Chapter 70
“BLOODY MARY” BY LADY GAG
Ibit back the urge to bolt out of the woods when I heard a loud scream. It sounded like Quinntessa, sobbing and pleading. There was no one capable of making my heart ache like her.
Milo stopped just short of the tree line. He grabbed the rope he used to tie up my wrists from his backpack and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
He was as uncomfortable with this plan as I was. There was so much risk. We both could die, me faster than Milo, but it would be an easy shot if they wished.
Milo was pretending he found me—captured me. We hoped Quinntessa would be back at the barn. I knew she’d be in a stall, questioned by Levi and what was left of his boys. When Milo dragged me in, we’d wait for the perfect chance to strike.
Then, we’d be free.
Damn, did I sound stupid or what?
I blamed love. I wasn’t like this before. I made choices quick and painless. I remembered each consequence and never learned. I only ever worried if there would be anything more than less time with my daughter.
“No.” I exhaled when a loud chorus of laughter hit my ears. Taunting her. Taunting my girl. “Let’s go.”
“Alright.” Milo didn’t move. I heard him take a deep breath and fix his bookbag. “Don’t fuck this up. I’m not dying for you. I’ll die for her.”
“You’re not dying for Quinntessa.” I looked over my shoulder and met his eyes. “I am.”
“You’re right.” His haunted eyes closed, reopening with a flicker of longing. “I’m not dying for her.”
He marched me through the wide doors of the old barn and down the long row of stalls. Milo’s boots stirred up the debris from the wet soil outside and the old hay dander. Dominik kept this place pristine before he passed, and now, it smelled like straight shit all the time.
Each footstep on the concrete left my head spinning.
I could feel it shooting up my leg like the throb in my ankle.
My face pounded with my heart, smacking my right eye from the intense swelling my father, Sebastian, or Oscar had gifted me.
I was still trying to figure out which fight in the last few days was what hurt the worst.
I had a feeling it would be this one.
Milo shoved me roughly when we approached the laughing men. I wanted to lift my head and search for the sound of Quinntessa’s cries, but he dragged me under his arm and forced my neck awkwardly so it would look as if he’d given me a tough time.
“What should we do, boss? Doesn’t look like the princess is willing to talk,” I heard Victor chuckle.
“Again.”
My father was here. I had hoped and prayed he wouldn’t be down here when Quinntessa arrived. He would take it farther than Victor would, push my sweet-faced girl to give up everything if she wanted to live.
Milo stopped us just around the corner when the sound of splashing made my head soar. I tried to rush out of his grip, but he tossed me to the side and grabbed the collar of my shirt.
“Don’t,” he warned me.
I gritted my teeth at him. Angry tears burned my eyes as the splashing continued. It felt like forever before I heard Quinntessa gasping for a breath.
“Stop. St…op!” she coughed.
“Where is she?” Victor asked. “Come on. You aren’t going to tell me where your girlfriend’s hiding?”
“She’s not my freaking girlfriend, you Lego-headed bozo.
” Quinntessa coughed violently, the sound of chains rattling hitting my ears.
“You all got dialogue like a ten-year-old wrote it. Is this the part when Fifth Harmony walks in and adopts me? Or are you 1D boys? You look like a One Direction boy, Baldy.”
Damn Mustang and her nervous rambles.
“Put her in the water!” Victor shouted. “Let her drown a little. I’m tired of her fucking yapping.”
Milo quickly yanked me around the corner when Quinntessa shrieked, and water splashed again. I hung my head weakly and pretended to be struggling to walk.
The splashing stopped, and Quinntessa took a loud, much-needed breath. I tumbled to the floor at Milo’s feet, groaning and cowering in pain.
“Well,” Papa looked down at me with a disappointed, slow shake of his head. “You have once again proven to learn nothing, Eleanor. Bra-va.”
“Found her in the woods, hiding in the old woodshed,” Milo explained, chuckling. “Waiting for her girl to arrive, I’m sure of it.”
“That’s my boy.” Milo’s father, Anton, clapped his hands and laughed with glee.
I raised my head enough to meet his eyes. He leaned in the doorway of a stall with a tiny curl to his upper lip.
There was blood on the hay under his feet. I searched quickly for any sign of Quinntessa and felt my heart leap out of my chest when I spotted her half-balancing on a large water trough.
Her feet were bound and held by Markus, hooked between his legs to keep her from squirming away.
Quinntessa’s body was held out of the water by Maddox, his hand gripping her sports bra straps.
Her upper body was almost completely exposed.
My father held my jacket in his hands with torn sleeves and an obvious knife cut through my uncle’s Q.
Quinntessa’s curls were soaked. They poured with water as she was held up from the large basin of water beside Victor. Her face was bright red, the star on her face ripped open and bleeding freely. Her hands were bound behind her back, eyes filled with worry.
She was the one close to drowning. I was just pretending.
“You always got to make things hard on me?” Papa asked, hands tucked behind his back. He stopped in front of me and swayed side to side, taking a small glance behind him to Quinntessa. “And for what? A little pussy?”
“More than you’ve gotten in years, I hear.”
I shot Quinntessa a look and pushed myself up onto my elbows. Pain exploded through my already-burning ribcage as Papa’s boot came down on my side.
“You had to pick the worst one? The daughter of our enemy? The man who nearly destroyed us!” Papa shouted. “I’ve spent years making you into a great leader—you throw it away for this brat?”
His heel came down on me again, then another heavy stomp to my shoulders, making sure I stayed down.
“No, no!” Quinntessa screamed. “Don’t hurt her. Please. You wanted to kill me, not her! Please, stop!”
My cheek pressed into the concrete. I felt his boot on the back of my neck, holding me down with part of his weight.
I took the chance to take in how many people were around us.
Six or seven guys. Fuck. Fuck. This was starting to feel impossible.
My eyes closed as Papa screamed about how disappointed he was in me. His words were nothing I hadn’t heard before. I grunted each time his boot stomped down on me, opening my eyes to see Quinntessa fighting against the men holding her.
If I died, they’d drown her.
“You’re not even going to make it a fair fight,” I spat, turning my head to look up at my father. “You that worried your daughter will beat you? A woman? You have to have me tied up to feel powerful?”
“To feel powerful?” Papa laughed hysterically.
He teetered above me and stepped away. I pushed up and took the chance to breathe through the pain. My eyes followed his movements as he rounded back around to the water tank and grabbed Quinntessa by the hair.
She yelped as Papa wrenched her head back. I flared my nostrils and tried to stand, shimming the ties on my wrists loose.
“You know what makes me feel powerful, Eleanor?” He looked down at Quinntessa and smirked. “Revenge.”
“You know?” Milo dropped his backpack on the ground. “I like that shit too.”
Papa threw Quinntessa into the water by her hair and stared directly into my eyes. I broke free from my restraints as Milo whipped out both Oscar’s handgun and mine from under his shirt.
He fired two shots at a time. I hoped Milo had enough aim not to hit me as I dove forward toward my father.
Maddox dropped Quinntessa’s hips into the water and turned to block me. He grabbed me around the waist and tossed me to the floor. His foot kicked out, opening his legs far enough for me to nail a rapid knee to his groin.
He shouted in pain, his open mouth splattering blood on the wall as my fist rounded into his cheek.
Maddox grabbed my leg as I hopped over him. He tugged me down by my jeans and ripped off my combat boots. My Halloween socks were muddy and soaked from walking through the river. I was sure I had a disgusting trench foot developing, among the many healing scars from burning my flesh.
I rocketed my foot into his nose twice and grunted in pain each time. It was unavoidable to feel like I was stepping on a Lego. I guess Quinntessa’s jab wasn’t that far off.
Fuck, Quinntessa.
Markus’ body was lying on the floor, multiple bullet holes in different directions. He struggled to take hair into his lungs, sputtering blood from his mouth. I didn’t give two fucks. He took Quinntessa’s breath away, and only I got to do that.
There was a rule in the mob: protect our authority at all costs. Our pakhan. Our dark father who gave us such freewill to get away with these crimes. We protected them first. No one was allowed to touch them.
Because they had power.
Power.
It was all about fucking power.
My fingers wrapped around the metal bar usually used to tighten rope during torture sessions in the stalls. I took one step and sliced it across my body, bashing the end of the bar into my father’s cheek.
He stumbled back from the trough and released Quinntessa’s hair to reach for his face.
Quinntessa coughed out water the second her body touched the pavement. I grabbed her under the arms and pulled her into one of the horse stalls, pushing the door closed behind her.
Victor swung his gun at my head, clipping me from the side. I stumbled back into the trough’s side. I caught my footing and grabbed the pole beside me, blocking his neck hit and knocking his gun out of his hand. His elbow jabbed into my breast, fist nailing me in the nose.
I groaned in pain as my tailbone connected with the wet floor, water and blood underneath me.
“What’s wrong, Quincy?” Victor laughed. “Tired of fighting for your little bitch yet?”