Chapter 22
22
TATUM
M y entire arm is on fire, snot and tears crusted to my cheeks as I set my shaky hand on my thigh. I can’t look.
I can’t fucking look.
After they took a part of me, they cauterized the wound. The pain of it made me pass out, the smell of it, the agony. I only woke when they threw me back downstairs. Thankfully they took the rag out of my mouth and handed me a bottle of water. At least I can move around, but right now, it hurts too much to do anything. Everything aches.
How can something so small be so painful?
I lean my head back against the wall and try to meditate, but I can’t focus. It’s too hard to think past it. It’s a fire in my skin, my nerve endings ablaze. My legs start to shake and I pull them into my chest and lay my head on my bent knees.
I don’t want to lose any more parts. I don’t want to fall to pieces. What if no one wants me after this? What if Anthony doesn’t?
I shouldn’t be thinking these things, and yet in this dark basement, with only the shadows and mice to keep me company, I can’t help it. It’s the only thing that’s replaying over and over in my head.
I might die.
What will he tell my parents if I don’t make it? If he doesn’t get to me in time?
They will be devastated.
The thought of my parents faces as he breaks the news to them makes my eyes well with tears once more. I rub my swollen eyes on the knees of my dirty jeans and sniffle.
I won’t die here. I won’t.
I don’t know how I manage it, but I fall asleep. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion or the throbbing pain lulling me to the other side, but eventually my eyes closed and I drifted off. It was the first peaceful moment I’ve had since being taken.
I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to face what’s next.
But I’m forced to.
Strong, rough hands grab on to me, yanking me up, and I startle, kicking my feet out and fighting the monster. As I come awake, groggy and disoriented, I realize that my arm is on fire once more, that my nerve endings are zinging with pain as the two meatheads haul me up the stairs.
They strap me down in the chair once more and there’s Douglas looking well-fed and showered.
“I hope you fucking die, you piece of shit,” I spit out as soon as I see him.
He grins at me, thinking it’s funny. But I’m not deterred. This is the first time I’ve had my mouth free since he captured me, and I plan on using it.
“What? Looking so smug? You’re pathetic. A loser. Tying me down and cutting me up. That make you feel like a real big man?”
His grin slips and he runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t tempt me with cutting, boy. I’ll do a whole lot worse than that.”
“Yeah, yeah, you and your big knives. You’re stupid. Such a loser. Probably can’t even get it up, huh?”
Grape-head snorts a laugh at this, and Douglas turns to glower at him. He quickly swallows it back and then shrugs. “I mean, it was kinda funny.”
“Keep your thoughts to yourself, Butch. You piece of shit. And you,” he turns his gaze back to me. “Maybe I should cut out your tongue so you shut the fuck up.”
The thought of it, the way that would feel makes my entire body shake with fear, but I don’t let up. Yes, I’m scared but I’m also mad.
“What? You want me to beg, you ugly fuck? I won’t. No, when Anthony gets to you, I’m going to tell him to let me have a go at you. Maybe you’ll be the one in the chair, huh? Maybe Bane will scoop out your eyeballs.”
I grin at him, knowing my lips are bloody and my voice is slightly unhinged, but the thought of doing that to him makes me giddy. I want a chance to rip him apart.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. They won’t ever find me. Or you. Well, unless you count the pieces of you I’ll deliver to him.”
“Try it, you pathetic piece of garbage.”
His nostrils flare, and I see him grab his knife. Fuck. Shit. I taunted him too much, pushed him too far. He makes his way toward me, intent on doing just as I suggested. And I lean back, trying to scramble out of the way, but unable to move.
Fuck. Fuck!
But before he can lay a hand on me, I hear gunshots outside, the shouts of several men, and the thump of bodies hitting the ground.
“You are so dead,” I say with an evil grin, and Douglas sputters near me, looking around wildly for a means of escape. “I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer.”
Suddenly, Anthony strides in the doorway, his gaze intent, Sebastian at his side.
Grape-head tries to run past them, but Sebastian flicks his wrist and stabs him right in the neck without so much as blinking.
Douglas scurries behind me, the knife in his hand pressed against my neck.
Anthony’s gaze darkens, he’s murderous. I’ve never seen him like this.
For the first time since meeting him, I see the mafia boss in him. Ruthless, evil.
So fucking hot.
“You are going to die, Douglas,” Anthony growls. “But perhaps I’ll make it slightly less painful if you back away from him.”
Douglas scoffs and digs the knife in further, making my skin tear and bleed.
I hear Bane outside, howling, an evil laugh following as gunshots continue to ring out.
Sebastian nods and turns, striding out of the rickety building. His job is done and as he goes, my eyes meet Anthony’s.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. And then I feel it, the whoosh of something behind me, the gurgle of someone straining against hands to breathe.
“Took you long enough,” Anthony says, moving toward me quickly.
Sebastian chuckles. “I knew you’d want him alive,” he says as Anthony bends down in front of me, his own knife pulled from his coat. The sharp blade cuts through the rope and I fall into his arms, glancing back to see that Douglas is passed out, still breathing and alive.
Anthony’s arms go around me and he pulls me into his chest, his face pressed into my neck, inhaling.
“I’m so sorry, Tatum,” he whispers, his voice choked.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
I hold on to him tightly and then hiss when I remember I’m missing a finger.
“It hurts,” I whisper, and Anthony’s grip tightens on me.
“We’ll get you home. We’ll get you patched up.”
“I’m ugly now.”
He leans back and his eyes meet mine. “You have never been more beautiful, my little light. Never. You were so brave.”
My lips wobble and a tear slips from my eye.
He swipes it gently away with his thumb and then picks me up and carries me toward the car.
“Guess I’ll bring this arsehole by myself,” Sebastian grumbles loudly behind us, but Anthony just ignores him. His gaze is on me.
Only me.
He came. He found me.
I’m safe.