Chapter 29 #2
“Look, he’s not rotting, he doesn’t stink of disease and insides,” the guard spoke again, holding her chin and making her stare at me as I fought. Her eyes were so wild, unseeing, with whirling irises. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Violet,” I muttered her name, urging her to be okay. What the fuck had happened to her? I’d been beaten up, teased and abused without mercy, but Violet. My poor sweet Violet looked gone. Non-existent, like her mind had flickered away.
Amaryllis didn’t look much better at my side, but my eyes were only for Violet, for how desperately I wanted to get her to safety, back to life and laughter and orgasms and love. Fuck, I’d failed. I always fucking failed.
We were right back here, worse off than ever.
There was no damn hope for anything now.
I fought against the rage, the sense of hopelessness, and tried to get Violet’s attention, to get her to show me she was okay somewhere.
Somewhere in that mind she resided, not damaged, not ruined for good.
If our eyes could just lock, if she would focus on me…
“Violet,” I repeated her name, more demanding this time, but nothing. The guard dropped her chin and her face slumped forward, scoffing and straightening up.
“Gabe,” Rafael said from the door as he strolled in, like he was coming home from a long day at work in some high-flying office, rolling up his sleeves and stretching his neck. “Come here.”
The energy in the room grew heavier, darker. Whatever this was all for was imminent. My fingernails bled as I carved them into the wooden armrest.
Gabe, the guard who’d been toying with Violet, sauntered off to go simper at his boss, and I watched them chat.
It was all so bizarre, so casual. My anger towards Rafael was insurmountable, indescribable.
In the split-second I watched him, I imagined every evil death for him.
Every single fucking one. My hatred made me hot, made me burn.
With Violet slumped forward, I tried to grab Connor’s attention.
He was next to Vi, so maybe he could nudge her with his foot or something.
Anything to get a reaction. But when I looked at him, his eyes were so firm on Amaryllis, so desperate, it was like he was going to explode.
Wild red-rimmed eyes, beard scraggly and mouth resolute.
He was in no better a situation than me. No leverage, no energy, no fuel for our bodies apart from the drive to escape, to help our loved ones get out. He and Amy must have bonded in the time he’d kept her with him, because I’d never seen him look at anything with as much care as he did her.
My body grew heavy with helplessness, but I fought it as best I could. This couldn’t be our end. Not now. Not yet. Not until I had given Violet the happiest, longest life possible. She deserved the fucking earth, not this hell.
I ignored Rafael as he came and stood behind Margaret, stroking his fingers through her hair.
It made me want to throw up as he took in the scene he’d set up, each of us, the remaining Lewis’s, restrained at his dining table.
And Margaret, she didn’t simper like I expected; she recoiled a tiny bit, her smile faltering, her eyes going to Mother like she wanted to question if this was right.
Mother chugged the rest of her wine and slammed the glass down.
“We’re here today for a little family dinner,” Rafael said, commanding the room. Tension rippled through all of us, even those semi-conscious. Amy whimpered, Connor bristled and Violet’s shoulders heaved like she was holding in a sob, her eyes still glazed over.
“Unfortunately,” Rafe continued, “only the Lewis family could be in attendance. None of my clan were… available. I believe we have all of you though, no? All those still alive, anyway. Such a shame the patriarch didn’t make it out of that crash…
” His eyes flickered to Violet. “Though from what I hear, we have another little vicious killer in our midst and don’t need cars to do our dirty work for us. ”
“Fuck you,” I spat, finding my voice.
Rafael laughed. “I’ll save that for your sister,” he growled at me, his hand sliding forward into Margaret’s hair again, gripping and tugging so her neck was on show.
He hadn’t touched her; I had to remember that.
Maybe even he wasn’t that sick. “But which sister will it be?” he teased.
“My father’s church has always revered women, noted them for their supreme powers and abilities and eaten them up from the outside in.
” He leaned down and licked Margaret’s ear, his teeth darting out to bite.
She cried this time, real fear showing itself as tears poured down her reddening face. At long last, she was afraid.
“Mother, do something,” I urged, knowing it was futile.
Rafael smiled, revealing sharp teeth. “She’ll do nothing but watch as we reset her family line.
There will be no more Lewis’s by the time I’m done.
You’re all useless, pathetic. I might save one of the little ones to breed so I can steal your money, though.
” He was goading us, teasing only, like he was biding his time for something.
“Who needs another family like yours in the US? In the fucking world? I can take it all.”
He had no seat at the dining table, I realized.
The only spare was next to Violet, opposite Mum, but there was no way he’d give up the head.
Why was Margaret there and not him? Why was he standing behind her, proprietary in his touch?
He must have already chosen, decided to take her as his own.
Amaryllis was in no state to even sit, let alone torture any further.
Rafael released Margaret’s hair and began walking behind us, his fingers stroking through Amy’s hair, then mine, then Mother’s.
He moved around the table before coming up behind Violet.
When he reached her, he fisted the back of her head and slammed her nose into the wood of the table.
She didn’t even cry out, only lifted her head up to reveal a long line of blood running from one nostril as she sucked in a deep breath.
Still, she refused to glance at me. “It isn’t really real,” she was muttering, shaking her head. “Not yet. It isn’t real yet.”
“Violet, look at me,” I demanded, but she still shook her head and looked down. Fuck, I’d never seen her this messed up. I was about to turn and cuss at Rafael, when he spoke first.
“I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you?
” Rafe said, looking at all of us with mock friendliness, a wide, menacing smile.
“I could eat a cow.” He clicked his fingers and in walked a guard with a trolley loaded with plates.
He seemed pissed off to have the job, but dutifully placed the roasted meat in front of each of us.
It looked like pork, potatoes and some veg. It stank. Poison, must be. A strange way to send us off. Stomachs rotting full of poison. Too easy. Too strange.
“We can’t eat without our hands, dipshit,” Connor growled, finally speaking up. Our eyes met for a moment, but his were unreadable.
“Oh, I have a plan for that.” Rafael grinned.
With wicked slowness, he went around the room and untied one hand for each of us, a guard standing behind each person as he left them.
He took care with Amaryllis and Margaret, but ripped Violet’s hand through the rope before it was loose enough, leaving scuffs and blood on her skin.
Again, she didn’t flinch, didn’t whimper.
Only looked at her tormentor like she was confused.
Rafael scowled at her lack of reaction. Fuck, where was she? My Violet, my sweet Violet. I needed to see a glimmer of her, a flicker of that fire behind her eyes. Something. Anything. I shook my chair and was about to reach out across the table with my now-free hand when I thought better of it.
Maybe it was better if she was gone. Better if her mind had left.
“The sand is sticking between my toes,” she whispered to herself, scrunching up her face like she was willing it into existence. My heart squeezed.
“Now, eat,” Rafael demanded, bringing my attention back to him. He still hadn’t sat down, just standing above us, impatient and looming. This was all so fucking bizarre, freeing one of our hands, making it easier for us to escape. Presenting this food… a twisted, fucked up game.
Mother didn’t hesitate to follow his order, picking up her cutlery and cutting a piece of the meat, popping it between her lips and chewing with a hum. No one else moved.
“I said EAT,” Rafe bellowed, making Amy and Margaret whimper and begin working on their plates too. What was this food? What had he done to it? Why the theater? I squeezed my lips together and refused to touch it.
Rafael shoved the guard behind Violet out of the way and pointed a gun to the back of her head. He looked at me as he spoke, “Eat, or it will be her brains splattering your plate.”
We glared at each other for just a second, but I couldn’t risk anything with her.
I began eating. My stomach was so hungry for food, so empty, that it hurt right away, griping at my insides.
Connor was eating now too, and, at last, Violet took a bite of potato, going green around the gills right away.
Rafael looked satisfied and stepped back, making sure to spend time staring at each of us. For a moment, there was a lull, then—
“Please!” Margaret shouted, slamming down her fork with a cry. “Please,” she whimpered again, looking at Rafael with actual, loud emotional anguish. The despair on her face was a clawing, panicked thing.
And Rafael walked over to her like a lion to a gazelle, stalking closer, his gun sliding back into his pocket in favor of his hands being free, just as much a weapon.
“Isn’t this what you desired?” Rafe asked her, voice low, but high enough we could all hear it. “You wanted to sustain the church? Well, aren’t these all church members?” He looked at each of us, made her do the same. “Aren’t they all church-abiding, loving members? Idolizing me and the covenants.”
Margaret whimpered, lost, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t figure out what was happening, what had her switching up so suddenly. But her wide gaze was desperate; her face was flushed with fear.
“What damn covenants?” she screamed. “You don’t believe any of it! It’s all a joke to you! How dare you… how dare you defile the church in this way? You’re no leader. You’re pathetic.”
My eyes widened, mother’s fork clanked onto her plate and Amy cried, a sob wracking from her. Fucking hell, Margaret had a backbone after all. And her words, her accusations. Water is wet.
Rafe stalked even nearer to her, menacing, angry.
“Maybe you just need to give them a little more.” His voice was teasing, cold and bitter as he got closer, pressing his nose against hers, staring straight into her soul. “Maybe you just haven’t done enough.”
“You’re pathetic,” Margaret reiterated, though her voice was much shakier. Dread sank around the room, a tension, a precipice we were about to tumble over.
“More,” Rafe muttered, and straightened up.
Margaret shook her head, her eyes widening as Rafael ushered Gabe over.
Together, they untied her shaking body.
When they lifted her, my heart bottomed out. She was wearing a short white dress; red dripped from the hem of one side, pouring down the empty space.
Her leg was missing.