27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Martina
I haven’t seen Vincent in over twenty-four hours. That should be a good thing.
But I’m on edge thinking he’ll walk in at any moment, so he might as well be here.
My meals felt lonely eating alone. I’m bored. That’s what it is. I don’t actually want Vincent’s company.
It’s not like he’s actually a changed man. Sure, there might be the outward show of someone who developed a conscience.
Today, Helen came with more clothes. I’m wearing a lovely sundress that was from the new items. She also asked what I wanted to eat, saying they could get sushi from Hanami Garden again.
But a conscience doesn’t grow out of thin air. You had to have had one to begin with, and there’s just no way Vincent had one.
Sitting in one of the recliners, I stare out the window. It’s a beautiful vista, but I still can’t fully appreciate it. I feel lost and confused. My body’s reaction to Vincent even after I’ve taken the omega blockers mystifies and scares me. I had to have gotten a bad batch of pills. This morning I contemplated taking a double dose again, but I don’t want Vincent to make good on this threat and take them away.
Maybe my body has been conditioned to come for Vincent? Like Pavlov’s dog.
At least I should be able to focus better, now that my heat has been suppressed. My mission is to send Vincent to hell, I remind myself. Since I don’t know what’s happened to Brady, I’ve got to assume it’s all on me. I don’t want to wait to be sold to some pimp, and I can’t expect that Vincent will continue this better treatment of me. He may change his mind tomorrow and shoot me dead because he found a more interesting fuck doll to torment.
Hearing the sound of the door swing open with force, I scramble out of my chair to see that it’s Vincent. My heart leaps. He looks a little disheveled, like he was up all night. He only has on an undershirt for a top and he’s carrying. A handgun fits snug in the holster at his side.
But the part that strikes me the most: he does not look happy.
And he’s going to take it out on me.
He advances toward me. I back away.
I knew it. He’s back to being Mr. Hyde. Is this the end? Is he going to kill me? I know I thought about death not too long ago, but I had started to feel rejuvenated. Vincent had challenged my commitment to kill him. Now that I’m in a better place, giving up would be wimpy.
“You almost succeeded again,” he says, staring at me as if his glare can pin me to my spot. “You and your buddy.”
I continue maintaining the distance between us, but I don’t think I can keep it up. The suite feels so much smaller. Where in the world can I run? What can I use to protect myself?
He gets closer. “But if you’re going to try and kill me, you better succeed.”
Why is he bringing this up? I try to put the bed between us, as if that’s actually an effective barrier.
He starts walking around the bed toward me. “Especially on the second try.”
“What— What are you talking about?”
“Your little stunt on Trinidad.”
I stare at him like he’s crazy.
“Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with it,” he says. “Are you going to give all the credit to your friend? You think he can take the consequences for the both of you?”
“What happened on Trinidad?” I ask, stalling him so I can come up with an escape plan. Only I’ve spent hours trying to before without coming up with anything.
“Shouldn’t you know?”
What is he accusing me of? I stammer, “I don’t know. I’ve been locked here the whole time. You know that.”
“So you’re going to let your friend take all the blame. Not much a friend then. Was he ever more than a friend?”
My eyes widen. Does Vincent know about Brady?
But I don’t have time to contemplate the answer because Vincent has rounded the corner of the bed. Any second and he’ll be within arm’s reach.
Attempting to make a mad dash for the door, I scramble over the bed. But he’s quick as a panther, lunging toward me and grabbing my throat.
We land on the bed with him atop me. His grasp tightens, constricting the airflow. Suddenly I’m back beneath the wet cloth with water pouring over my face, threatening to make me drown on dry land. I desperately claw at his hand and arm as panic fills every pore of my body.
His grip lightens enough for a sob to come through me. I start crying. I don’t want to die this way. Why didn’t I die with my family? Bella, please help me…
I’m sobbing so hard I don’t see the change in Vincent’s face. He hauls me up and wraps his arms around me, holding me as my body quakes and I fight my own sobs just to breath.
“Shhh…shhh…” he comforts.
I barely hear him through the hyperventilation, except…is that Bella?
It’s her libretto, only I don’t understand the words.
“Hǎo yī duǒ měilì de mòlihuā.”
But it’s her tune. I try to calm my crying to hear it.
“Fēn fāng měilì mǎn zhī yā.”
Yes, yes! It’s the libretto, only in a different language.
“Yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā…Ràng wǒ lái jiāng nǐ zhāi xià.”
Tears still stream down my face, but I can breathe.
“Sòng gěi biérén jiā.”
The tune is so pretty, so pretty.
“Mòlihuā ya mòlihuā.”
Vincent sings it over again. I melt into the song. My body still quivers, but at least it’s not heaving. My breath is shaky, but I don’t feel like I’m going to suffocate anymore. I feel like a small child curled on his lap with my head against his chest.
My brain comes back online. For whatever reason, Vincent’s being caring at this moment. It can change in a second. I seem to trigger him like nothing. I should take advantage of this opportunity. My gaze drifts to the gun.
But it actually feels so good to be in his arms.
Are you crazy?! This is probably what domestic abuse victims go through. Don’t fall for it!
That’s right. Vincent isn’t capable of truly caring about anyone. He’s only using me.
Before I let the seduction of his embrace change my mind, I grab for the gun and free it from the holster. Vincent’s hand immediately clamps over mine.
Fuck. I’m done for .
I stare into his eyes, expecting to see rage on a whole new level. But he looks almost stone cold. His gaze penetrates deep into me.
“Would it give you peace to kill me?” he asks.
Yes! Peace! And freedom!
I don’t know why I think he’s asking this question sincerely. It’s an odd question for him to be asking me in the first place. He knows the answer anyway.
His hand still over mine, he moves the muzzle of the gun over his heart. My hand shakes so hard I might drop the gun if it weren’t for his steady and firm grasp. Why is he doing this?
Dio mio! Pull the trigger!
“Go on,” Vincent says softly.
I feel a hundred thoughts filling my head.
He’s just taunting you.
He’s testing you so he can punish you a hundredfold afterward.
He actually means it. He is capable of caring .
That’s crazy. He can’t.
Do it. Do it for Bella. For your family. For yourself. This man deserves to die.
But there’s a strange connection between us. I can’t explain it. I feel…
Stop being such a fool!
“Find your peace, Martina Rossi.”
At the sound of my name, I pull the trigger.
The crack of the gunshot reverberates in my ear before I realize what I’ve done. Blood seeps through his shirt in an instant. His hand drops from mine.
I whip around as the door slams open. I immediately release another shot and manage to hit Cho. He stumbles backward.
My body is on autopilot. Gun in hand, I race into the hallway. I don’t know how I managed to get past Cho, but I don’t stop running. Every second, I expect footsteps to pound behind me, to tackle me. But, miraculously, I make it all the way down to the garage where the tender is stored.
My mind races as I stare at the davit system. I take in a deep breath. Calm down. Brady showed you how to deploy the tender in case we could escape.
There’s actually a simple switch to operate the davit and lower the tender into the water. I board the boat, undo the line securing it to the yacht, and start the engine. I back the vessel from the yacht and turn it towards land. A hail of bullets might follow me, but I don’t have other choices.
Surprisingly, my escape goes without a hitch. I drive the vessel onto a beach. A man yells at me to say I can’t do that and that I could injure someone. Ignoring him, I get out and start running. I have to get as far from Vincent and his people as possible.
Once I make it off the beach and onto the street, it hurts to run because I don’t have shoes on. But I push forward. Where I should go, I’m not sure. I could go to the cops, but what if they detain me? I could be a sitting duck for Vincent’s people. Or what if I’m jailed for murder?
Better to lay low. At least find a quiet place to think things through before taking any drastic action.
I walk past brightly painted facades, intricate murals, and graffiti art without seeing them. The smell of jerk chicken from the street vendors and the sounds of reggae from people selling music don’t register for me. My heart is still beating fast because nowhere looks safe. I get some weird looks and realize there’s splashes of blood on my dress.
Stepping into a cafe, I find the restroom and see there’s droplets of blood on my face and neck as well. Vincent’s blood. I can’t believe I shot him. I finally did it.
I killed Vincent Xu.
But I don’t feel any sense of accomplishment or any of the euphoria I thought I would at having avenged the death of my family.
After cleaning myself up, I walk out.
“Would you like a table now, miss?” asks a server.
“Sorry, I changed my mind,” I mumble .
A few steps outside of the cafe, I bump into Juan, a shorter man in his twenties. He was on staff with me and Brady, one of the janitorial custodians. He seems to recognize me, but the dress is throwing him off because I had posed as a young man named Ramon.
“Julio!” I greet. “You’re—”
Not dead is what I almost say. This is a good sign.
“What happened to everyone?” I ask him. “Where’s Brady? I mean Ben?”
Juan regards me quizzically, as if he’s remembering something. “You were not with us.”
I put my hands on his shoulders. “Where’s Ben?”
His face darkens and he shakes his head.
“You know where he is! Please tell me!”
Again he shakes his head. He looks around himself.
“Please!” I beg.
“I don’t know. This was a few days ago. They took us all to a big empty building to ask us questions. I heard… I—I say no more.”
I grab his arm. “I’m not letting go until you tell me.”
Juan looks torn. “You better to not know. Is not good.”
“Please tell me!” I plead, drawing looks our way.
Juan sighs and lowers his voice. “I heard a man talking to Ben. He said to Ben, ‘you tell us or we kill your girlfriend in front of you.’ Then they hit him. Many times.”
My heart sinks. “Then what?”
“I think another man said to bring him back onto the yacht.”
“And?”
But Juan jerks himself out of my grasp and hurries away before I can ask him anything else.
“Wait! Juan!”
I chase after him but he gets out his keys and hops onto a scooter. He nearly runs me over as he drives away. I stare after him, devastated.
What have they done to Brady? Is he still alive? Is he still in a “big empty building” or is he back on the yacht?
Coming off from the adrenaline rush, I start to feel tired. I sit down on a bench overlooking the sea. Thoughts continue to swirl around in my head while my body feels numb.
Somewhere out on the water sits Vincent’s yacht. By some miracle, I was able to make it off that vessel after shooting Vincent. I survived. I’m free.
And yet, because Brady might be on that yacht, I’m going to have to go back.
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