Chapter 39 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
My body is heavy, uncooperative. A thick fog clings to my mind, like I’ve had too much wine and the room won’t stop tilting.
I try to lift my head, but everything feels slow and disconnected.
There’s pressure under my arm—someone is holding me upright, dragging me.
My bare feet scrape uselessly across polished tile.
“She’s had too much to drink,” a man says with an easy laugh near my ear that makes my skin crawl.
I blink hard. My vision clears just enough to catch the exit sign glowing above a door as we pass beneath it.
I’m not drunk. I remember that now. I remember Ray. The hallway. The bathroom.
The man adjusts his grip, his arm locking across my back beneath my shoulder blades. He steers me—more accurately, carries me—toward a car idling at the curb with the back door already open.
My heart hiccups.
I thrash against his hold, forcing him to shift and adjust his grip. My tongue is thick, and my lips tingle, but I suck in enough air to scream—
The taser hits before I can make a sound.
It slams into my side under my ribs, the jolt tearing through me like a river of fire through my body. My shoulders snap forward, muscles locking in a violent spasm so tight it feels like my bones might splinter.
The worst part isn’t the first hit. It’s that it doesn’t stop.
The charge keeps pouring in. My jaw clamps shut, cutting off the cry stuck in my throat, and I can taste blood. By the time it ends, my legs are dead weight. My vision tunnels to black. They lift me off the ground, and my body surrenders to the dark.
I come back as they drag me out of the car, gravel cutting into my bare feet. Where are my shoes? My phone?
Oh god. The trackers.
My head is pounding with each step, and my body won’t obey my brain’s commands. I whimper when my shoulder slams hard into rough stone, and then I’m being pulled down a staircase.
Brady. I keep his image in front of me, willing myself to not to sob.
He has to know I’m gone by now.
Brady will come for me.
I just have to hang on.
Just a little longer.
The stairs end, and the floor beneath my feet is rough like outdoor carpeting. A heavy door groans open, and icy air washes over me. They shove me forward and dump me into a wooden chair. My body shakes so hard my teeth are clicking violently.
Hands wrench my arms behind the chair, and plastic restraints bite deep into my wrists as they’re pulled tight. Another pair of hands yanks my legs against the chair’s front posts and ties them tight. The bindings are so tight I can feel the thud of my pulse in my fingertips.
Inside I’m screaming, but I make myself focus. I’m a negotiator. Maybe I can… I know it’s hopeless, but it might buy me some time.
I blink through the haze. Rows of bottled wine are stretched out before us. A wine cellar.
Anna Lindquist stands at the far wall. She moves slowly, lifting a bottle from a rack. Retrieving a corkscrew from a nearby table, she waves it in front of my face before laughing when I flinch back from the sharp tip as its revolution comes too close to my eye.
Straightening, she uncorks the bottle with a clean twist, and pours herself a glass of red wine. “I’d offer you some, but…”
“Not a red wine girl.” My voice cracks.
Her smile is condescending. “Cute. Do you think you are going to reason with me? Make a deal?” She mocks. “Your ex-husband thought he could, and all he got was extra pain before I killed him. Much better to give it up now and save yourself all the trouble.”
“I have a security team. They’ll come for me.” I try to sound confident, but my voice trembles.
Her eyes flick toward me, amused. “Oh, I’m counting on it. I’m assuming they’re the ones you’ve entrusted the necklace to.”
She walks toward me. “Do you know the secret of the necklace?” I keep my face blank. “Aren’t you curious?”
She walks in a circle around me.
“No,” I finally choke out. “None of my business.”
She makes a tsking sound. “For a lawyer, you’re a terrible liar.”
She lifts her glass to sip and passes behind me again. I can feel her eyes on the back of my neck. I try to hide a shiver. I don’t like not being able to see her.
Anna circles me slowly, the stem of her wineglass balanced between her fingers. Her tone is almost conversational.
“Do you even know why you’re going to die?” One manicured finger lifts to wipe a drop of wine from the corner of her mouth. “Did Worthington tell you anything?”
I keep my jaw locked, refusing to answer.
She looks thoughtful. Her calm is more terrifying than if she was raving at me. Calm implies she’s in no rush to get the information out of me. “I’d want to know, I think. If I were going to suffer and bleed, I’d like to know why.”
Her red lips stretch into a wide smile that makes me want to throw up.
“I think he told you, and this…” She gestures at me with her glass.
“This is some pathetic attempt to save yourself. I know who he is. The undercover cop who caused all that trouble for us a few years ago. Nothing we couldn’t clean up, of course, but it was irritating. ”
She takes a sip, eyes steady on mine. “Which means both of you are loose ends now. And anyone else he might have been foolish enough to share with.”
She sets the glass down with delicate precision before picking up the bottle and refilling her glass. “So, when he comes crawling to trade the necklace for your life, we’ll settle all of it at once. I’ll send him a message, but we should have fun while we wait.”
My body turns to ice as one of her men moves closer to me. Oh god. I bite my tongue hard to keep myself from begging. I won’t give her that.
To my immense relief she waves him off. “Not yet. We’re still having girl talk.” She winks at me. “I don’t get to brag about what I’ve created, and since you won’t be able to tell anyone, I think I’ll indulge myself.”
“Like a Bond villain?” My mouth hurts to form the words.
Anna’s brow wrinkles and then clears before she lets out a tinkling laugh and claps her hands in delight.
“Exactly! Everyone knows the villains are the most interesting characters. Now where was I? We call ourselves the Lapidarists,” she says, her voice taking on an instructional tone.
“We’re a selective group. Do you know what a Lapidarist is?
” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, continuing to circle around me, her voice behind my head, chilling in its nonchalance.
“Just as a lapidarist shapes a raw gem, we shape the world. Cutting away what doesn’t serve us. Polishing what does.”
She stops in front of me, sipping the wine.
“The necklaces are a record. Each one has a number etched beside the clasp to identify the owner.”
My pulse pounds higher in my throat.
“It’s our insurance,” she explains. “A form of mutual destruction. Imagine Carrow’s horror when he learned his necklace was gone. Poor Natalya. Claimed she didn’t know hers was a fake. Maybe she didn’t. She certainly seemed motivated at the end to give us any information we wanted.”
Bile rises in my throat as Anna sips her wine, chuckling at the memory of Natalya’s torture.
“And then we found out about you.” She sets her wine down and purses her lips.
“You are an intelligent woman. Tell me what I need before Worthington contacts us, and I promise I’ll make it quick. I value efficiency after all.”
My stomach rolls, and I feel the cold sweat slipping down my hairline.
I want to break.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
Not because I’m brave—because I’d give her whatever she wants to avoid being tortured—but because giving her what she wants means handing Rhodes, Vincent, Finn, and Sera over on a platter.
People I barely know, but who’ve already risked everything for me.
People who chose to stand in front of me when they didn’t have to. Selling them out isn’t an option.
Brady. For him I can be brave.
I force myself to breathe, to try and calm the shallow pants barely bringing enough oxygen in. As if, maybe I can trick my body into thinking this isn’t happening.
Every second I hold on is one extra second for Brady to find me.
Because he will come.
That certainty is the only shield I have left, and I wrap it tight around me, bracing for whatever’s next.
“So, Ms. Gowan, let’s try this again. Where is the necklace? And who else has seen it?”
I stare at her, willing myself to hold my nerve.
She waits five seconds, then shrugs.
“Have it your way.”
Her man steps forward.
The back of his hand cracks across my face. My head whips sideways, and burning heat sears my cheek. Another blow and my lip splits. I can taste it in my mouth. The third catches me in the temple. My teeth rattle together and my ears ring. The zip ties keep me upright when my body sags.
Anna sighs. “I did hope we could keep this civil.”
I bite back the scream when her guard breaks my finger.
I think of Brady. His voice when he says I’m not alone. His hands on me, holding me close when I’m afraid.
I trust him.
More than that.
I love him.
I love you, Brady.
I love you.
I love you.
I repeat it silently like a lifeline. Like if I say it enough, he’ll hear me through the walls. Even if I don’t walk out of here.
The guard grasps the next finger, and the room tilts. My breath catches, darkness edging my vision.
It wins for a while, but when something acrid is waved under my nose, I come unwillingly back.
There’s a deep throbbing ache radiating from the left side of my face, down into my jaw and temple. My split lip stings with every shallow breath as blood mixes with saliva and pools in the corner of my mouth, gagging me.
My ribs hurt from the taser, and my shoulders scream for relief from the angle my arms are tied behind me. My hands tingle, and I’m almost grateful that the zip ties are so tight they’ve cut off most of the circulation to my hands so the pain isn’t as bad.
“Sleeping on the job, Miss Gowan?” Anna’s voice, is amused. “That’s rude. Am I boring you?”
I force my chin up a few inches. She’s still pristine, still sipping her wine.
A sound rattles out of me, half gasp, half growl. Hot tears spill down my cheeks without my consent. Tears of rage and frustration.
She smiles. “See?” She glances at the man still standing near the wall. “I told you we’d get somewhere quickly.”
Turning back to me, her face hardens. “Where is the necklace, Elizabeth?”
I shake my head. Brady will come. I know it.
“You’re only prolonging the inevitable,” she says, sounding annoyed.
The man steps forward again.
“No,” I whisper, knowing it won’t matter.
He crouches beside me and grabs my hand again. I know what’s coming.
“Please—” White-hot pain rips up my arm, and I scream, the sound tearing from my throat raw and broken.
But even as my vision hazes at the edges again, I cling to the one thing I know is true.
Brady will come.