CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX CHLOE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHLOE
NOW
The loneliness is worse now.
After days of familiar companionship, it hurts to be alone again.
The deafening silence drags on for what I assume is hours, but it could be days for all I know.
Bone-deep exhaustion keeps me on the shitty mattress with the blankets that smell like Ronan pulled up to my chin.
I’m torturing myself. Beating myself up for ever asking him to leave.
But it’s better this way.
Soon I’ll be gone, and he’ll have to deal with the part he played in my death. It’s better that there’s distance between us when that happens.
I suck in another shameless breath of his scent. It’s too warm down here to be bundled up like this, but I need the comfort and the false sense of security they offer.
At the end of the day, they’re not going to do anything to protect me from the inevitable, but for now they act as a barrier between me and the threats that reside above me.
I wish they would just get it over and done with.
I don’t know anything helpful about Kingston, and even if I did, I would have told them by now. He wouldn’t want me to protect him in exchange for my life.
The sound of footsteps in the hall outside has my thoughts stalling, and when they pause outside my cell, my stomach rolls uncomfortably.
Something about their hesitation to come in doesn’t sit right with me, and I make the split-second decision to pretend I’m asleep, rolling over and tugging the blankets around my chin.
It might be dumb to give whoever is about to come in here my back, but I’m not exactly flushed with options right now.
The door opens slowly but no quieter than every other time, but I continue to pretend I’m asleep despite the noise.
Whoever it is steps into the room but doesn’t close the door behind them.
Maybe they’re not planning to stay for long.
Minutes tick by, but they don’t make any move to wake me. I force my breathing to remain even and my body to stay still, but their presence is unnerving.
I’m almost positive it’s not Ronan or Damon based on the way my skin crawls while they watch me sleep.
After all these years, my body knows it’s safe with them, even if my mind and heart aren’t.
Damon has never physically hurt me, and although he will likely be the one to kill me, I don’t think he’s going to start until it’s absolutely necessary.
Which means it’s either Salvatore or one of his men standing behind me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck a calming breath into my lungs, but it does little to ease my anxiety.
Their feet drag across the bricks as they move closer until they pause at the edge of the flimsy mattress.
Unease swirls in my gut as the realization that I’m in danger washes over me.
There’s nothing in here that I can use to protect myself, no one to scream for to help, and after days of being locked in a small space with little room for movement, the likelihood of fighting someone off with my bare hands is low.
I’ve allowed my hand-to-hand combat skills to slip the last year, and I curse myself for my own complacency.
“I always knew you’d return to me, Little Flower.”
No.
Not him.
Anyone but him.
I hoped he was dead. He’s been a pack-a-day smoker my whole life, I just assumed his lifestyle would have taken him out by now, but apparently I’m not quite that lucky.
He drags the blanket down, exposing my back, and another sickening realization washes over me. I’m still wrapped in Ronan’s shirt with just panties beneath.
I have no choice but to relinquish my hold on the soft blanket or I’ll risk him realizing I’m not asleep.
The only way I get out of this unscathed is with the element of surprise.
“I was worried you didn’t eat enough of your soup to feel the effects of the drugs,” he murmurs, more to himself than me.
The motherfucker drugged me?
Even when I think the scumbag can’t stoop any lower, I’m proven wrong.
The fact I only had one single mouthful can only be attributed to the conflict about asking Ronan to leave. It took me hours to talk myself into it, and the idea of pushing him away made eating impossible.
At least one good thing came from breaking my own heart all over again.
A pleased hum brushes across my shoulder when he finds my legs bare, making it almost impossible to hold the bile climbing up the back of my throat.
If I’m lucky, he left the door at the top of the stairs open when he came down here, but screaming is a risk.
Hell, everything is.
There’s not a single clear path to safety, and there’s a very real chance I don’t make it out of here without fresh scars.
Ralph has starred in my nightmares for the last ten years, and if by some miracle I make it out of this hellhole alive, it’ll be at least another decade before I’m free of him in my dreams.
“Such a pretty flower,” he murmurs to himself as his calloused fingers drag the shirt up my thigh. “You may have been off-limits before, but now you’re all mine. There’s no one to save you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and drips onto the pillow. Maybe I should be worried about him noticing, but as horrifying as it is, he’s not looking at my face.
Every touch has a fresh wave of nausea rolling through my stomach, but I force myself to remain perfectly still.
I tell myself I’m waiting for an opportunity to present itself, but I’m not sure I even know what I’m looking for.
For all I know I’m giving Ralph the upper hand without realizing it.
Keeping my breathing slow and even, I strain my ears for any other sound. If the door at the top of the stairs is open, I’ll probably be able to hear someone walk past. The compound is more secure than Fort Knox, and the security team do sweeps of the main house every twenty to thirty minutes.
Or at least they used to.
I can’t imagine Salvatore has gotten any less paranoid about his own safety, though, so I think I’m confident enough to make the assumption that they’re not patrolling less.
But there’s nothing.
Not a footstep. Not a dripping tap in the kitchen above. Not even the rustle of curtains in the wind.
Another tear falls against the pillow that still smells like Ronan, and I barely manage to swallow the accompanying sob.
Why did I have to send him away? It was the right thing to do, of course, the only thing I could do to protect both our hearts. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in this position right now.
I’d be safe in his arms until the time comes for me to leave this world.
Something between panic and acceptance settles in my chest as Ralph shoves the shirt higher, leaving my panties uncovered.
He either doesn’t know Ronan has been nursing me through my period the last few days, or he doesn’t care, but either way he’s going to be in for a rude shock.
Because I wasn’t blessed with four-day periods that taper into almost nothing after day two. No, endometriosis gifted me weeklong bleeds so heavy my iron is eternally low, even with regular infusions.
Maybe I’ll get lucky.
Maybe that will be enough to deter him from going any further.
Rough hands push my top leg higher, rolling me further onto my stomach.
This is it.
If I let him pin me down this way, I won’t be able to escape.
It’s now or never.
Without being able to see where his attention is focused, I’m relying on touch alone to find an opportunity to strike.
“I almost wish you were awake, Little Flower. I bet you cry just as pretty as your mom.”
His voice comes from closer than I expect, and without overthinking it, I throw my head back, hitting him straight in the nose.
Agony slices through my skull, but I don’t pause.
Using his moment of distraction, I shove myself to my feet, my head swimming at the sudden movement.
I blink through the dizzy spell, shooting a hand out to grip the rough bricks and stop myself from falling, but by the time the stars have faded, Ralph is on me.
“You stupid cunt,” he growls, slamming me into the wall.
My temple slams into the wall a second before the rest of my body follows, and I’m once again pinned beneath his much larger body.
“Get the fuck off me,” I hiss, using every bit of strength I have left to fight.
But it’s not much.
Not enough.
The reality of this time of the month is that everything in me is depleted. My muscles ache, my skin hurts, and my strength is nonexistent.
The agility I’ve spent years building is sluggish and barely there, and I can’t help but curse my body.
Ralph shoves me harder into the wall, rough brick scraping across my cheek and palms as I desperately try to escape his hold.
His fingers fist into the back of my hair a moment before he slams my head into the wall again, this time so hard black dots cloud my vision, and no matter how hard I try to find my way out of the darkness, it drags me under.