Chapter Eight - Elise
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elise
His silence is all the confirmation I need.
I stand, pushing the chair into the drawers behind me.
“You’re such a sick bastard! What’s the point of all of this, then?” I gesture to the medical equipment. “Why waste time patching me up if I’m a dead woman walking?” I don’t think about what I’m saying. I just let the words spill out of my mouth.
I stride across the room, holding my arms out in a wide, dramatic gesture.
“Why wait at all? Just do it now and get it over with! Go ahead. Shoot me right here, you coward,” I spit.
His loud huff is the signal that my temper tantrum is over.
I take hesitant steps back as he approaches me until I run into the dresser. My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and as soon as he’s close enough, I grab the red elephant statue and swing to hit him over the head with it.
Lightning reflexes grab my hand before I can make contact with his skull.
He grips my wrist and twists, turning me around and holding me tight against his front. My arms curve painfully behind me in his steel hold. The statue falls from my hand and lands on the floor mere inches from crushing my bare foot.
Thrashing against him, I wiggle an arm free and swing it back, elbow connecting with his cheekbone. He groans, and I feel victorious for all five seconds because that’s when I hear the distinct shing of a blade. I freeze, feeling cool metal pressing against my throat.
He holds my wrists in one hand, and his lips find my ear. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
The blade digs in deeper. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like it when I hurt you since you insist on testing my patience every time we meet.”
I shake my head in a small motion, too afraid to speak.
“No? That’s not what you want?”
I whimper, and he moves the blade from my throat, quickly slicing it across my upper arm. I cry out, but the sting of pain never comes, and I realize he ran the dull end over my skin in warning. He returns the blade to my throat.
“I can’t hear you, Princess.”
“No,” I manage in a trembling whisper.
“Good girl. Take a seat. Now,” he commands, removing the blade and stepping away from me.
My movements are slow, giving him no reason to use the knife again as I take my place in the chair.
I wince but don’t resist when he grabs my wrists and pulls them behind my back. I even hold them still as he removes his belt again to restrain me.
“And I just spent time treating your wrists,” he mutters.
As he secures the binds, my body realizes just how tired it is. With the adrenaline rush wearing off, my muscles ache, and my eyelids grow heavy.
Clearing his throat, Moreno comes to stand in front of me, knife still in hand.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he states. “You’re going to keep that mouth shut. I’ll treat your wounds and explain some of what’s going on since you can’t seem to put it together on your own. Do you understand?”
I nod sluggishly.
He narrows his eyes. “I asked you a question. Do. You. Understand?”
My brain tells me to curse him or spit on him, anything but obey him. However, my body’s argument to comply is much more convincing. I can barely function as it is. I can’t handle any more of his wrath.
“I understand.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, and for some reason, I get the feeling that he’s just as much shaken by this situation as I am.
“Four years ago, Mason reached out for a meeting. It’s not every day that your biggest rival’s son wants to have a chat, so I was wary.” He kneels as he talks, sorting through the first-aid kit and tending to the cuts on my legs.
“I was sure it was going to be an ambush, so I came prepared, but he really did just want to talk. He had some very bold opinions about your father and how he runs your family. Mason knew that even if he killed your dad, one of your older brothers would just take over. So, instead of killing his family to rise to power, he joined me here.”
My stomach rolls at the idea of Mason debating killing our family. He is not the man I thought he was.
“I didn’t believe him right away, but I was interested, so we made a deal. He’d feed me intel for as long as I deemed fit, and if he proved himself loyal, he’d join me.”
Once I’m all bandaged up, Moreno takes a seat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “A year passed, and your brother proved himself, but I decided he needed to stay with your father where he was most useful to me.”
“Recently, I’ve been working to expand my territory, but your father has claims in areas that make my expansion impossible.
Mason proposed the idea of blackmail, but you Consolis have a reputation for refusing to negotiate.
That’s when Mason told me about you. Had we taken one of your brothers, your father likely would’ve let them die.
But you?” There’s a dark yet admirable glint in his eyes as he regards me.
“Your father would do anything to protect you, which makes you my golden hostage.”
“What makes you think he won’t just let me die, too?”
“I’ve spoken to him myself. He’s quite anxious to get you back.”
My heart clenches at the words. Of course, I want my father to save me, but at what cost? I open my mouth to ask more questions, but a stern glance stops me.
“No more interruptions, or I’m going to gag you.” His words are matter-of-fact, but they still send a shiver down my spine.
“Everything was going perfectly. I had you, your father was desperate to get you back… and then you pulled that stunt in my office.” His eyes narrow, but it’s not in anger. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s disappointment. “Well, that complicated things.”
“As I said, I’ve worked toward this expansion for years. Those territories open up a lot of doors for me, and this is the closest I’ve ever been to getting them.” He pauses, watching my guarded expression as he goes on.
“If I kill you now, I won’t get my expansion. If I give you back, you tell your father what you’ve learned, and I lose my biggest asset. As of right now, I don’t have a damn clue what I’m going to do with you.”
I feel minimal relief at his words.
He scans my trembling body. “Go ahead.”
“Why tell me at all? Why not just keep me in the dark until it’s safe to put a bullet in my head?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t originally intend to kill you. I figure the least I can do is be honest. It’s nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal? This is my life we’re talking about. How can killing me not be personal?” My voice rises, but even I hear how broken it sounds.
He raises an eyebrow as if to ask are you done?, and I sigh. “What now? Are you just going to keep beating me and patching me up until it’s time to kill me?”
“As of right now, I don’t plan to hurt you unless you give me a reason to, but don’t be mistaken. I will hurt you if you continue to push me like you have. I can make these cuts and bruises look like a spa day if necessary.”
“So, you’re just going to keep me here as bait for my father, and I’m just supposed to sit back, relax, and let you put a bullet in my head when I’ve served my purpose?”
Flashing me a humorless smile, he gestures to his cheek where, to my pleasant surprise, a light bruise is forming where my elbow made contact. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you won’t be doing any sitting back and relaxing.”
He crouches down in front of me.
“I don’t blame you, but let’s be realistic here. If you’re going to die either way, why fight me? You can have nice food and a nice room, and I’ll even allow you to visit the garden once a day if you’d like. You don’t have to be miserable.”
“Why do you care if I’m miserable?” My words are carefully curious, not rude. “So far, you’ve had no problem putting me through hell, and if you’re just going to kill me anyway, why does it matter?”
It doesn’t make sense. Obviously, I don’t want to be left here and ignored until my death day, but his offer is almost worse. I can wrap my brain around an utter lack of care for my life. His concern, on the other hand, is too confusing, especially when it’s only half-hearted.
He cares enough that he doesn’t want me to be miserable, but not enough to save my life.
Slowly, he shakes his head and stands. With his back facing me, he walks the room leisurely, one hand pinching the spot between his eyes.
“One thing is for sure.” He turns to meet my gaze. “We can’t keep doing this. You can’t handle any more abuse, and I can’t fight you every time I step foot in this room. I have too much going on.”
I keep my voice surprisingly calm. “I won’t just roll over and die. I can’t.”
“Again, you’ve made that clear. However, if this is how you intend all our interactions to go, I’ll be forced to leave you as you are now.”
My wrists throb at the thought of remaining secured indefinitely.
“But I assume that’s not too comfortable, so I’m willing to offer you a deal.”
I raise a weary eyebrow. “What kind of deal?”
“Well, that’s up for negotiation.”
“I assume freedom is off the table.”
He takes a deep breath and walks behind me, untying my wrists. As I massage each one, I can feel his breath skating over the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“Not all freedom.”