Chapter Nineteen - Elise
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elise
“What. The hell. Is this?” Each of Joshua’s words is concise with barely contained rage.
The blood drains from my face, pure fear shooting through my veins and leaving me paralyzed.
He’s going to hurt me again.
Beyond the terror, I feel a warped sense of relief.
The note is real—that’s all I can think.
My father really knows where I am, and he really has a man on the inside.
Unfortunately, that truth doesn’t change the fact that I’m royally screwed right now.
I say exactly what’s on my mind. “It’s real?”
His brow furrows. “Elise, you have five seconds to explain before I drag you to the basement.”
I blink to clear my eyes of the haziness threatening to take over and place a hand over my heart.
“Five.”
I swallow, trying desperately to find my words.
“Four.”
My hands ball into fists, fingernails digging into my skin in an attempt to pull myself from my fear-induced paralysis.
“Three.”
“I—I don’t know!”
His eyes narrow to thin slits. “Not good enough. Two.”
My legs carry me backward until my back slams against the bathroom door, and I hold my hands protectively in front of me. “I found it a few days ago underneath a plate when someone brought me food! I wasn’t even sure if it was real until now!”
“I am going to ask you questions. You are going to answer them. Quickly and clearly. Do you understand me?”
I quickly nod but correct myself when his glare intensifies. “Yes! I understand!”
Still holding the note, Joshua folds his arms over his heaving chest. “When and where did you find the note?”
It’s difficult to process his request in my current state. I think back through memories that might be able to give me the answer, but all the days here have become a blur.
It’s only been a few seconds, but Joshua is low on patience.
“Elise,” he warns.
“I’m thinking!” What did I do after I found the note? The garden! “Two days ago! Before you took me to the garden. It was on my breakfast tray that morning.”
“Who brought your breakfast?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try harder,” he says through gritted teeth.
I choke on a sob. “Joshua, I swear, I had never seen him before, and I haven’t seen him since.
I’m not even sure I could pick him out of a crowd.
I wasn’t paying attention when he brought me my food—I didn’t have a reason to.
I thought I could get a better look when he came back, but then you came to take me to the garden.
Remember? You jokingly asked if I was expecting someone else.
Well, I was. But I swear that I don’t know who he was.
” I’m gasping for breath by the time I’ve finished rambling.
“What did you mean when you asked if it was real?”
“I thought, maybe, you faked the note,” I admit.
“And why would I do that?”
“If I thought my dad was coming to get me, I wouldn’t try to escape on my own.”
He steps toward me, and I tense.
“Please,” I squeak, but he hushes me with a hard glare.
Joshua doesn’t stop until we’re flush against one another. My hands, which were held out for my protection, are now pressing against his bare chest.
This isn’t exactly what I meant when I so badly wanted to touch him this morning.
His whole demeanor overwhelms my senses, and I want to crumble into a ball, but I can’t let my guard down—not again.
“What exactly was your plan?” His voice is a cruel whisper.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Did you really think your dad would just swoop in here and save you?” He scoffs. “Get it through your head, Elise. You’re never seeing your father again.”
His words cut like a knife, which I’m sure is exactly his intention, and I gasp for air as violent shudders take over my body.
Ryder swings the door open, not looking at all fazed by our closeness as he awaits instructions.
Joshua’s fiery stare stays locked on me, but his words are aimed at Ryder. “Take her to the basement.”
“No!” I yell, pushing Joshua’s chest away from me, but he doesn’t seem to notice my resistance.
Grabbing my shoulders, he spins me until I’m pressed face-first against the door. He holds my wrists together, taking a set of handcuffs from Ryder to secure me.
“Joshua, I promise I told you everything!”
Spinning me around to face him, he snarls, “Shut up, or I’ll have him gag you too.”
I’m unable to hide the intensity of the hurt, fear, and desperation that threaten to choke me, but it doesn’t matter.
Joshua’s eyes hold only unforgiving wrath.
“Joshua,” I say, but the pathetic plea dies in my throat.
His only response is to push me into Ryder’s arms.
Catching me before I stumble onto my ass, Ryder holds my shoulders tight, leading me out of the room. I throw one last desperate glance at Joshua, but he’s staring at the floor.
Ryder takes me away.
Without a clock, I’m not sure how long I’ve been in here. Long enough that my arms, which are strung above my head, have gone numb.
This is all my fault. I should’ve destroyed the note as soon as I got it. I just wanted to keep the small token of home.
But that’s not where I messed up.
I let myself trust Joshua, and I didn’t realize just how deep that trust went until this morning.
He made it clear on day one that he was the villain, but his mask was so beautiful it made me forget the monster beneath it. His sweet words and gentle caresses were nothing more than tools for manipulation. Again and again, I’ve fallen for his charm only to find myself helpless.
A door opens from behind me, and I tense, though I don’t have the energy to turn to see who it is. Footsteps echo off the concrete walls, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Something is wrong.
“Isn’t this a lovely sight?” Just hearing his cocky voice is enough to make me nauseous.
“Tripp,” I breathe.
“Did you miss me?” He steps around to face me, and though he’s not nearly as tall as Joshua, he still towers over me.
He flashes a demented smile when I don’t answer him. “I’ve missed you! Too bad I haven’t been around lately. Any idea why that was?”
Even from this distance, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I might not have a clock, but I know it’s way too early for hard liquor.
Tripp grips my chin, forcing me to shake my head. “No? Well, I’ll enlighten you. My title as capo was stripped because someone has loose lips.”
Joshua demoted Tripp for what he said about me? I knew he was mad about the comment, I was too, but a demotion?
I try to cringe away, but that only makes him tighten his hold on me.
“I have some ideas on how to put these lips to better use. What do you think?”
My lips twist in disdain, and he drops his hand from my chin. I use the time to focus on taking a deep breath, but I’m interrupted by a sharp stinging that snaps my head to one side.
He slapped me.
“I don’t like being ignored, brat,” he slurs, stepping so close that our bodies are pressed together.
“Go to hell,” I spit.
His laugh is maniacal. “Dirty mouth you got there. I’ve got just the thing for you.”
I writhe in my bonds, and he chuckles, strolling to the table of tortures. He grabs a large whip, and my breath catches in my throat.
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Right?
“No,” I rasp. “Joshua wouldn’t let you.”
He takes slow steps toward me, tapping the whip against his hand with a vile grin. “Who do you think sent me?”
With that, he rears his arm back and snaps the whip onto my back. I scream, but the pain is worse than I could’ve imagined. An agonizing sting ripples through my body, and I’m gasping for air, but it’s so much more than that.
Joshua sent him here? To do this?
I don’t want to believe it, but why shouldn’t I? Joshua has made it abundantly clear that I am a prisoner, and this is what happens to prisoners.
The whip comes down again and again. Tripp’s laughter, my cries, and the sharp crack of leather bounce off the walls like a warped symphony.
The lashes continue to meet my abused back until my throat burns, and I can’t scream anymore. All I can do is focus on my breathing and take every white-hot lash that he delivers.
I’ve lost count of the hits by the time Tripp steps back, heaving as he admires his handiwork. Blood is dripping down my back, and I don’t even have the will to lift my head.
“Not feeling so powerful now, huh?”
I don’t answer, and he brings the whip down again, eliciting an animal-like groan from me.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I clench my teeth so hard that I fear they’ll break. No words leave my mouth.
“Stubborn girl, but that’s okay. I’ll break you.”
The whip clatters to the floor, but I know better than to be relieved.
Nausea hits me right in the stomach when he reaches out, roughly groping my breasts in his calloused hands. “Relax, brat, we’re just going to have some fun.”
I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but before I can get the words out, Tripp shoves his hand into my mouth, fingers triggering my gag reflex.
“Bite down, and I swear I’ll make this so much worse for you,” he warns.
A muffled whimper is all I can manage when he emphasizes his point by pressing his free hand into my fresh wounds.
What’s the point in fighting him? Regardless of what I do, he’s not going to stop. I want to be able to say that I was strong, that I fought until the last minute, but that’s not the truth. I’m not strong. I’m not able to fight anymore.
I have nothing left.
I sag in my chains, all the resistance leaving me.
Tripp releases my wound, returning his hand to my breast while his fingers continue to probe my throat.
“Good girl,” he purrs. “There’s no point in fighting me. Besides, you know you want it.”
I’ve never felt so worthless.
Tripp finally removes his dirty hand from my mouth, and I gasp wildly for breath as he dries his wet palm on my face and hair.
The tears come easily now, spilling onto my cheeks to show Tripp just how weak I really am.
He roughly cups my face in his palm. “You like this, baby? Tell me you like it.”
My silence inspires him to press a hand into my back again. “I can’t hear you, brat.”
There’s no point in fighting him. My pride has done nothing but hurt me since I got here, and it isn’t worth holding on to.
I squeeze my eyes shut, muttering the disgusting words in a hoarse, broken whisper, “I-I like it.”
“There we go,” he praises. “Now we can really start the fun.”
I have no idea what that means, but he removes his hands from my body, and I relish the momentary break. His footsteps retreat, and I hear the sound of a lever being pulled. The chain that holds up my body is suddenly released, and though my hands are still bound, I fall to the floor.
I want to cry out as I collapse against the ground, but only a mangled groan leaves my trembling lips.
I don’t try to stand. I only watch defenselessly as Tripp circles me like a predator playing with its food.
“You’re going to be a good girl, right?”
Tripp lowers himself to his knees in front of me, laughing when I flinch away from his hand, which weaves itself in my hair, pulling my face to his.
His lips move cruelly against mine, and I want to gag when I taste the stale vodka on his lips. This is nothing like my kisses with Joshua. This isn’t passionate or thrilling.
This is dark and perverse.
I don’t fight him, but I also don’t kiss him back, which only seems to fuel his malice. He bites down on my bottom lip and groans in appreciation at my helpless whimper.
Before he even pulls his lips from mine, Tripp’s rough hands shove me back, and I hit the ground back-first. The blunt force to my open wounds sends a violent wave of pain over my entire body, and all the air is sucked out of my lungs. My vision blurs, and I wonder if I’m going to pass out.
I hope that I do.
I don’t get a chance to steady my breath because, in an instant, Tripp is hovering over my lifeless form, pulling at the waistband of my sweatpants.
I feel a part of me break as I realize what’s about to happen.
My brain screams at me to fight, run, or beg, but I can’t. My body has reached a point of excruciation that makes functioning impossible.
So, I lay there, watching in horror as my clothing is dragged slowly down my legs. He stops at my ankles, not bothering to fully remove the fabric.
Tripp pushes to his feet, and bile rises in my throat as his eyes hungrily appraise my body, bound, beaten, bloody, partially stripped, and tear-stained.
A chilling sneer spreads across his lips as he slowly reaches for the buckle of his belt.
I can’t take it anymore.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hear Tripp’s faint chuckle accompanied by the clinking and slide of his belt.
Please, let this be over quickly.
The deafening sound of a gunshot rings in the air, and my eyes spring open just in time to see Tripp collapse.