52. Ariyan #3
My eyes widened with fear, and scared of the words to come out of his mouth next, I held my breath.
“Santiago Rivas. He seems like a good man.” He tsked, shaking his head. “What a shame.”
A sense of fear I’d yet to experience in my life before gripped me from within, dread so strong it left me paralyzed at the mere thought of this vile man doing anything to Santiago.
“W-what did you do?”
“Nothing… yet.” He checked his watch. “But in a few minutes, the police will raid that French bastard’s club with everyone in it, including him, as well as your sweet boxer.”
As if all the air was sucked out of the room, I stared at him, eyes wide and filled with contempt. Pure and utter hatred toward this devil, whom I was fool enough to make a deal with.
“I can only assume that with his record, your friend, or should I say, lover?” He raised one brow. “Will be sent away for a very, very long time.”
Thinking about Santiago, a wave of nausea swept over me, and I felt like falling apart. But I couldn’t, not when he was in danger.
“You can’t do that,” I hissed.
“Of course I can. But first, you must tell me, does he even know who you are?”
My fists tightened, keeping the rage at bay.
“At the very least, tell me you’ve told that poor guy your name, or does this fool still call you Ariyan?”
Fear settled in my bones like ice, and I bit my tongue. But all of that didn’t matter, not now, not until he was safe.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Alejandro sneered, blocking my path after I took a step.
Ignoring him, I turned to face Eduardo, getting on my knees before him.
“Please.” I never thought I’d beg him for anything ever again, yet there I was, on my knees, both hands on the floor. “Punish me all you want, but he’s not at fault. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, just let me warn him.”
“And why would I do that?”
Why? I dropped my stare to the floor as moments from last night passed before me, starting from his wide smile down to his warm embrace and, mostly, his heart, so good and pure, it made me believe a man like me could actually be loved.
“Because he’s not like us.” I swallowed hard. “He’s a good man.”
“Not like us?”
I closed my eyes, taking another deep breath. “He’s—”
A fierce blow to my head paralyzed me, and I fell to my side, blood already pouring down my face as my vision swam for a few seconds.
But trying not to lose consciousness, I focused my eyes on Eduardo’s shoes and the walking stick he’d just busted my head open with.
With my sole goal set on reaching Santiago, I tried to get up, only to be pounded again.
I crumpled to the floor, my blood getting on the carpet while my lips parted in a grunt of pain right before he trod on my hand with the sharp end of his walking cane, which was shaped like a knife.
I bit my lips until I bled, only so I wouldn’t scream at the pain of the spear cutting through skin and tissue and sticking into my flesh.
“All these years, and you still don’t get that you’re just another whore in this brothel.”
He put more pressure on my hand, and I gritted my teeth so hard I feared they’d break.
“Maybe now, you finally will.”
He pulled the stick out, but not before twisting it, and I immediately brought my hand close to my chest. Trembling, I pressed on the open wound, trying to stop the excessive bleeding.
“Alejandro,” Eduardo said, and with blurry vision, I watched him wipe my blood off his cane. “Call the ambassador back and tell him tonight is on the house.”
My breath hitched in terror.
“In fact, check if any of our other clients would like to try our highly talented manager. And if they aren’t persuaded, tell them he comes with years of experience.”
Tears pooled in my eyes. But refusing to let them see my cry, I clenched my jaw, fighting the pain and sorrow.
“Yes, sir. Gladly.”
Whatever they were saying, it didn’t matter, as Santiago was in much greater danger, meaning I had to get to him.
Me? I deserved all of this, and probably much more.
For years, all I’d done was hurt others, so could you blame fate for finally getting back at me?
But he only meant good. He’d said more than once that he wanted to be better, and I selfishly ignored it for my own whims, but not anymore.
I attempted to stand, but the floor spun, and I fell right back, slipping in my own blood.
Someone grabbed me, and I tried to push them away as my vision worsened.
“N-no—”
To think I believed I was past the phase of using this useless word.
“Oh, and Alejandro, please inject him with something to make him a bit more cooperative.”
I bit my lip and shook my head, trying to fight the hands holding me.
My miserable life was so pitiful that I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry at this point. Only last night, I felt so safe in his arms, and now, it was nothing but a fever dream.
“S-Santia—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just shut up already,” someone said before they punched me, and I swore I could feel my brain rattling inside my skull right as my eyes rolled back and it all turned…
Dark.