Chapter 10
Madelene
Most people can’t say they’ve ever experienced a gag in their mouth, a hood over their head, while their hands were tied behind their backs. I don’t know of anyone who has had to experience it more than once, but this isn’t exactly a new situation for me.
The Severino boys are sick fucks. Sensory games are one of their favorite pastimes. The difference is, with experience, I know what to expect from them. I know the lengths they’ll go to, and I know what they won’t do, which honestly isn’t much, but it’s one thing I’m very afraid will happen now.
I don’t know when I become the girl that who considered at least it won’t be that, but it feels silly now as I imagine this man will do whatever the hell he pleases.
More so now than ever before, the situation makes me think back to the first time this happened, but Elio isn’t here to assure me everything will be okay with the warmth of his body against mine. I tilt my head to the side but it doesn’t prevent the memories slamming back into me.
Her screams.
The burn in my eyes.
The way Elio yelled and begged because he wasn’t blindfolded like I was.
Despite sitting in a truck as it drives me to God only knows where, it mimics the way Elio wiggled against his restraints as he begged the boy he thought was his best friend to stop hurting Maya.
He learned quickly the more he pleaded, the worse it was for her.
Eventually he calmed down, the shuddering way he was breathing making it clear he wasn’t happy about what he was being forced to witness.
Maya wasn’t able to stay quiet, but I don’t imagine anyone would be able to go through what Marcello was doing to her body.
Elio turned seventeen three months prior, and I know he spent his birthday the same way Marcello spent his that night.
He never talked about it, never bragged about what was expected of him.
He was never the same after that night, and maybe that’s why Marcello picked who he did.
Maybe he noticed some sort of weakness in my brother.
Maybe this was to punish both him and Maya for her obsession with my brother.
He didn’t want Maya or the attention, but Marcello somehow saw it as a slap in the face for her not to feel that way about him.
The expectation my brother had from the Severino family was too much for him, but he realized it much too late.
He idolized Alessio, both he and Marcello following the older Severino brother around every chance they got.
Elio committed fully to the physical training expected of him.
Although my mom wasn’t exactly happy about it, I think she felt a certain kind of confidence in how close her son was to the heirs of the family.
She must’ve thought they provided a certain level of protection. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
I have no idea what was going on in Elio’s head the night he decided that driving his car off the cliff was his only choice.
I don’t know if it was threats coming from the Severinos or if it was his own guilt over what he did or what happened to Maya, but he never hit the brakes.
Marcello taunted me with that information as often as he could.
“He couldn’t wait to leave you alone with us,” he said.
It all comes back in rapid succession—the phone call, the way my mother fell to her knees, the single tear falling down my father’s cheek, the closed casket memorial, my mother’s declining health, the refusal of the bank to give my father access to my mother’s inheritance after her death, the way the Severinos kicked in our front door, the promise my father made to save his own life.
“Please,” I beg against the gag in my mouth but the word isn’t discernible.
I don’t know what I’m pleading for. I want to be released. I want these memories to be forgotten. I want my life to be different.
I’d give anything to have been born a different person.
I’d give up the laughs I had with Elio just to avoid the pain that came later.
I’d give up my smiling mother from my childhood in order to not have to suffer through watching her take her last breath.
I’d give up the money and wealth to avoid what will happen at Alessio’s hands once this man is done with me.
I know how men assert their power.
I’d be a fool to think the man who abducted me won’t utilize that weapon against me.
I should be terrified of it. The threat of it from Marcello sure made me want to curl into a ball, but most of my fear stems from what will happen after I’m returned. Death would be easier, I’m almost certain.
I didn’t mention him earlier after the meeting Alessio had with Raul. I nodded and confirmed the crude sketch of the blond man mere seconds after seeing the man who killed Marcello, fifteen feet away, in a different booth, in the restaurant the meeting took place in.
I let myself imagine that he was one of my father’s men, that I got it wrong, thinking he was a gun for hire under contract with Alessio.
He’s here for vengeance. He made that clear days ago when he killed my tormentor. He’s not here to rescue me. He hated me on sight. I concluded that with just the way he looked at me.
Tears tease my cheeks, tickling my face as they fall, but I have no way to wipe them away. It’s an unintentional part of this man’s torture.
The vehicle travels for a lot longer than I imagined it would.
I don’t know many people who are brave enough to drive anywhere with someone in the passenger seat with a bag over their head, but it makes me think this man is just as dangerous, if not more dangerous than Marcello, who was too narcissistic to think he’d ever get into trouble while hurting people.
It was proven wrong that he wasn’t as indestructible as he lead himself to believe.
My shoulders are screaming out in pain, and I grow more fearful as we travel.
The rev of the engine tells me he’s driving too fast, and as a captive, he didn’t bother putting the seatbelt on me.
My breathing grows rapid, the humidity of my breath making sweat drops co-mingle with my tears.
I just know we’re going to get into a wreck.
I’ll end up dead after flying through the windshield.
My trembling tells me that no matter how little, there’s still an urgency to live inside of me.
That will either help me later or complicate things further, but I don’t have time to consider which as he slams on the breaks, my worst nightmare coming through.
His arm sweeps out, pressing against my chest before I can slam my head on the dash.
He grumbles under his breath a second before his door opens and then almost as quickly slams closed again.
I hear nothing other than my own terrified, ragged breathing.
I try to move away when my door is ripped open, but his hands are too fast. I’m pulled from the truck, my legs buckling under me.
He doesn’t stop me from falling this time, and I scream out in pain as my knees crash to the ground.
I hate Alessio for insisting that I wear dresses.
It will do nothing to help slow down this man’s attack.
Instead of him pushing me to my back, he wrenches me up by my clasped hands, and it hurts so much, I imagine I’d have the ability to walk on water just to get away from him.
I beg once again before I can stop myself, but the words are just as garbled against the gag as they were before. I feel defeated already. I imagined being stronger than this, but I know better. I always ended up begging when Alessio or Marcello were hurting me.
“Walk,” he says, shoving at my back.
There are no sirens, no cop cars driving up to rescue me. Once again my breathing is all I can hear as I take a cautious step forward. The heel of my shoe sinks into soft dirt, but the man doesn’t care that it’s difficult for me to walk as he urges me forward again.
I don’t want to anger him though I doubt complying will help me in the long run. I kick off my shoes, wincing at the ground cutting into my feet.
Slowly the sound of water hits my ears, making my stumbling steps even slower.
I never once considered drowning as either punishment or the way I’ll die.
I mean, I fully expected to be found floating in Lake Michigan because that’s the Severinos’ favorite place to dump their victims, but I never imagined it being the weapon they’d use.
I freeze but have to keep moving as I’m shoved roughly at the back.
“Keep fucking going,” he growls, but he prevents me from falling when I twist my ankle on a rock.
I wince at the pain shooting up my leg as I take more steps. My toes sink into soft mud with one step. The next takes me to the water’s edge. I’m not a terrible swimmer, but I doubt I could even tread water with my arms behind my back. It never occurred to me to try.
“Swear to fucking God,” he hisses with another shove to my back.
Despite my fear of imminent death, the water never gets higher than the middle of my thigh. He keeps me from sinking down once more, and I can’t tell if I’m thrilled he doesn’t plan to drown me or terrified of all the other things he’d be capable of doing with me alive.
Vegetation and prickly plants scratch at my shins and calves as we make our way on to land once again. It feels like cat claws swiping out at me, and it’s a sort of torture on its own.
He’s not gentle when he shoves me into the passenger seat of another vehicle. This one is different. The seat doesn’t feel the same under me, and the smell inside, although not unpleasant, isn’t the same.
How closer is Monterrey to Texas? Did we just wade across the bordering river?
I can’t even remember the damn name of it.
Geography was never my strong suit, and I’m regretting paying more attention to boys in class than the teacher.
Not that it would make any damn difference where he has me right now in the long run.
We don’t drive long, not even a fraction of the time we spent in the first vehicle, but I’m a nervous wreck when he slows and turns. I’m shaking when he climbs out. I’m trembling when he pulls open my door. I beg again, but my pleas go unanswered as I’m pulled from the vehicle.
I want to drop my weight to the ground but he shoves me up a few stairs. Is this his house? Is it a warehouse? Is he going to sell me back to the Severinos? Is he going to seek vengeance on me for that Ellie girl?
My worst fears hit me in the chest when I’m shoved forward and I land on soft bedding.
He may kill me. He may return me beaten and battered to Alessio, but the man is going to rape me first.
For some fucked-up reason, that’s worse than anything else. If he does do it, I pray he kills me, because it will only be saving Alessio the trouble.
I have no reason to think he won’t. He’s already gone up against the Severino family.
His single bullet started a war. It means he’s just as dangerous if not more than the family I was promised to.
My value, the family’s desire to get me back, has nothing to do with the money promised.
At this point, I’m going to be a sign of disrespect.
They’ll look for me, but they won’t really care what condition they find me in. Their vengeance won’t be my vengeance.
I’ve heard the stories. Marcello and Alessio bragged about what they’ve done. I’ve bared witness to their brutality. This man is hurting from what happened to Ellie Baker. His vengeance is going to be much worse.