Chapter 38
Katarina
Consciousness returns as a series of sharp pulses in my eyes. When I open them, I'm no longer on the floor. I am flat on my back, the mattress beneath me thin and smells of moist wool. I try to reach the side of my face that is throbbing with pain, but the hemp ropes bite on my wrists.
No.
My arms are restrained above my head in a painful angle—the sockets of my injured shoulder scream under the tension.
I start to buck against the bed and realize that cords are coiled tight around my ankles, too tight, that I can’t feel my feet anymore.
I tilt my head, and the room starts spinning. When I look up, the ceiling feels like it is unhinging from the walls. A surge of bile pushes to the back of my throat. Then, a massive pressure builds behind my teeth, urging me to scream until I see him.
Julian is sitting in a wooden chair to my right. He isn’t moving. His arms crossed over his chest. He’s staring at me with profound disappointment—as if I am the one who has failed him.
“Julian,” My throat is so dry it feels like I swallowed pieces of broken glass. “Untie me!”
“I’m sorry, Kat. I can’t do that,” he says slowly, his voice devoid of the tenderness he used to wrap around me like a blanket. “I won’t do that.”
“Please,” I sob, the tears leaking into my ears as I yank the ropes helplessly. “Just untie me. We can talk about this. I’ll listen.”
“You’ll learn,” he says softly, his eyes piercing into mine.
Then he stands up. He watches me cry for a moment before turning around and walking out.
I lie there, drowning in the sound of my sobs and the crashing of the waves in the distance.
∞∞∞
Two hours later
Julian reenters the room carrying a small bowl and a candle. The yellow flame casts dancing shadows upon the stone walls. He pulls the chair to the side of the bed and sits, looking exhausted.
I force my muscles to go limp and swallow the scream that wanted to come out. Then, I soften my expression.
I need him to trust me.
I need his obsession to be my leverage.
“Julian,” I murmur, summoning my acting skills. “I’m just... I’m so tired of being afraid of everyone.”
He pauses, the spoon hovering over the bowl.
He doesn’t respond.
“Ah—I, I need you to talk to me.” I use the softest voice I could muster without throwing up and plead. “I’m so afraid.”
He settles the bowl down on the floor and reaches for my face.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He murmurs, his eyes locking into mine.
I lock my eyes with his and cry. Leaning my head into his hand as he reaches out. I look up at him through my lashes, letting tears track down my cheeks.
“Everyone lied to me. Damiano... he never meant anything he said. But you’ve always been there. And you, you lied to me… and you’re the only one I had left.” I stutter in between sobs, trying to look as pathetic as I can.
I see his throat work as he swallows. He wants to believe it so badly, but he’s not completely sold.
“Are you going to hurt me, too?” I say in a breathy voice, showing how fragile I am, and press my lips to his palm.
His eyes glistened in the candlelit room, and I knew I did it.
He’s hooked.
He leans in, his breathing turning shallow, but he hesitates.
I know what I had to do. I press my lips to his. Immediately, I feel disgusted with myself. But he breaks. He leans into me, his hands harsh as he strokes my hair.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue forcing entry to my lips.
“I love you, Kat,” he gasps against my mouth. “You have to learn how to love me back. I’m your best chance at survival.”
His words send a chill down my spine, but I don’t break character.
“Then untie me, please,” I plead, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I can’t breathe like this. I want to touch you.”
He pulls back, eyes flying to my wrists above my head. For a heartbeat, he seems to reach for his pocket. Then, he stops, shaking his head.
“No. Not yet. I don’t trust you.”
My heart drops thinking he’ll leave again.
Instead, he kneels on one knee on the side of the cot, leaning down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of my neck, his kisses turning frantic. I feel his hands move to the hem of my nightdress, hiking the fabric up to my waist, and the revulsion I’ve been burying surges up like acid.
“Julian,” I say, my eyes bulging.
He doesn’t listen.
He’s lost in his own world, his weight crushing the air from my lungs as he positions himself on top of me.
“Julian, don’t.” I plead, unable to hide the panic in my voice anymore.
The man I thought I knew is gone, replaced by a panting stranger. He ignores my pleas, his movements turning violent as he wrenches the fabric of my dress. I hear the silk scream before it gives way.
I gasp as the dress’s strap tears and falls off my shoulder, exposing my breasts to his predatory gaze. I try to twist away, to hide myself, but the ropes keep me restrained, bared for him.
“You’re so perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick and unrecognizable. “I’ve waited so long for this.” His eyes skim down my chest.
“No, please, no.” My voice trembles as I lie there helpless.
His hand moves lower, tracing the line of my hip. When his fingers hook into the lace of my underwear, slide inside, and touch my sensitive spot in a circular motion as his other hand cups my jaw, forcing me to look at him, the last thread of my endurance snaps.
All the pretense vanishes in a wave of pure horror.
“STOP IT! GET OFF ME!” A scream tears at my throat.
“Shhh, you’ll like it.” He whispers before biting my ear. I thrash with a strength I didn’t know I had, the ropes digging into the skin.
“Get off me!” I scream.
He flinches back for a second, then his face contorts with a savage, ugly fury.
“Why?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave. “Because I’m not him? Are you still thinking of him?”
“I hate you!” I roar, the truth erupting from me like a volcanic burst. “I’m in love with him! Do you hear me? I love him! Not you. Never you! I will never love you!”
He pins me down, his hands slamming into the mattress on either side of my head, seething. His nostrils flare, his eyes turn into black pits.
“I saved you,” he says, voice shaking from anger. “I killed for you. I threw everything away for you, and you still want that motherfucker?”
I killed for you.
My stomach turns, the world momentarily freezing as a piece of the past finally slots into place.
The night of the attack.
The way the gunmen seemed to enter our home so easily.
“Killed for me?” I repeat in a terrified whisper.
I look into his eyes, searching for the lie, but I only find a dark, gleaming pride. His lips twitch to one side. “It was you. Mateo. You were the reason he was killed. You set it up.”
Julian doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look ashamed. He tilts his head to the right, his left hand wrapping around my throat.
“He was a distraction,” he says, “He was never going to let you go. He would have kept you hidden in that pathetic penthouse forever. I had to make sure that when the time came, you could run to me.”
“You monster,” I scream once again, the grief comes back fresh and agonizing, mixing with the terror. “You murdered him. And you let me cry in your arms!”
“I did it for us!” His voice bellows, grip tightening around my throat, slowly cutting my oxygen.
“You’re sick!” I snap, my voice cracking through the tears.
Julian’s face twists into something unrecognizable.
“You think Damiano still wants you?” he snarls. “You think he’ll find you beautiful after I’m done with you?”
I twist, I kick, I pull at the ropes until my wrists feel like they’re being flayed alive. I scream until my throat bleeds, but he doesn’t stop. He pins my head back so hard my neck feels like it will snap.
He forces his mouth onto mine in a disgusting attempt at a kiss.
I bite down—hard, until I taste his blood.
He growls, pulling back and wiping his mouth. The look in his eyes isn’t obsession anymore—just pure hatred.
“Puta,” he hisses.
Then he swings.
The impact hits my jaw with a loud thud. My head snaps to the side, the world exploding into a flash of white light. Before I can even gasp, he hits me again—a heavy blow above my ear, and then another to my ribs that knocks the breath from my chest.
He backhands me, splitting my lip. He delivers one final, savage strike to my temple.
The world blurs, and I realize that no one is coming.
There is no beach in Mexico, no rescue from Damiano, and no mercy from this man, whom I thought was my friend.
The darkness rushes in like a tide, heavy and cold.
As the last of the light flickers out, I know it with a terrifying certainty.
This is it.
This is how I die.