Chapter 33
Elena
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound pulls me back to consciousness. I blink, disoriented. My head pounds. My mouth tastes like chemicals.
I'm lying on cold stone. Damp. Dark. The only light comes from a small window high up on the wall—grimy glass filtering weak daylight.
Iron bars. A cell.
I sit up slowly, every muscle protesting. My wrists are bound in front of me with rough rope, already chafing my skin. My ankles too.
Memory floods back. Tony. The van. The needle.
I look around. Stone walls. Rusted bars. Old machinery visible through the bars—generators maybe? The smell of industrial waste and river water.
An abandoned warehouse. We're still in New York. Near the East River, if I had to guess.
I don't know how long I've been here. Hours? A day? My stomach growls. My throat is bone dry.
The sound of a metal door opening echoes through the space. Footsteps.
Tony appears, flanked by two other men. "Wakey, wakey."
I press myself against the wall, as far from the bars as I can get.
He opens the cell door and steps in, crouching to my level. Grabs the rope binding my wrists and yanks me forward. Pain shoots through my arms.
"How's my little captive doing?" His breath is rancid. I turn my face away.
He roughly grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Nothing to say? No snarky comments?"
I don't respond. Won't give him the satisfaction.
"Let's get you cleaned up before the boss sees you." His smile is predatory.
The two men enter the cell. One grabs me while the other pulls out scissors.
My heart races. "What are you doing?"
"Can't have you meeting Ronan in dirty clothes," Tony says.
The scissors start cutting through my shirt. I thrash, trying to pull away.
"No! Stop—get off me!"
Tony slaps me hard across the face. My vision blurs. I fall to the floor, disoriented.
By the time my head clears, they've cut away most of my clothing. I'm left in just my underwear, curled against the wall, trying to cover myself.
"Such a pretty little thing," Tony murmurs, reaching for me.
The other man has more rope in his hands. "Should we tie her up properly? Make sure she can't fight when—"
"When what, exactly?"
The voice cuts through the cell like ice. Everyone freezes.
Ronan stands in the doorway, his expression dark. Dangerous.
"Boss—we were just—" Tony starts.
"You wouldn't be trying to test out the merchandise before me, would you?" Ronan's voice is deceptively calm.
"No! No, boss, we were just getting her ready—"
"Getting her ready by stripping her? Touching her?" Ronan steps into the cell. "Did I give you permission to do that?"
"We thought—"
"You thought wrong." Ronan's eyes are cold. "Tony. Come here."
Tony hesitates. "Boss—"
"I said, come here."
Tony steps forward, hands up in a placating gesture. "Boss, I swear, we weren't going to—"
"You served your purpose," Ronan says quietly. "You brought her to me. You proved the Rossos had a traitor in their ranks. For that, I'm grateful."
Tony's eyes widen. "Boss, please—"
"But ultimately, you're a traitor. And traitors can't be trusted. Today it's the Rossos you betray. Tomorrow, it could be me." Ronan's hand moves to the knife at his belt. "I can't have that liability."
"I'm loyal to you! I've proven it—"
The knife is quick. Tony's eyes go wide with shock. He clutches his throat, blood spilling between his fingers.
He drops.
The other two men press themselves against the wall, terror on their faces.
Ronan wipes his blade clean on Tony's shirt. "Let this be a lesson. Loyalty is everything. But a man who betrays once will betray again." He looks at the remaining men. "Do either of you have ambitions of testing my patience?"
Both shake their heads rapidly.
"Good. Now get out."
They scramble out of the cell.
Ronan turns to me. I'm shaking, arms wrapped around myself, trying to maintain some dignity while Tony bleeds out two feet away.
He crouches in front of me, and I flinch back against the wall.
He reaches down to Tony's body, the man still making obscene gargling noises as the life disappears from his body.
I grimace and close my eyes as I watch him dip his fingers into his neck, coating his hand in blood.
As he pulls it out, Tony doesn't make any more noise.
I freeze as he brings his hand toward me.
"You're my property now, Miss Messina. Mine to do with as I please.
" He drags his bloodied fingers across my collarbone first, an obscene, intimate gesture that makes bile rise in my throat. He doesn’t stop at the collarbone.
His fingers press and smear, leaving a dark, slick trail down to my breasts.
The warm blood is nauseating. "When I want you. How I want you."
The knife appears in his other hand. He presses the flat of the blade against my throat—not cutting, just pressure.
A promise. Then his fingers move, his thumb and finger pinching my nipple harshly.
I yelp in pain and my hands are up before I can even stop myself, but he catches it with the sharp edge of his blade, leaving a deep cut into my wrist.
"You offered to work off your father's debt, didn't you? In our first meeting?" His voice is conversational. "I'm going to take you up on that offer. Just as you promised."
"That's not what I—"
"Shh." The knife presses harder. "You don't get to decide what you meant. Not anymore."
Before I can do anything he's backhanded me across the temple. My vision blurs as stars burst behind my eyes and I tumble backwards. His body is on me in an instant. I can feel the weight of him pressing me down into the concrete of the floor even in my disoriented state.
"No..." I begin to plea.
I feel his bloody hand make its way down my body, rubbing me roughly over my panties. My thighs try and clench together to stop him but he's pushing them apart, cutting me deeply with the knife on one side.
I grit my teeth, refusing to let him see me cry. My panties rip and the sound does something to me.
No! I am not going to let him do this to me!
A wad of spit leaves my lips as I lob at it him. I struggle against the weight of him on top of me.
"Fucking bitch," he yells and then he pulls something from his pocket. A cloth.
"What—no—" I try to scramble away but there's nowhere to go.
He presses the cloth over my face. Chemical smell. Sweet and sickening.
"I don't like a challenge," he murmurs as my vision blurs. "Much easier when you're compliant."
I try to fight. Try to hold my breath. But my lungs burn and I gasp involuntarily.
The drug hits fast. My limbs go heavy. The world tilts.
Marco, I think desperately as the darkness pulls me under. Marco will come. He'll find me. He has to find me.
But Ronan's voice follows me into the black: "Sweet dreams, Miss Messina."
The last thing I feel is his hand in my hair before everything goes dark.