57. Camilla
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CAMILLA
I roll my head back to stretch it as best I can.
The longest I ever did strung up like this was three days, and I think we’re rapidly approaching that. I’m so thirsty that I haven’t had saliva for at least a day. My stomach is so empty that it’s been in a continuous state of cramping for longer than I care to think about, and my body aches in a way I can barely stand.
Crew finally succumbed to sleep despite how hard he fought against it, but I’m glad he’s getting some rest, even if his shoulders are pulled at an angle that even hurts to look at.
I press my dry eyes closed and force a deep breath into my lungs. I’m pretty sure I have a broken rib from when Caleb was here, but no one has stepped foot inside this cell since. Maybe they’ve just left us here, and that probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but I don’t think we’re that lucky.
Almost as if my thoughts have summoned them, the door behind Crew creaks open, and I flick my mask back into place. Admittedly, it’s much harder to snap into my indifferent alter ego, but I refuse to appear weak to these people. If they want to kill me, they’ll do it while I have my head held high, and they’ll never get the satisfaction of seeing me cower.
“Ever the unfeeling Mafia princess,” Charles says as he rounds Crew’s still unconscious body.
“Queen,” I correct him. “Unfeeling Mafia queen.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think it matters anymore, pet. I think any title you may have held is long gone at this point.”
“Not until my heart stops beating,” I deadpan. “Speaking of which, are we going to get on with your evil plan sometime soon?”
He stops in front of me, his dark eyes sweeping over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl in their wake. Thank fuck, I’m still wearing the sweatpants and sweater Crew dressed me in as we were fleeing the compound. Otherwise, the violent shivers that have racked my body for the last twelve or so hours would have gotten the better of me by now.
“I thought for sure a few days in here would snap the mouthy bitch out of you, but I can see I was wrong.” He glowers.
A laugh tumbles from my lips, but I don’t allow my eyes to drop from him. I know better than to turn my back on a predator, and Charles is just that. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“You will be.”
“Promises, promises.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of Crew’s chains turns both our attention to him. He’s getting weaker by the hour, and I’m beginning to think I’ll have to slip these chains sooner rather than later to make sure we can both walk out of here.
“Ah, you’re up.” Charles turns his attention to Crew, and I force my body to remain relaxed despite the panic that flares to life in my chest. I understand why Crew was upset with me for provoking Caleb, but I also have faith that he knows what he’s doing.
“What can we do for you, Charles?” he asks, his voice bored and void of emotion, but I still find solace in the sound. We haven’t been speaking much in order to conserve our energy, and it’s comforting to hear his voice after so many hours in my own mind.
“I came to check on you both, make sure you’re comfortable.” Charles smirks smugly. This motherfucker.
“Super comfy,” I tell him.
“Can’t remember a time where I was more comfortable,” Crew adds, and I fight the laugh that tries to escape.
Charles flicks his glare between us, but he doesn’t make a move to stalk closer to either of us. “Clearly, starvation and thirst aren’t doing anything to break your spirit.”
“Clearly,” Crew deadpans.
“So maybe it’s time we up the ante.” He walks behind me, his fingers brushing over my ribs as he rounds my body and returns with something in his hand that I struggle to make out in the dimly lit cell. “Who wants to start?”
“Me,” Crew and I say at the same time before staring one another down. I don’t want to watch him hurt any more than he wants to watch me, but going off the last few hours, I think I’m in a better position to handle whatever it is they throw at me.
Charles chuckles, his eyes moving between us as if it’s the most amusing thing he’s heard today. “Well, isn’t this sweet?” He turns to me, and finally I see the knife he’s got clutched in his palm, causing my stomach to drop. “But I think I’ll begin with my should-have-been wife.”
“The fact you ever thought I was going to marry you just proves how little you truly knew about me leading up to that deal coming to fruition.”
He nods as he takes a step toward me, his face contemplative. “You’re right. I should have taken more time to learn about my future wife in the lead up to your birthday. The times I had someone follow you, you just seemed like a normal teenager going to school and seeing her friends. But I should have known John was going to try to fuck me over.”
“It blows my mind that you ever believed he was going to allow you to have his firstborn child. How fucking stupid did you have to be?” I ignore the glare I get from Crew as I force Charles to keep his attention on me. “You never did tell me what made my dad make that deal to begin with. Now’s as good a time as any if you’re planning on killing me anyway.” I nod at the knife clenched in his fist. Something tells me he’s not going to be quite as trained with a blade as I am, which means I could be in some real trouble.
He hums as he approaches me. “You may be right there, pet.” The name rolls off his tongue and leaves bile climbing my throat. Every time he says it, I’m transported to that night in his apartment when he almost raped me, and it takes everything inside me not to show how much it affects me. He grips my sweatshirt between his fingers and pulls the fabric taut before he uses the knife to slice through the soft fabric.
I flick my eyes up to meet Crew’s, his mismatched gaze full of rage as he stares at the back of Charles’s head, but I keep my attention on him, ignoring the cool air that rushes around my torso with each inch of skin he uncovers.
Don’t flinch.
Don’t cower.
Don’t let him see you weak.
My father repeated those words to me over and over as his men tortured me, and while I hoped I would never need those hard lessons he taught me, I’m glad I have them.
The blade doesn’t pause until it rests at my throat, just an inch of fabric left before the garment parts completely. The tip of the knife rests against the center of my throat, and I turn my attention to him, forcing myself to appear bored.
When he doesn’t get the reaction he was hoping for, a growl escapes his throat, and he slices through the neck of the sweatshirt, leaving my top half almost completely bare to him. Thankfully, Crew helped me into a sports bra when I was too sleepy and exhausted to dress myself.
“Such a pretty body,” Charles says to no one as he drags the knife along the tops of my breasts before trailing a path over my bra and to my bare stomach. “It’s a shame I never got to have my way with it. Well, I suppose it’s not too late.”
I press my eyes closed to warn off the panic that lodges itself in my throat, and when I open them again, I’m staring right at Crew, his own panic clear in his usually guarded eyes. This is what my father always warned me about. Weakness. Love. They exist hand in hand. Except, I’ve learned that that’s only the case when we allow it to be. Love has just as much opportunity to make you strong. To make you resilient. To make you the best version of yourself.
“Tell me about the deal,” I say, my voice even despite the anxiety running rampant through my body.
He sighs. “Very well. A long time ago, your mother and I were quite close. We were best friends for many years, and then our fathers struck up a deal for us to marry one another. I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember, probably longer than I even knew what that word meant. But she didn’t love me the same way I did her. She loved your father.”
My mouth drops open at the revelation. Did my dad promise his firstborn in the name of love? Is that why he always taught me that it makes you weak? Because love was the reason he would eventually lose me as well?
My head spins, and I struggle to focus on the words he’s saying, barely even aware of the fact he’s still speaking at all.
“I could have kept your mother, of course. She didn’t have a say in the matter because, unlike you, she knew her place in this world. All she needed to know was how to be a good wife and mother. But I was young and stupid, and if she was never going to love me, what would be the point in forcing her into a life with me?” He tells the story as if he’s still in that moment, which leaves the knife resting against my belly.
I keep my breaths shallow in an attempt to stop it from cutting me, but with each inhale the blade drives deeper.
“But when I agreed to the deal, your father took her from me and refused to let me see her or speak to her. So one minute, the woman I loved was my best friend, and the next she was no one to me and I was no one to her. Like I never even mattered.”
If it weren’t for the fact he’s holding a knife to my body right now, I could probably find it in myself to feel sorry for him. But when his dark eyes flick up to meet mine and the story falls away, the malice staring back at me makes my stomach sink. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him to tell me about the past.
Almost too quickly for me to catch the move, he presses the knife deep into my stomach. Pain engulfs my entire body, but I force my mouth to remain shut and my tears to remain unshed.
I won’t give him the satisfaction, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.