Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Hallie
I jolt awake, the cold bite of concrete seeping into my skin. My eyes flicker open to half-light, shadows clinging to the space around me like cobwebs. I'm lying on the floor, wrists and ankles chafing against rough bindings. Panic claws up my throat, sharp and sudden, but I swallow it down, refuse to let it consume me.
“Silas,” I whisper, his name a lifeline in the darkness. It's all wrong here—no cozy warmth of my sunlit apartment, no minimalist opulence of Silas’s penthouse. Just the scent of rust and dampness, and an echo of something sinister.
My heart hammers, each beat a staccato rhythm against my chest. But I steady my breathing, force my mind to focus. Think, Hallie, think. Silas is out there, I know it. He's the storm on the horizon, relentless, unforgiving. He'll find me.
“Si,” I try again, louder this time, certain he's listening, even from miles away. The sound bounces off the walls, a testament to the emptiness around me. I picture him in his penthouse, eyes like green fire, senses razor-sharp as he plots his next move. I imagine his voice, measured and precise, cutting through the fog of my fear.
He taught me how to be resilient, showed me that even in the face of danger, hope can be a weapon. I refuse to be broken by the dark, to let fear snuff out the flame inside me.
Shifting slightly, I test the ropes binding my hands. They're tight, but not enough to stop the defiant pulse of my blood. I won't give up. Not when I have so much to fight for, not when Silas is out there, somewhere, moving heaven and earth to get to me.
“Comfortable, Hallie?”
His voice slithers through the darkness—a whisper made of ice and malice. Blake steps into the dim circle of light cast by a single, dangling bulb.
“Blake?” His name comes out as a whisper, my throat dry. “You're the one behind this.”
He's the nightmare that betrayed us, his blue eyes reflecting the cruelty of his smile.
“Guilty,” he drawls, circling me like a shark sensing blood in the water. “Well, sort of. I have a benefactor. Or several. It’s hard to know who exactly you’re dealing with when it comes to the Syndicate, but they were very excited to work with me.”
“You’re a fucking traitor. Silas trusted you.”
“Yeah well, I’m a killer. You shouldn’t trust a killer, Hallie.” He walks toward me, squatting down to look at me closer. “I've watched you and Si play house, so sickeningly sweet. You never even noticed me, did you? The perfect little teacher and the big, bad assassin.”
I stare him down, refusing to blink, even as my stomach knots with fear. “Sending me the rosary . . . You wanted to throw us off, didn't you?”
“Bravo,” he claps mockingly. “A red herring. And you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. While Silas had everyone wasting their time looking into Drago and some random church, I was gathering more intel for the Syndicate.”
“Silas will come for me.” It's not just hope; it's knowledge. Silas is relentless. Unforgiving. He'll turn over every stone, burn every bridge to find me.
“Let him try,” Blake sneers, leaning close enough that I can smell the mint on his breath. “It'll be his undoing.”
“Or yours.” I spit the words out, tasting defiance. “I won't be your pawn, Blake. I am not afraid of you.”
His laughter rings hollow in the cavernous space. But his eyes—those icy pits—don't laugh with him. They're calculating, probing for weakness.
“Keep telling yourself that, baby. We both know fear when we see it.”
“Then you're blinder than I thought.” I tighten my jaw, bracing for whatever comes next. If Silas has taught me anything, it's that sometimes the only way out is through.
“Defiant to the end.” Blake's admiration is laced with poison. “I can appreciate that. But it won't save you.”
“Who said anything about needing saving?” Each word is a challenge, a thrown gauntlet at his feet.
“Spoken like a true lover of a killer.” He pauses, his gaze lingering on me. “But let's see how long that spirit lasts.”
The air is thick with the scent of rust and neglect, a sharp contrast to the mint that lingered with his last words. My heart hammers in my chest as Blake's shadow looms over me, his presence chilling the already frigid warehouse air. The dim light from the lone bulb overhead flickers, casting an eerie glow on his chiseled features.
“Time's up, Hallie,” he whispers, the menace in his voice sending shivers down my spine. He moves closer, and I scramble backward, my wrists bleeding from my struggle.
“Stay away from me,” I hiss, my voice wavering despite my attempt at bravery. There's nowhere to go—the cold concrete wall presses against my back, trapping me.
“Feisty, aren't we?” Blake taunts, his lips curling into a sneer.
I feel his fingers graze my arm, and I react instinctively, lashing out with a desperate kick. My bound feet connect with his shin, and he stumbles back, his face contorting in anger.
“Fuck you, bitch!” His roar ricochets off the walls, filling the space with dread.
Blake recovers quickly, his blue eyes now dark with fury. He lunges at me, but I’m literally cornered, the wall rough and cold behind me.
“Your boyfriend isn't here to save you,” Blake snarls, grabbing for me again. This time, his hand catches my wrist, squeezing until I feel the bones grind together.
“Let go of me!” I cry out, tears stinging my eyes. I wrench my hands out of his grasp, and do the only thing I can with the tight proximity—scratch his face with as much force as I can muster.
“Vicious little thing,” he growls, pain twisting his handsome features into something monstrous. “I like that.”
I turn away from him, moving clumsily with my bindings but refusing to give in. Every breath is a gasp of defiance, each inch away from him a small victory in this horrifying dance.
“Silas will come for me,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “And when he does?—”
“Silas won't be your hero today, baby.” Blake advances, his confidence unshaken. “He doesn't even know where to start looking.”
My heart sinks. I refuse to let it show, but he’s right. Silas is brilliant and powerful, but Blake knows his every move. He would have planned for this, would have known how to avoid detection.
“Silas is so obsessed with you, Hallie. It really is his downfall. I thought for sure once he fucked you, he’d get the whole thing out of his system, but damn. You must have some golden tight cunt.”
Blake shoves his hand down my pants and I scream. He kisses me, his oddly cold tongue intruding in my mouth, making me gag. I try to pull away, try to scream.
“Enough, Hallie.” He brings his face to mine, inhaling and exhaling deeply against my skin. I flinch, but try my hardest to not let him see how it affects me. The more weakness I show, the more he’ll enjoy this. “Silas thought this cunt was good enough to lose his mind over, it’s time I try it out for myself.”
He pulls on my legs, flattening my back on the dirty ground. I cry out in pain, in anger, in fear. I try to kick him again, try to do anything to prevent this from happening. Suddenly, he's on top of me, his weight bearing down on me like the weight of the world.
“You fighting back will only make this better for me,” he says, his face alight with an evil grin.
Panic claws at my insides as Blake pins me down. I twist my hips, arching my back, but it's no use. His grip is like iron, his body a prison I cannot escape.
“Let go of me!” I scream, bucking underneath him. My kicks seem to excite him more, fueling the sick fire blazing in his eyes.
“Oh, Hallie, you're going to have to do better than that.” Blake's voice is a chilling purr, cold and menacing like the winter wind outside.
I claw at his hands, desperate to free myself from his vice-like grip, but it's no use. He's too strong and too determined to break me.
Blake's hands roam my body, his touch icy and calculating, in contrast to the heat that radiates from his skin. I recoil from his touch, but he only tightens his grip, as if my revulsion fuels his desire.
The vise-like rope tightens around my wrists as I pull with all my might, but instead of ripping them apart, I feel a bone in my left wrist snap, sending a white-hot agony through my entire body. I scream.
“Ah, I see you're finally warming up to me,” Blake sneers, his cold, predatory eyes boring into my very soul.
I bite my lip to stifle the sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my agony. My entire being screams for Silas, for the safety of his arms, the promise of his protection. But in this moment, I'm on my own.
My broken hand dangles limp at my side, but my other hand is still free. I ball it into a fist, gathering every ounce of my remaining strength to at least try to do as much damage as possible. I aim for his liver, one of the few areas I can reach that might do at least a little damage.
He grunts in pain, but it’s not enough. I’m losing hope.
“Enough, now.” He rises up and flips me over, my face slamming against the dirty floor. “I’m going to fucking own you, Hallie. I’m going to fuck Silas Thatcher’s girl and then I’m going to carve you up for him. I know how much he loves blood. This will make him smile.”
If I weren’t so terrified and angry, I’d probably be vomiting at the venomous words Blake is spewing. But I’m losing my fight. I can feel it. He grabs my hair, forcing me up, but then stops.
“Seems that Silas carved you up first, after all,” he says, running his fingers along the cut Silas made on me. He’s still for too long. Quiet.
I’m confused as to why Blake would care, why that would stop him, but I don’t have time to wonder.
A jolt of searing hot pain hits me in the back of the neck as Blake cuts my wound open again. I’m delirious from the pain, from my tears, from the shock of it all. I’m ready to give up. But then he pushes off me and I’m pulled to my feet again.
“Change of plans. Let’s go.”