23. Mila
23
MILA
I had planned on staying in my room the entire day.
That had lasted until about three o’clock in the afternoon when my stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything.
I hadn’t touched the breakfast Rachel brought me this morning, trying to punish the brothers in some twisted way, but I was only punishing myself.
I needed to eat.
I needed my strength to fight with them, especially to keep my wits about me, because every interaction with them left me feeling weak and defenseless.
And although it was true I didn’t stand a chance against either of them in a physical fight, the weakness I felt was a mental one.
A psychological one.
They were just so good at making the walls I built crumble with just a glance.
And I had resolved not to give in to them until they gave me what I wanted.
I needed to be good at this psychological warfare as well.
Another grumble from my stomach, and I headed for the door.
Hesitantly, I turned the doorknob and looked out to the empty hallway.
If I was lucky, the brothers would be out, and I wouldn’t have to see any of them until tonight.
Luck hadn’t been on my side since I was born.
I took a deep breath and walked out of my room.
I was never locked up in my room, but there was always something about walking around in the house that made me feel like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do.
I didn’t know why my heart was beating so erratically.
Briefly, I entertained the idea of running away, but the fact remained that the premises were full of guards, all loyal to the brothers. Also, not knowing where I would go from here stopped me.
It wasn’t like I could walk out of here and start over.
And there was a small part of me—a stupid part—that thought I would miss them.
Fuck, but I was stupid.
Of course, I would end up developing feelings for them.
My chest constricted as I walked down the stairs, and I realized I had been holding my breath since I’d stepped outside my room.
I made my way to the kitchen, stopping when I found a big hole in the wall near the light switch. I frowned and traced my fingers around it. It hadn’t been here the last time I was in this kitchen. I was sure of it.
Did… one of the brothers do that?
Out of anger?
And what would they do to me if I pushed them to the edge?
I shuddered just thinking about it. I needed to remind myself that this wasn’t a fairy tale, and I wasn’t the leading character in a romance. I needed to remember that I was their captive because they hated my father’s guts, and they were dangerous men.
My nails dug into the skin on my palm, trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest at a moment’s notice.
I went to the fridge and opened it, taking in the well-stocked shelves in there.
I was sure there were enough ingredients to make a sandwich, and I was about to do that when a noise stopped me.
I paused, thinking I might have imagined it, but then it happened again.
What the hell?
I closed the fridge and walked out of the kitchen toward a dark hallway where the noise seemed to be coming from.
A door to the left was ajar.
I hesitated.
My brain told me to just turn around and walk away, pretending I didn’t hear anything because there was no way to unsee anything.
I should be protecting my ignorance.
I swallowed hard and opened the door. The noise got louder.
The unmistakable cry of a man in pain.
There was a staircase leading down to what I assumed was the basement.
Tears filled my eyes. Perhaps a part of me knew what I was about to see before seeing it. My vision tunneled darker the deeper I got into the basement. The noise of the man seemed to drown out my ragged breath, heavy footfalls, and erratic heartbeat.
My bare feet touched the cold, hard floor, the sensation bringing my reality back into clear focus. I bit the inside of my cheek. Now would be the time to turn back around. I could still preserve my innocence a little longer. I could preserve my na?ve perception of the men who had taken me, no matter how stupid it was for me to do so.
I kept walking.
I couldn’t say I was surprised when I turned a corner to what could only be described as their torture dungeon, a place I hadn’t realized existed until now.
All three brothers were facing away from me.
Their attention was on a shirtless man near the back, both arms raised and tied to the ceiling. His feet didn’t even touch the ground.
He was bleeding all over his body. And there was a pool of blood on the ground beneath him. He was on the verge of death. I had never seen a man die before. I had never wanted to.
The brothers didn’t notice me.
Maverick and Killian were mostly observing while Silas…
Silas was the one doing everything. A whip was held casually in his hand, and based on the whip marks on the man’s torso, they had been at this for a while.
A whip.
The scars on my back felt hot, and I reached behind me, letting my fingers trace the familiar lines, something I had done too many times to count over the years. But this time felt different. It was as if there was an anchor attached to my heart, dragging it down into the depths.
As if I was drowning.
“I’m not a patient man,” Silas said in a tone I had never heard him use before. I hadn’t realized he could sound so cold, so cruel, so… inhuman. “Why don’t you tell me the purpose of your little mission today?”
“The girl,” the man gasped, choking on a sob. “Fuck, please. I was just following orders.”
Me? Someone was looking for me. I thought back to Lenny. He’d never said who he was supposed to bring me back to. If not my father, then?—
“Whose orders?” Silas asked.
The man didn’t answer fast enough, and Silas whipped him, the sound harsh. His cries covered my gasp.
The sight of the man disappeared as a memory formed: Dad had cut open my shirt, leaving me in nothing but my bra in front of his men while he whipped me. I could still feel the burn of each mark.
I flinched at the whoosh every time Silas moved his arm.
Stop. Please stop.
I might have said that out loud. Or not. No one paid any attention to me.
Nausea built in my throat, and I pleaded with my brain to get me out of here. I didn’t have to watch. I could leave.
Just. Leave.
I was stuck, frozen.
“Sebastian Cline,” the man groaned. I was still too shocked at the torture to really react to the fact that my uncle was still alive and was sending men to get me.
I shook my head.
“What does he want with the girl?” Silas asked, and I couldn’t be sure, but there was a dark note in his voice that I couldn’t decipher.
“I don’t know,” the man cried. “I really don’t. He just said she was worth more than anything. He said he would pay three million for any man who could bring her to him. That’s all I know. Please, please. Just kill me.”
Just kill him. Just end the torture.
“Kill you?” Silas asked. “You think I’m going to let you die so easily after you trespassed on my place and tried to take what’s mine?”
Silas dropped the whip and pulled out a small knife. The silver gleamed in the light and caught my eyes. He came toward the man, and my brain finally caught up.
Without thinking, I opened my mouth and screamed.
All three brothers turned to me, surprise in their eyes, but it was Silas I was focused on. He dropped the knife on the floor.
I turned and ran out of there before he could react, ignoring the thundering footsteps roaring behind me.
I didn’t look back.
I kept going until I got to my room, my limbs feeling like they were about to give out any? moment.
I turned and slammed my door shut on Silas’ tortured face and locked it, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to keep him out, but hoping he would show me this mercy and leave me alone.
Just take pity on me and leave me alone.
Knocks rained down on the door, and I leaned against it, my knees finally buckling.
I fell to the floor, tears streaming down my face, unable to close my eyes.
The man kept popping up in my mind, and I thought I might be sick if I dwelled too much on it.
The whip marks.
The brothers were no different from my father. For one stupid, blissful moment, I almost convinced myself they might be.
But no.
Monsters.
They were monsters.
Fuck.
I dropped my head on my knees as more tears came.
The knocking on my door had stopped.
This was worse.
Worse yet were the feelings they were able to bring out of me.
Worse yet was how I had come to crave their presence… their touch.
Worse yet was how blinded I had been.
The Tiernan brothers were nothing more than monsters, and I was their victim.
It wasn’t a romance, even if my brain had tried to convince me so, as if I was trying to protect myself from the reality of my situation.
This was a horror story.
And that was all there was to it.