CHAPTER 14 CADEN
CADEN
I banged my head pretty hard during that fall.
When I came back upstairs and the boys saw me swaying, Fiz made me up a bag of ice and demanded I sit with it the rest of the evening.
It’s not my skull that hurts. It’s this foreign guilt twisting my stomach into nauseating bunches that’s making me sick.
Sure, stuffing her in my basement, which also serves as a morgue, with a shock collar on might be overkill, but I lost it.
I just fucking lost it and I didn’t know what else to do to make her stop.
That whining, those teary eyes. We’re so lucky we didn’t break anything down those steps, although my ribs feel a bit off.
Not that I’m about to tell them that and have them fuss over me more.
It wasn’t just that. Milo had got back to me and couldn’t find any proof about any rumours about her, it’s just word of mouth.
She had a shitty upbringing and never had any friends.
The girl’s pathetic. And it made me mad that she’s fighting off the one good thing that could come to her.
She could have a good life here and she’s refusing. It’s driving me insane already.
Fiz and Alf have crowded me on the sofa, sitting too close to let me breathe easily, despite my insistence that I’m absolutely fine.
“This isn’t looking too good, buddy,” Fiz says.
They didn’t comment when I told them what I did with her. It’s certainly not the worst thing I’ve done to another person, but they seem to like her, Alf especially. I was expecting a little beratement at my dramatic punishment.
“You can’t keep on doing this with her,” Alf says, “if it’s this bad, you can’t take a lifetime of it. You’re going to have to come to some sort of agreement.”
“There’s no agreeing with her. There wasn’t any leeway before this, so now?” I say and trail off. There’s no way she’s going to comply after locking her in a room full of dead bodies.
Alfie clasps his hands together and rests his head on them. “You’ve got to think of something.”
Fiz jumps in with the enthusiasm of a child. “Why don’t you make a bet?”
I sigh, not having the energy to indulge him right now. “Fiz.”
“No, seriously, why don’t you bet something with her? If she loses, she has to stay and behave. Suck your cock at the click of a finger. And if she wins, she can go.”
“Fiz, I can’t let her go, can I? Do you not think if I had any choice in this marriage she’d already be gone?”
Fiz just chuckles. “Obviously, dummy. You make a bet she can’t win. Duh.”
Alfie lifts his head. “That actually might work.”
I let my head drop onto the back of the couch. “What makes you think she’ll uphold her end of the deal when she loses?”
Alfie sighs. “You just make her life as much of a hell as you can. She’ll soon come to her senses. Realise she’ll never get out so might as well stop fighting it. Won’t be hard, just make her sleep in bed with you every night. That’ll make her reevaluate her objectives.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’m not that fucking bad.”
Alf chuckles. “No, not like that. Each time I’ve gone into your room to get her, she’s been lying on the floor. Has an aversion to mattresses, apparently.”
My head flips upside down, launched back years to my time in the military. After a year of sleeping on cots and rocks, I couldn’t bear the softness of a mattress for months. Is that what Elodie’s been going through, has she not even had a bed in her own home?
I haven’t slept in my own bed since she arrived. Haven’t dared to be that close to her. I assumed she’d be in the bed, not on the damn floor.
I blow out a long breath, bringing myself back before the flashbacks kick off again. “Making her sleep on a bed would only be the tip of the iceberg if she didn’t uphold her end.”
Fiz chimes in. “Don’t worry about that for now, just focus on thinking what you could convince her to do.
Make the stakes something she can’t refuse.
Offer her loads of money to get going with, offer her a one-way ticket to the other side of the world or something.
Just make the bet something she could never win. ”
A lightbulb goes off in my head. “I think I might know just the thing.”
***
I leave her down there for the night, let her think about her actions, in the probably futile hope it’d crack her unyielding spirit, perhaps make her more amenable by morning.
I went back to my own room to sleep, a spare bedroom doesn’t provide the same comfort as your own sanctuary.
I collapsed into bed, head still spinning.
Even though I knew now she doesn’t sleep in there, that sweet scent of hers was everywhere.
She suffocates me with it every time I’m near her, but she wasn’t even in the room and I could smell it. It clung to the air and invaded my body with every breath I took. I groaned and shoved my head under the pillow and remained like that until morning.
Looking at me, you wouldn’t think I slept in my own bed. My eyes are still bloodshot, sunken over purple sacs. I look dead this morning. Elodie probably looks worse though. Every now and then I buzzed her collar, just to remind her why she was there.
I have breakfast with the boys before going down to her, Fiz and Alf following closely at my heels.
Once we reach the basement, I turn the light on for the first time since I brought her down here.
I peer through the glass door, expecting to see a mess, everything skewwhiff from a tantrum or something.
But it’s still in the same condition I left it in a couple of days ago.
The workstations have every instrument perfectly aligned along the surface, just how I like it.
Perhaps she was too scared to even move.
I peer down at the other side of the glass, where she’s still huddled up in a little ball. She looks so small. Has she moved once?
I tap a knuckle on the glass. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
She doesn’t move. I click the button on the little remote and buzz the collar. She still doesn’t move. Shit.
“Is she alive?” Alf asks from behind.
“She looks pretty fucking dead to me,” Fiz mutters.
I punch in the code for the door and the bolts whir open. I throw the door open and drop to my knees, heart rate increasing by the second. Alf and Fiz come round the back of me, watching her.
“Elodie?” I say.
Her blonde hair’s spilled across her face, her hands curled up into her chest, knees pulled up to meet them.
I tentatively reach out a hand to check for a pulse.
I sweep some hair off her neck and see dried blood where the collar should be.
My heart does a weird flip in my chest. I don’t have time to look for the collar or question what just happened in my body, as her hands come away from her chest, one flying towards me and I only get a flash of light reflecting off some kind of metal before a sharp pain explodes in my arm.
I fall back with a growl while Elodie leaps up.
She’s a blur of black and white as she hurls herself out the door.
Stupid girl could have locked us in here to give herself some time, but she’s too caught up on her little escape plan she leaves the door wide open and Fiz and Alfie are after her a split second later.
Knowing she won’t get far, I look down at my forearm. The little devil stabbed me with a fucking scalpel. Lucky really, that’s such a small instrument, could have been a lot worse. I look around and spot the shock collar across the room. She’d sawed through it.
I grip my arm, holding my hand over the gash to try to stem the bleeding while I head back up the steps.
I find them halfway up the stairs, Alfie pinning her back to his front, arms locked around her waist, while she kicks and screams. She’s swinging the scalpel manically while Fiz dodges each slash of the blade, trying to find an opening to disarm her.
I march up the steps, reaching Fiz’s side, and as soon as she swipes left to right, I grab her wrist when she swings it to the left again. My blood-coated hand splatters against her skin.
“Enough,” I say firmly.
Fiz grabs the scalpel, wrenching it free from her grasp.
I force the adrenaline to calm down. I can’t blame her, the girl’s got a lot of fight in her, even if it’s at my expense.
I’m quite impressed, really. I may want an easy ride, but taming this creature might prove to be amusing after all.
I haven’t come across a woman this resilient in a long time.
Perhaps ever. Fiz might be right, a challenge might be fun.
“Take her to the living room.” I lead the way up the rest of the steep steps. I grab a towel from the kitchen as we pass and wrap it messily around my arm for the time being.
All three of our dogs come to check me out once we reach the lounge. I reassure them and they disperse, hovering around the chairs, keeping close. Alfie carries a weeping Elodie towards us.
“Sit her down.” I point to the sofa.
She continues to resist, but as soon as she sees Sarge approach her, she freezes in Alfie’s arms.
“Your best bet is to just sit still next to me, El,” Alf says.
She does, her eyes wild with fear, chest heaving in heavy pants.
Once everyone’s settled and I’ve got my rage under control and my vision clears a bit, I see her neck clearly for the first time. Smeared in blood, crusted and a brownish red. She could have slit her throat getting that collar off.
Dismissing the grisly thought and the odd nausea that comes with it, I start speaking. “I’m willing to look past this little debacle, Elodie, and show you I can be a nice man.” She doesn’t take her eyes off Sarge, who’s staring at her by the foot of the sofa. “I’m willing to offer you a deal.”
She finally whips her eyes to me. “No, you’re not.”