Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Kieran
T he look on Ada’s face isn’t one that I’m going to be able to forget anytime soon.
Shock and horror I was expecting, even the dread seemed to make sense, but there was something else there, something almost desperate hiding underneath the rest. I shouldn’t want to test those emotions as badly as I do.
I can’t help but wonder where her limits might truly lie.
I have the luxury of time on my side, and part of me wants to go back up there to see just what other emotions I might coax across her pretty little face while I’ve got her wholly and utterly at my mercy. She’s the siren luring all my darkest cravings, and I’m her cruel mariner.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Perfect, just the distraction that I need to keep focused.
I’m here.
Just a single text message from Liam, my cousin. I glance at the time, he’s a little early, but much better than the alternative.
The hideout that I’ve chosen is an old, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Boston. Appealing simply because of the thick concrete walls and easily defensible entrances and exits. Someplace that nobody will look too closely at. Privacy is of the utmost importance for this sort of operation.
I haven’t put much effort into making this place comfortable, as that’s not an important part of this plan. The home that Cristiano forced me out of had all of my earthly possessions, and I had been left with no choice than to flee and never return to what’s left of it.
My current layout is filled with more tech than anything else. Wall to wall security and everything else that could possibly be needed to ensure that Ada will not be getting out of here without my permission. She’s far too important for the success of my plan.
I don’t bother attempting to clean up the makeshift living area that I’ve laid out in one of the larger rooms before heading to the door to let Liam in. The room that I have Ada in is definitely not the sort of luxury that she’s accustomed to, but the rest of my safe house isn’t going to appeal to her much more than her little prison.
I open the door to find Liam with an arm full of take-out containers. The aroma of various cuisines hits me like a truck. How long has it been since the last time I’ve eaten? Far too long. Single minded focus and drive has always been one of my weaker points.
Liam stands nearly the same height as myself, a solid six foot two. But, I have at least thirty pounds of muscle on him. Sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes and a boyish grin that dimples on the left side, he’s got the boyish charm down to perfection. Paired with his innate fashion sense, he’s usually the one who draws attention in every gathering that we’ve attended together. He’s been trying to get me to ditch the all-black wardrobe for some time. Though, with my position as a Reaper for his family, it’s a fitting uniform.
“I thought you were going to make me hunt for this place forever,” Liam says as I close the door behind him. He takes off his shoes out of habit and then eyes the bare concrete of the floor. I can see the gears turning in his head, debating as to whether or not he should put them back on to spare his socks.
I simply take things from his hands and head into the industrial style kitchenette and start to unpackage the various items.
“If this is supposed to be a housewarming party for you, cousin, I have to say that it’s really rather sad.” Liam says teasingly as he swipes a finger across an exposed beam and makes a face.
“It’s functional, it doesn’t need to be anything else,” I say with an eye roll.
“Still… how the mighty have fallen.” Liam continues.
To anybody else, his dry tone might seem like an insult, but I know better. I know that he doesn’t actually mean anything by his words. He’s one of the only people that I’ve ever met who can brazenly say the most off handed things without meaning to offend anyone around him. For somebody who was raised, like me, to someday become the head of his clan, he’s painfully socially unbothered.
Oddly, it’s what makes me like him so much.
“If the mighty hadn’t fallen, cousin, I never would have been stuck dealing with your sorry ass as much as I have been.” I remark, plucking up a crab Rangoon and popping it into my mouth without bothering to offer him anything.
“I regret helping you every day. Today, more than most.” Liam says as he looks around the high vaulted ceilings and the way some of the glass panels of the far wall are patched with tarp and duct tape.
“Such a charmer. Seriously, how do people not just fall at your feet?”
“They do, I just have to trip them first,” Liam says with a grin before finally coming to stand with me in the kitchen. He slides onto the cracked leather of the round barstool and slips his hands into his pockets. “So, are you going to tell me why I’ve driven out into the boonies and been subjected to squalor?”
I sigh pointedly and start to portion a little bit of everything onto an oblong plate.
“Suddenly decided to become a foodie?” Liam says with his characteristic smirk.
“No,” I sigh, closing my eyes. I know how he’s going to tease me for what I say next. “I panicked. I didn’t know what she would like, so I covered all of my bases.”
Liam swallows back at least a dozen sarcastic remarks. “Perhaps use your own card to impulse order next time then?”
“Why would I do that?”
I start to seal up the containers and search for one of those little plastic forks in one of the bags.
“You’re seriously going to leave it at that, cousin?” Liam asks me. I can feel his expectant gaze locked on my forehead as I toil around the kitchen bar. “Not even a hint of your grand master plan?”
I glance at him from under my brow. Of course I’m not going to tell him anything. Cousin or not, you don’t grow up in a clan thinking that your family can be wholly trusted.
Liam hasn’t ever personally done anything to make me distrust him, but one can never be too careful. I’m family, yes, but my father’s clan was far larger than the one led Liam’s father, Patrick. I can’t risk his father learning even the smallest bit of my plan, or where I’m currently residing. He was kind enough to ‘take me in’ after my father’s death. But he’s made me work for his so-called generosity every day since.
Telling Liam my plans, even to enlist his help, would be running a risk that I just can’t afford to take.
Liam sighed and fluidly rolled off of the stool before lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I can take a hint, cousin!”
He starts to head for the door, but not before throwing the final word in my direction. “You and your brutal ways.”
I wait until Liam’s car pulls away entirely before locking and arming the house again and heading back up to Ada.
Behind where she’s tied, there is a small table to go with the small metal chair she’s sitting on.
The sinking afternoon sun has removed all natural light from the room and the dim bulb casts long shadows around the space, making it seem smaller than it did before. A veritable prison cell instead of a proper bedroom. But, until I know where we stand and how easily she’s going to be manipulated, I can’t allow her any other comforts than this.
I don’t speak to her as I bring the food to the table and lay everything out for her. I pick her up, chair and all, and position her at the table in front of the plate.
“The door is locked, before you get any wise ideas.” I warn her plainly before undoing the ties on her wrists. She instantly brings her hands in front of her, massaging the raw skin as best as she can. She glares at me, pure defiance burning in her eyes. But she doesn’t move for the food.
She’s got to be hungry. She’s already been here a very long time.
I lean against the wall, watching her refuse to touch anything, including the bottle of water on the table.
“It’s not poisoned, you can eat it.” I wait, and she still doesn’t move. I pick up a broccoli and eat it to prove that I’m not trying to poison her.
Honestly, it's a little rude to imply that I would do such a thing. As a murderer by profession, poison is the least creative way that a person can be killed. “Eat, Ada.”
Those perfect blue eyes lift up to me, sparking with fire.
“Do you need me to force feed you? Or, were you never taught to feed yourself?” I ask with an arched eyebrow. I lean closer, keeping eye contact as I speak in a tone that I know is menacing. “Eat.”
Ada’s nose crinkles in irritation, but she knows better than to push me any further. Her resolve wavers and she finally grabs the fork, pushing at the food on the plate. I’m half expecting her to turn up her pert nose for not getting her some five course meal. Well, she’s just going to have to get over the fact that my personal five-star chef isn’t available today. I’m sorely tempted to say as much in as snarky of a tone as I can manage, but it will not help me get me any closer to my goals.
I’ve planned this out for far too long to let my emotions get the better of me now.
Ada eats like everything that touches her tongue is ash and dirt. Her nose wrinkles and she takes the smallest bites I’ve ever seen somebody make. Her hands are trembling. Though, if it’s disgust for the meal or fear of me, I can’t quite tell.
She manages to make a small dent in her meal, and I’m just about to call her out on being difficult when she turns and attempts to bolt out of her chair. The chair goes toppling with her, and she scrambles anyway for the bucket that I left here in the room for her. I quickly untie her ankles, ready to drag her right back into the chair but she starts heaving everything she ate right back up into that bucket.
It’s not an allergic reaction. It’s not her being dramatic. Ada heaves until there’s nothing left in her body. It’s not a cry for attention or any other nonsense tactic to be dramatic or attempt to have the upper hand. There was sweat along her forehead, the convulsions that wracked her when there was nothing left but stomach acid had to be incredibly painful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it in person before.
Out of reflex, I move forward and push her hair back and away from her face. The sounds of her retching echo in the small, desolate space, mingling with her muffled sobs. All I can do is rub soft circles into the small of her back and wait for it to pass. Whatever it is, her body flinches at my touch.
When she finally stops, she remains hunched over the bucket, gasping for air. Her body shakes and trembles with what I have to guess is exhaustion. I want so badly to ask her what that was all about. Morbid curiosity tinged with a hint of genuine concern for this woman that I realistically should not have any feelings for whatsoever.
Before I can ask, Ada finally summons the strength to move, and slaps my hands away from her. She glares at me, her eyes blazing with fury and humiliation.
“Are you happy now, you fuck?!” She spits, her voice hoarse from how raw her throat must be.
Something unfamiliar, guilt perhaps, flares in my gut as I fall back unceremoniously on my ass. This wasn’t how I imagined any of this going. Not in the slightest. I expected defiance, resistance, but not… this.
The sight of her so defeated and vulnerable stirs something uncomfortable inside me. Something that feels a hell of a lot like doubt of my methods. For just a moment, only a fleeting second, I almost want to be sick right along with her.