CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CHLOE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHLOE
NOW
Footsteps against hard concrete drag me from my restless dreams, my eyes blinking open with ease.
If nothing else, at least the drugs are out of my system.
Not that that will make the torture hurt any less.
For a second I can’t decide whether to pretend to be asleep for a little longer or if I should just accept my fate.
In the end, I opt for the latter.
The sooner this is over, the better.
No one is coming for me, so there’s no sense trying to prolong my life, even if it is just for a few hours.
The door slides open with a deep groan. They may have done some upgrades to their cells, but it seems they didn’t bother with the steel doors.
I hold my breath, expecting to find Salvatore stepping into the doorway, but instead it’s Ronan with a tray in his hands.
“You’re up,” he says evenly, as if kidnapping his childhood sweetheart means nothing to him. But then he’s not the boy I once knew anymore. He’s harder. More ruthless. Years of being with his father and brother with nothing good around him have made him just like them.
I don’t bother responding as I push myself into a sitting position.
“I brought you some food and a change of clothes.” He places the tray down beside me on the mattress before slipping a bag I hadn’t noticed off his shoulder and setting it beside the tray.
I blink down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off, my chest aching at the familiarity of the food.
A reminder of what we once shared.
The first time we admitted we liked each other as more than friends, it was over a sandwich. He found me in the garden reading, nerves rolling off him as he handed me half his sandwich and told me he didn’t just see me as a best friend anymore.
The memory hurts more than I would like, and I blink back tears before he can see them.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of making me cry.
“I still can’t cook to save my life, but I’ll bring you something more substantial once your system has processed the sedative.”
Why is he being so nice to me?
Is this some kind of tactic they’re going to try? Good cop, bad cop, or, in this case, good Lombardi, bad Lombardi.
The information I have on King is so minimal it’s not going to satisfy them, and contrary to what they seem to believe, I can’t magically know his whereabouts.
“The clothes are just something warm in case the temperature drops overnight. I’ll get some better stuff tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother.” The hoarse whisper falls from my lips before I can catch it.
This is a trick, it has to be, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of duping me. This is going to hurt enough without having my heart broken all over again.
“Sparrow—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He’s taken aback by my outburst, but I don’t care. I can’t handle hearing him call me that. Not when I’m barely hanging on as it is.
His eyes fall closed for a beat, regaining his composure before he crouches down in front of me. He’s far enough away that I don’t feel the need to back away but close enough his scent touches my nose.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
The laugh that escapes my throat is devoid of humor, but I can’t swallow it.
“I don’t need to be afraid of you? Your brother ran us off the road and held a gun to my head.
I was abducted and drugged. And I’ve woken up in the cellar I know no one leaves alive.
Please enlighten me on what emotion I should be feeling that isn’t fear. ”
He nods slowly but doesn’t respond immediately.
He used to love when I challenged him. He used to say it was one of his favorite parts of our relationship because I made him consider things in different lights.
But something tells me this new, more heartless version of Ronan won’t find it quite as endearing.
“I asked Dad to consider taking torture off the table.”
I blink up at him. “Do you want me to thank you for that?”
“No. But you should know that at least for a little while, you won’t be hurt.”
“I don’t know anything about Kingston. I haven’t seen him in years. I haven’t heard from him for years. Even if you’ve got him to agree not to torture me for now, his patience is finite, and I’ll never be able to give him any more information than what I’ve already given.”
He considers me for a moment, his head nodding slowly. “Do you think if he knew we had you that he would come for you?”
I shake my head. “Which part of ‘I haven’t heard from him in years’ did you miss?”
“I’m just trying to get you out of here alive,” he snaps.
“No one leaves this place alive, Ronan. The fact I escaped once was a miracle. There’s no way it happens again.
If you had any mercy for me at all, you’d just kill me now.
” Tears gather in the corners of my eyes.
I never imagined I would wish for death, but I also never thought I would find myself in this cellar again.
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Please Ronan.” A broken sob tears through my chest. “I don’t want to die in agony. You could make it quick and painless.”
“Don’t ask me to do this,” he pleads.
“Why not?”
He shoves himself to his feet without answering, crossing to the door and dragging it open.
He doesn’t owe me the answer. He doesn’t owe me anything.
But then he looks over his shoulder, emotion dancing in the green eyes I once loved. “Because the second your heart stops beating, I lose my reason for breathing.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me with a sandwich, clothing, and more questions than I’ll likely ever have answers.