Chapter 2
two
Panic.
Pure, unadulterated panic.
I would scream if I could, but I’m frozen, too afraid to open my mouth or eyes.
Ice-cold water surrounds me on all sides, and in my moment of panic, I thrash and kick against the metal tub, to no avail. My lungs burn, and I thank my lucky stars I didn’t take a breath when I came to. That would have been the end of me.
A hand in my hair wrenches me back, tossing me to the floor like a rag doll. A small whimper slips from my cold, trembling lips as the cement floor bites into my skin. I cough and choke, struggling to remember how to breathe.
Waterboarded.
The motherfucker waterboarded me awake. Guess he got bored with the cattle prod.
Or the stun gun. Or nearly choking me to death.
Honestly, I’d rather be waterboarded than suffer the way his hands roamed my body, tugging, pulling, caressing, each morning to wake me up.
I slap him. Spit in his face. And that’s when he gets creative.
“Look who’s finally awake.” Christian’s oily voice dominates the small space. I can hear the sneer in his tone, like it bothers him that I woke up. Maybe he meant to drown me.
“Good morning, Little Lamb.”
I don’t bother responding. What’s the point? He’s not talking to me. Not really. Christian likes to hear himself talk. The man loves the sound of his own voice.
“Get her up.”
My brows pull together as I look up from the floor and find Archer standing over me, his eyes slightly narrowed as he takes in my nearly naked state. He doesn’t say anything though. Bastard. He just takes my arm and hauls me up with a rough pull. His touch, however, is deceptively gentle.
There’s no stopping the flash of pain across my face or the heat that burns my cheeks at my near-nakedness.
Christian, the perve, has left me in nothing but a bra and panties for days now.
Or is it weeks? Time doesn’t exist down here.
No windows. No clocks. Just me and the oily motherfucker I once thought was my brother.
Thank God I’m not related to that psychotic mess.
My gaze lingers on Archer, the traitorous FBI agent. Clean, pressed black pants. White linen shirt. Stubble along his jaw that highlights the gray in his hair.
I can’t believe I trusted him.
Helped him.
Now I’m exactly where he promised I’d never end up again.
Under my father’s thumb.
“Are you ready to tell me what you know, my darling sister?”
Disgust curls my blue-tinged lips at his use of that word. Sister. Is that how he still sees me? Sick fuck. His eyes narrow at my silence, the same silence I’ve given him day after day since waking up in this hellhole.
He’s like a broken record of “It’s a Small World,” playing on repeat ever since the doctor signed off that my body could handle more abuse.
But it doesn’t matter. What he does. What he threatens. I’ll never betray Matthias. Never.
“Tell me what you know!”
My body flinches at his nearness. Spit from his mouth hits my face, bile rising in my throat as he screams useless threats at me. If he kills me, he loses leverage.
Archer shifts beside me, his grip tightening, almost protectively. I shake the thought away. No fantasies. Not anymore.
“The sky is blue. Your shirt looks like something out of a bad Miami Vice rerun, and you desperately need to rediscover a toothbrush.”
There.
I tell him something.
Next to me, Archer swears under his breath, too low for Christian to hear. I brace for the pain I know is coming.
Christian rages, his face purpling as he snatches a fistful of my hair, hauling me back to the tub.
I suck in a huge breath before he plunges my head beneath the icy surface.
This time I’m ready, forcing myself not to panic.
Not to fight. I hold out until my body betrays me, jerking involuntarily.
The edge of the tub digs into my stomach, making it harder to ration my air.
Dots dance behind my closed lids as I fight off unconsciousness.
Someone’s yelling. Not Archer. Another voice, thick with rage. The words are muffled, muted by water, but one sentence cuts through:
You need her.
That’s all it takes. Christian flings me out of the tub. A scream rips from me as the rough cement tears at my raw skin. Pain spirals through me as I cough and sputter.
“I’m not going to be patient forever, Avaleigh.
” Christian crouches in front of me, tenderly brushing wet strands of hair from my face.
His touch makes my stomach roll. “You’ll tell me what you know sooner or later, or I’ll get more…
personal. Maleah didn’t enjoy it, but I did. You remember that, right?”
“Where is she, you fucking bastard?” I spit at him. His hand whips out, closing tight around the back of my neck, dragging me forward until we’re face-to-face.
“What did you do with Maleah?”
“Be careful, sister,” he growls, his breath sour, bile clawing at my throat. “My patience is wearing thin.”
“I. Am. Not. Your. Fucking. Sister.” Each word comes out venomous despite the rasp in my lungs. “You sick, psychotic fuck.”
His sneer twists into a Cheshire grin, his cognac eyes lighting with excitement that terrifies me more than his snarl.
“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.” He lets go, brushing dirt from his trousers. “As for Maleah, only my father knew where she was. And he’s dead.”
“What?”
Was that true? Elias dead? If so, why am I here? What does Christian want with me?
“You didn’t tell her?” a voice cuts in from the doorway. A third voice. The one who yelled for him to stop my near-drowning.
Neil.
Neil is here.
Why? He hated Christian. Why hasn’t he left?
Christian shrugs. “Didn’t seem important. Now’s as good a time as any. Yes, Avaleigh. He’s dead. I made sure of it.”
“You killed him?”
Smug bastard. But it doesn’t make sense. Elias gave Christian everything—power, freedom, women, drugs. Everything. He was the only one who ever kept him on a leash.
“Why? He gave you everything. What psychotic—”
“Because he gave you away!” Christian’s bitterness cuts like glass. His chest heaves. “He promised you to me. Virginity and all. And he sold you to that Russian to save his own skin.”
Psychotic. Delusional. Great.
What is everyone’s obsession with my virginity? Matthias hadn’t cared. He’d cared about me. But Christian…he’s enraged by what’s gone.
“Fuck you, Christian,” I scream, my voice hoarse. “I am not yours.”
He laughs mirthlessly. “Dashkov took your cherry? So what. I’ll take everything else. You’re the heiress to two Irish undergrounds. Once we’re married, I’ll wipe them out and take what I’m owed.”
“I am not marrying you, pig.” My body trembles from cold, wet skin, and lack of heat, hypothermia creeping in. “I’m not yours. You can’t marry me. Matthias is—”
Neil coughs softly, shaking his head, eyes wide. Don’t mention it.
“Matthias will come for me.”
“You think so?” Christian snorts. “Right now, he’s in federal prison. Under the impression you betrayed him. Why would he come?”
“I did no such thing,” I snap, turning on Archer. “You want betrayal? Your buddy here is FBI.”
Suck on that.
But they smirk. Even Neil.
“Well, he plays one on TV.” Christian chuckles.
“I’m serious. His name is—”
“Jonathon Archer?” Christian interrupts, smirking wider. “Came to your door, gave you an ultimatum…yada, yada. We knew. That was the plan. You did it beautifully.”
“No. That’s not—”
“How na?ve, Avaleigh.” He tsks. “Dad knew Anderson was playing you. What he didn’t know was I’d take his place, make the better deal. I get you and a new empire for helping take down the Dashkov and Ivankov Bratvas.”
My stomach lurches. Horror sinks in. They played me. I set Matthias up.
But I won’t break. I won’t submit.
“You’ll never have me, Christian.” My voice is flat, solid. “And I will never submit to you.”
His hand wrenches my wet hair back, forcing me to meet his cold eyes. “You’ll learn to submit, Little Lamb. You were raised to submit to me.”
Jesus, does he hear himself? Villain monologue in full swing.
I laugh darkly. “You really are an idiot. Who really pulled the trigger, brother? Cause it sure wasn’t you. You’re too much of a coward.”
His grip tightens, his eyes thunder. “Shut your mouth.”
Pain means I’m still alive.
“I don’t think I will,” I rasp. “It was Marko, wasn’t it? You’d never pull the trigger yourself.”
Neil looks between us, confusion clear. “What is she talking about?”
“Nothing,” Christian sneers.
“Sure. Bluffing. Then you won’t mind if I tell them how you had Libby murdered at my wedding.”
“What?” Neil stares at him. Even Archer steps back.
Christian loses it. Drags me up by my hair, chunks tearing free. His grip iron-tight.
“She betrayed this family!” he roars.
“Too bad it wasn’t by your hand. Coward. Just like when Matthias had a gun to your head.”
“I am not a coward!” he bellows. “I’ll rule this city. You’ll stand at my side or rot as my fuck toy.”
“I’d rather slit my throat than have your diseased little pickle anywhere near me.” I bat my lashes. “Or maybe I will slit yours, you fucking—”
“No, wait—”
Well, shit.
Archer’s voice is the last thing I hear before the pain and the subsequent darkness that follows tumbles over me like waves against the shore.