Chapter Forty
Bianca
Vanessa’s body contorts next to me, seizing with violent tremors. She’s shaking in a way that sets my heart to panic. Foaming at the mouth. Her limbs thrash uncontrollably, and I know — I goddamn know what’s happening. A gurgling sound fills the air, wet and terrifying, as vomit spills from her lips. I gasp, frozen for an awful second as I watch her whole body riotously shut down. Her skin pales until it's a ghastly gray with sick shades of blue. Her eyelids flutter rapidly, then slower, then not at all. Her breathing is a ragged, stuttering mess. It sounds like it’s tearing her apart. It sounds like it’s stopping.
I scream. Her name. A wordless cry. Anything. Fuck, I can’t think. I’ve got to do something. I thrash against the ropes, cutting bone-deep into my wrists.
“Vanessa!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Victor, you motherfucker! You fucking monster! You goddamn sicko!”
Victor stands a few feet away with the same detached indifference he has for everything. Casual and calm as ever, like he’s watching a comedy show instead of murder.
“She’s dying!” I shriek, each word shredding from my throat. “You killed her!”
He just smirks. It’s the same smug, reptilian smirk he wore when we were kids, the one he always had when he got away with something. Like that time he stole my favorite doll, chopped off the arms and legs, and lit the torso on fire with the lighter fluid he broke out of our dad’s zippo lighter.
“Relax, little sister. I’ve got Narcan in my jacket.”
I freeze in mid-scream, the sound stuck in my throat.
He taps his chest pocket. “So do most of my guys. Can’t run a stable full of talent without keeping the emergency meds close by. Girls like Vanessa… they get sloppy sometimes. Just because they might wear a nurse’s uniform on the job, doesn’t mean they’ve got a nurse’s injecting skills, you know?”
I feel my stomach twist into a knot. Nausea rushes up, and I think I might vomit. If he were closer, I swear I would, just to see the flicker of disgust on his face. Just to see something human other than the smug look of a sick, twisted killer getting his kicks.
“Then give it to her!” I scream, straining against the chair until my muscles feel like they’re on fire. Every inch of me aches.
Victor walks slowly, deliberately, to Vanessa’s body and crouches down beside her. His hand brushes a sweat-slick strand of hair away from her face. He watches her like a kid examining a frog in science class, like there’s an answer he needs to find before he bothers to save her.
“She’ll live,” he says, his voice infuriatingly level. “But only if you do what I want.”
My chest rises and falls with a desperate rhythm, the air cut by ragged breaths. My whole body feels locked in a futile scream of panic as I glare at him with all the hatred I can muster. My eyes dart to Vanessa; her face gray, her body shivering through a mess of violent spasms. Each second that passes carries her further away, closer to a point of no return. Her respirations are weak, nothing more than ragged gasps. The sound of it shreds my soul. She's my responsibility. She's my friend. I have to save her.
Slowly, savoring every moment of my torment, Victor stands. He brushes imaginary dust off his pants, his movements as measured as they are infuriating.
“So here’s the deal, Bianca,” he says. “You agree to help me. You sign over access to Safe House’s donations, and you let me decide which of those poor, pathetic, drug-addled women gets to come work for me. You put the word in their ear, you make it sound like a golden opportunity. And in exchange? You get to walk. Alex gets to walk. Even Vanessa — if you decide quick enough.”
I shudder, the revulsion physical and spiritual. “You’re sick.”
His grin stretches wider, a crocodile’s grin full of teeth and malice. “I’m a businessman.”
I sob, raw and broken. I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms as if pain could anchor me to something other than helplessness. Hate burns through me like acid in my veins, yet there’s nothing I can do but watch Vanessa slip further into the dark. Her skin is slick with sweat, as pale and brittle as chalk. Her head lolls, and I see vomit thick with bile and blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
Victor leans in, his breath chilling my skin. “Tick tock, sister.”
And I say it. I don’t know how it comes out of my mouth, but it does. I wrench out that last little piece of me that he and Tank haven’t already killed and I offer it up on a silver platter to the monster who shares my last name.
“Fine,” I choke out, each letter searing me. “I’ll do it.”
I watch the sadistic delight unfold across his face as Victor laughs. The sound is almost musical, full of a bright, delighted glee. “Knew you were smart.”
With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, he pulls out a small cannister. He gives a little whistle, and I see one of his men take the cannister and kneel beside Vanessa to administer the nasal spray. The man hesitates, his eyes locked on my brother’s. I can’t watch. I want to, but I can’t. I stare at the floor, fighting back tears, swallowing each sob that threatens to break free. I’m nothing now, but I’m alive. A survivor.
And for now, that has to be enough.
Victor leans against the bar, whistling a low, cheery tune. He’s waiting, drawing this out, all to make me suffer a little more; he’s taken everything he wanted from me, and still can’t resist driving the knife a little deeper.
And that’s when I hear it.
The pop-pop-pop of automatic gunfire. A staccato assault that rips through the dreadful, murderous cheer of the room and leaves a trail of confused fear in its wake.
Victor’s body stills.
The goons tense up.
“What the fuck was that?” he barks, whipping toward the back hallway.
One guy with a radio mutters something about perimeter breach. Victor curses and yells, “Go check it out — now!”
The two goons run off, weapons raised, eyes wide. They don’t know it yet, but they’re running to their deaths. I lift my head slowly.
Victor looks back at me.
And I smile.
Because I know who it is. There’s only one person it can be, and I never expected he’d come back into my life — doubt I ever could’ve imagined a scenario where I’d want him in my life again — but, for right now, I’m happy in my own sick, twisted way.
Victor tilts his head. My smile grows wider to see the fear and indecision in his eyes. Oh, my sick brother, how I revel in your terror. How I love to see you brought low, to feel human, to feel that same helplessness you force into so many innocent people’s lives.
“Why are you smiling?” He says.
I stare death into his eyes. Smiling, cheerful, vicious death.
“I know exactly what that noise is.”
His brow furrows. “What is it? Answer me.”
I tilt my chin and snarl. “Oh, my brother… you're about to get so much more than you bargained for, you piece of shit. Tick tock, you piece of shit. Tick tock. Your time is up.”