Chapter Forty - Elise #2
He’s only a few steps away when he calls, “Oh, and Elise? Meet me back here at eight when you’re ready to get the hell out of here.”
I want to say that I’ve been standing here for the past half hour debating whether or not I should go to Joshua’s office, but there is no debate.
I’m going to go.
The real problem comes with all the questions I have bouncing around my head. What will I find? Why did Joshua hide it? Will it have the power to ruin what we have?
I’m sure I can give Joshua the chance to explain, no matter what I find.
A quick look at my phone tells me I have fifteen minutes before Quincy gets off break, and he’ll come looking for me. If I’m going to get to Joshua’s office without raising suspicion, I need to go now.
Steeling my nerves, I abandon my book and leave the garden.
I keep my face composed and smile at the men I pass on my way, as I normally would.
Before I’m mentally prepared, I’m at the door to Joshua’s office.
When I step inside, everything is so normal that I almost turn around and leave, but I don’t. Instead, I force my legs to carry me around the desk.
The computer is open to a video clip, and my heart is in my throat as I process the frozen scene before me. The footage was taken from one of the security cameras in the gym.
In the very same ring that Ryder and I spar in daily stands Joshua and Tripp. A shiver runs down my spine at the sight of my attacker. I haven’t seen him since Joshua shot him in the basement that day.
Now, the man who inflicted such cruelty on me is hunched over on his knees with his arms bound behind his back.
He’s shirtless, covered only by a bandage over the bullet wound on his shoulder.
Though the image is grimy, I can see how frail and skinny he is, and I recall Joshua telling me that Tripp was starved and kept awake for days after my assault.
It certainly shows.
Soldiers surround the ring from all sides, reminding me of how they lined the halls for our arrival. They even wear the same somber expressions.
I press play.
Joshua’s voice booms through the room as he circles the ring, slowly addressing the crowd.
“For those of you that don’t know who this is, meet Tripp.” Joshua kicks the crumpled man as he says his name.
A man whose face I can’t see hands Joshua a whip, and I recognize it as the same one that was used on me.
“Tripp ignored a direct order to work from the San Diego base,” Joshua says as he brings the whip down on Tripp’s back.
“He got trashed when he should’ve been working.” Another lash.
“But his biggest mistake? He hurt Elise Consoli. He put his hands on what’s mine.”
The lashes come down nonstop, one after the next at full force, and my own back stings with phantom pains at every snap of the whip.
Groans from Tripp are the only sounds that fill the deadly silence. Not a single one of the somber-faced soldiers says a word.
Once Tripp’s back is a mess of blood and marred skin, Joshua tosses the whip aside. “Did you really think you could touch her and get away with it?”
When Tripp doesn’t answer, Joshua kicks him again, this time with enough force to tip his crumpled body over.
“Answer the question,” he yells.
Even in our most intense fights, I’ve never heard Joshua yell like that. The sound makes goosebumps rise on my arms.
Tripp looks up, staring daggers at Joshua as he whispers, “She wanted it.”
If looks could kill, Tripp would’ve died mercifully.
With a flick of Joshua’s wrist, two men approach and untie Tripp’s hands, but he doesn’t make an effort to escape or fight. Someone hands Joshua a small device that resembles a cigar cutter.
Joshua crouches beside the bloodied man, a sadistic smile on his face as he takes hold of one of Tripp’s hands, which is already cut up from being caught in the crossfire of the whip.
Taking the device, Joshua slips one of Tripp’s fingers into the circular section, and bile rises in my throat as I realize what’s about to happen.
“You shoved these filthy fingers down her throat.”
I watch in utter horror as Joshua clamps the device, and Tripp roars in pain as his amputated finger falls to the floor.
One by one, Joshua cuts off every finger on Tripp’s right hand.
By the time he’s finished, the floor around them is painted red, but Joshua isn’t done yet. Another flick of his wrist cues Dr. Hanes, who wraps the hand as Joshua addresses the crowd once again.
“I am going to make this abundantly clear because there will be no mercy if I am disobeyed—Elise is off limits. If anyone so much as lays a hand on her, I will make Tripp’s treatment look charitable.”
Dr. Hanes leaves the ring just as Joshua pulls out his gun and points it directly at Tripp’s head.
The seconds drag as I await Tripp’s final moments. His expression is peaceful, ready to be put out of his misery.
Just when I think he’s about to pull the trigger, Joshua smiles, lowering the weapon. “I’m not even close to done with you.”
The video ends and tears are running down my cheeks. I want to walk away, but as the video automatically closes, a file of pictures takes its place.
My hand flies to my mouth as the images register.
Screenshots from security footage show Joshua, Ryder, and the other capos torturing Tripp in various ways.
Joshua holding Tripp’s head underwater.
Ryder etching what seems to be words into the skin of Tripp’s arms.
Joshua and Donovan ripping out Tripp’s toenails.
Joshua pressing hot metal against Tripp’s feet.
All the capos taking turns beating Tripp with whips.
Picture after picture—all different, but all the same.
My eyes fall to the dates attached to each picture, showing me exactly what I feared it would.
Joshua didn’t kill Tripp when he went back to the base—he took him.
Tripp was in the warehouse all along.