heart falls along with it.
A new agony takes over, and my chest pulls even tighter than the chains are forcing it to.
“It’s touching, really, how much she needs you. Does it hurt your heart to know that this is all your fault? If she never met you, she would’ve never had to feel this pain. I mean, look at her.” DeLuca points to the screen again.
Correct…
I faintly hear the voices in the back of my mind.
It’s not true. I love my wife. All I wanted was to give her the life she deserves—to adore her in the way she needs.
Even now, after months of tragedy, our connection has never wavered.
Her fire needed to breathe, and I did everything to ensure that it would.
Painful…
Her worst fears have come to life, and I can’t help but be a selfish prick. I just want her to know that I didn’t do this. It wasn’t my choice to leave her. I promised to be by her side forever, and she has to know that I meant it—that I mean it still.
Lonely…
As I watch my wife crumble, everything I have built topples over with her.
DeLuca’s point is proven right in front of my eyes, and I feel disgusting.
Ashia’s light shines the brightest when she’s truly herself, and she’s herself when she’s with me.
The space that I provide for her is where she feels safest, and now that’s been taken away.
In a flash, I’ve allowed her to become vulnerable again.
“I just remain a victim. You taught me better than that, but I wasn’t strong enough,” her voice echoes next.
I only live to serve her, but all I’ve done is drag her down with me.
I’m not worth the ground she falls to. I am undeserving of her love and her loyalty.
She’s dependent on me, just like I wanted her to be, and now I’m forced to watch her decompose in my absence.
I’m reduced to nothing. I’m not a man. I’m not a husband. I’m not a father.
I’m a monster.
Unworthy…
God, what have I done?
“She looks worse now than she did here.” She then clicks the remote again, and the video changes to another time. A time when I was at my lowest has jumped from my mind and come back to haunt me—the worst day of my life. My wife hangs from that rope, and Hugo’s voice starts to play.
“Where the fuck did you get that?” I choke out and swallow harshly.
I shouldn’t let her see how much Ashia’s anguish is affecting me, but I just can’t fucking help it.
I’m being torn apart, and the tautness in my throat and throughout my body is only making that clearer.
My soul is clawing at itself as punishment for making her feel this way.
“You’re not stupid, feccia. It was you and your organization that knew we were working together. Did you really think we would miss this? The moment I saw you in that field, I knew I wanted everything there was to do with you. I’m just glad I can use it against you.”
I tear my gaze away and look down, only for a firm hand to force me to look back. My hair rips as Cinque pulls it, sending little shocks through the back of my head. DeLuca walks back over to her godforsaken table and picks up another prod, but this one looks a little different.
“You were truly mesmerizing that day at that abandoned farmhouse. Your father taught you well. Your skills are impeccable. Then, seeing you storm this warehouse to obtain Dranan? Exquisite. It was cute, watching you attempt to give your own life for her. Foolish, but adorable, nonetheless.” She clicks a button on her stick, and I see the end immediately start to glow orange.
“I wonder if you can hold your screams for as long as she did.”
She pushes the probe onto my abdomen, and the water starts again at the same time. I grit my teeth and ball up my fists, trying to take the pain. I deserve it. Every shock. Every burn. Every tremor caused by the cold—I’ve earned it.
Her face inches closer.
“I wonder if you’re really as tough as they say you are,” she taunts.
The smell of burning flesh and chlorine fills the air, and I glare down at her through the agony.
There are a thousand emotions behind my eyes.
Hatred. Anguish. Desperation. A silent vow that I will be the last thing she sees before she dies, and her soul will be the ultimate prize.
I’ll display it beside my own and present them as an offering to my wife.
A gift in exchange for her forgiveness. A promise of my devotion.
DeLuca glares back at me like she accepts my challenge, and something inside me cowers.
“Turn the volume up, Direttrice.”
Without question, Victoria does what she says, and Ashia’s whimpers fill the room as the burning starts again.