Chapter 28
twenty-eight
I startle awake, gasping for air. My fingers claw at my neck, struggling to tear away the invisible noose wrapped around it.
It is dark outside. Slivers of the moon’s rays dance along the floor as clouds shift along its surface.
I can barely pry my eyes open—my eyelashes are stuck together, a thin layer of crust running along the edge.
My face is swollen, and the metallic taste of blood lingers inside my mouth.
I feel lethargic, and my body aches something fierce.
It takes me a second to orient myself. I am still locked inside my prison cell. The manacles grip my wrists tightly, chafing the sensitive skin. My dress is torn. The velvet is dirty and ripped in several places. It is held together by only a few seams along the top and one long seam at the skirt.
I have to get out of here, but the thought of escape sends a horrified shiver up my spine, causing my heart to race. The manacles are hammered into the concrete wall behind me and barely allow for any range of motion.
The last time I was chained up like this, Neil was holding my head, forcing me to watch Christian rape my best friend. The faded imagery causes my gut to protest as bile surges toward the surface. I barely manage to hold it back.
Matthias, where are you?
Why haven’t you come for me?
I lean my head back against the wall, silent tears tracking down my dirt-marred cheeks as I send a silent prayer out to the universe. Am I still pissed off at him for pretending to be dead all those months? Fuck yeah. Am I planning on making him work to earn back my trust? Hell fucking yeah.
But do I really need him to burst through the door right now like the monster he is and take me in his arms?
With all of my heart, yes.
Is he out there looking for me? Wondering where I am? Worried about me?
I scoff.
Who knows if he is even alive?
He is alive.
I repeat the mantra in my head like a broken record.
It is such a ridiculous thing to do that I start to laugh and immediately stop as my chest twists painfully. I am going to kill them all.
Every motherfucking one of them.
Teach her a lesson.
What lesson? Is my cold-hearted grandmother planning on selling me to Kellan? Or is Kellan the proxy? I can briefly recall seeing him at the gala. His eyes were trained on Bailey as she danced with my brother on the floor. After that, I can’t remember seeing him again.
Will he take me away? Sell me? Use me? The icy, cruel smile he wore when he held me down for the guard to beat on speaks volumes about him. I have no doubt that he will do everything in his power to break me.
I let out a soft cry when I try to move my feet out from under me. The pain in my ribs is intense. Fire licks up my body, and I let a few more tears leak down my face.
For the first time in years, I want my mother. She isn’t coming, but he will. The man who rescued me from the clutches of Christian. Who showed me immediate, unconditional love. He will come for me like he has before.
Matthias is my monster. The demon lurking in the darkest corners of my soul. The man who forged me from fire.
But my father is my knight in shining armor.
The man on the white steed.
He is the hero I never knew I needed.
And when a monster and a knight join forces, they are unstoppable.
They will come for me.
They will always come for me.
Daddy, please.
I let the silent prayer be carried by the darkness as I close my eyes and surrender myself to sleep, my soul battered but not broken.
“Hó bha ín, Hó bha ín.
Hó bha ín, mo ghrá.
Hó bha ín, mo leana,
Agus codail, go lá.
Hó bha ín, mo leana,
‘Is hó bha ín mo roghain.
Hó bha ín, mo leana,
Is gabh amach a bhadhbh badhbh.
Hó bha ín, Hó bha ín.
Hó bha ín, mo ghrá.
Hó bha ín, mo leana,
Agus codail, go lá.”
She is singing again.
The hauntingly beautiful melody she sings to me each night before bed echoes through the dark kitchen in the middle of the night. I had gone to bed hours ago, readying for another day of school, but she is still awake.
And crying.
This is not the first time I’ve come downstairs to find her weeping at the kitchen island, her golden locket clenched tight between her hands as she sobs.
Alone.
She never speaks of my father. I don’t even know his name, but I have peeked at the man inside the locket. His hair is red like mine, eyes the same shining green. It definitely seems like it would be him.
Where is he?
Had he left us by choice?
“Mama,” I whisper sadly as I walk into the kitchen, rubbing at my tired eyes.
“Avaleigh.” Turning away, she quickly wipes at her wet eyes and clears her throat before she turns back to face me. “What are you doing up, mo réalta?”
I step into her side and wrap my arms around her waist. “It’s okay to be sad, Mommy,” I tell her. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”
My mother smiles down at me gently. Tears still cling to her thin, fragile lashes, and pain dances across her face so starkly it almost looks physical.
“Some tears need to be shed alone, my star,” she whispers, her words dripping sorrowfully. I crawl onto the stool next to her and lean in, surveying the picture she has tucked away. The one she always cries over.
“Who is he, Mama?” I ask, running my finger along the outside of the picture.
Her mouth twitches on one side and her throat bobs. “My knight in shining armor.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” I wonder. “Aren’t knights supposed to be with their princesses?”
“Not all princesses get their happily ever after.” Clearing her throat, she snaps the locket shut. “And some princesses have a bedtime. Go get your water.”
Giggling, I hop down from the chair to grab a glass of water. Once I am done, I place it in the sink and hold out my arms. Smiling, my mother lifts me into her arms, cradling me to her chest like I am the most precious thing she owns.
“One day,” I yawn. “I’m going to have a knight of my own.”
“Not all knights have shining armor, little one,” she warns me, her voice low and thoughtful.
“Mine will,” I tell her stubbornly as my eyes begin to close. “And he will never leave me.”
The door to the cell creaks open, letting in a stream of dim yellow light from the hall. I don’t open my eyes, but I can hear his voice. It is low and garbled, as if he is trying to talk to me while I am underwater. Smooshed nose has no doubt done some form of damage to my ears.
Upside, I don’t have to listen to their shit.
Kellan’s footsteps echo loudly in the quiet room. I keep my breathing even, eyes shut, hoping he will think I am still asleep and leave me in peace.
I am never that lucky.
“I know you’re awake, little one,” he sneers. His hand clenches around my jaw, gripping it tight enough to bruise. “No need to pretend.”
His cold eyes greet me when I open mine. He is only inches from my face. My heart thumps in my chest wildly when I see the long, curved blade in his hand. My jaw clenches, the pain grounding me. I refuse to show this fucker any ounce of fear.
“Stay still,” he whispers to me seductively.
He presses the tip of the blade between my breasts and slides the knife slowly through the fabric.
“You won’t need this much longer.” He smiles down at me, like I am his lover and he isn’t forcibly undressing me.
The velvet fabric gives way easily beneath the sharpness of his blade.
He mumbles an insincere apology each time the tip of the knife nicks at my skin, causing blood to swell to the surface.
I grit my teeth, refusing to make a sound.
“Your grandmother informed me that you are such a docile little lamb,” Kellan murmurs.
He keeps stripping at my dress, piece by piece, until it lies in ribbons surrounding me.
I lie before him, shackled in nothing but my underwear.
My breasts are on full display, and the lascivious way he licks his lips tells me he isn’t hiding his attraction to my body.
“I’m not,” I snarl at him. “You should ask for a refund.”
Kellan chuckles darkly and presses the blade against my right nipple. I hiss at the pain that blooms when he slices a shallow cut across my areola.
“There are so many ways to break someone, you know,” he keeps murmuring.
At this point, I’m sure he is simply talking to hear his own voice.
He doesn’t care what I have to say on the subject.
He just wants me to listen to his endless droning.
If I weren’t tied down, I would slam that knife through his vocal cords.
Then no one would have to hear him speak again.
“Pain is the most common, of course. Cutting. Sawing. Beating.” He lets out a wistful sigh, like he is recalling a happy memory.
“But from what I’ve learned about you, that won’t really work. ”
He grins down at me when he feels my body stiffen in response to his words.
“That’s what I thought.” He chuckles like it is the best news he has ever received. “You know pain all too well because of that wretched Christian Ward. The man doesn’t know the art of torture and making someone fear it instead of leading the subject to adapt to it. A waste, really.”
“No,” he continues, the knife in his hand skating along my pebbled skin. “But I’ve watched how you respond to looks…touches…” He trails off, his free hand running up my inner thigh. I kick my leg out, which isn’t shackled, and nail him in the stomach.
My reward is a slice of the knife down the middle of my upper thigh. I scream, unable to contain the sudden pain that sweeps through me.
“Keep it up, little one,” he growls. “I don’t need all your body parts. Just the useful ones.”
“Yeah?” I sneer. “I doubt any of your body parts are useful, so feel free to swap places with me. I’ll gladly remove some of your appendages.”
The fucker laughs. Not one of those half-assed ones either.
He lets out a full belly laugh that, if under different circumstances, is attractive as fuck.
Too bad he is the creepy-ass villain in this story.
He would sure as hell make an amazing mafia bad boy in one of those smutty romance novels I love so much.