3. A Choice Is All You Have. #2
My spine straightened when the man who had figured out who I was and had tackled me to the ground and drugged me walked into the room, grinning widely. He had a bandage over his shoulder, and I tried to hide my irritation that I hadn’t pierced an artery with my hairpin.
“This is Donal. One of my high-rankin’ soldiers.”
“We’ve already met,” Donal said with a sneer as I started scribbling on the paper and lifted it towards him.
Where’s my hairpin?
Donal’s eyes darkened, and Sean laughed.
“Of course you’ve met,” Sean answered. “Donal, where’s the lady’s hairpin?”
“I got rid of it,” he growled as we glared at each other.
“Apologies, Soraya. But we can’t have you getting stabby with hair accessories durin’ your stay.
And Donal is my favourite soldier right now, because he was the one who recognised you from the only grainy CCTV footage we had.
Your family keeps you well hidden, Soraya.
Well…” Sean chuckled. “Obviously not well enough.”
An older man waltzed in with a curt nod, then sat in the chair opposite and opened a laptop, practically ignoring me. I preferred that to the leery gaze of Donal.
“This is Oscar, my second. He’s mostly behind the scenes, so I doubt you’ll be seein’ much of him.
And then there’s Rick, Flynn, Liam, Nolan and Cian.
Just so you have a few familiar faces around here.
I won’t introduce you to all the soldiers, but these are the ones you want on your side, if you know what I mean. ”
My eyes flicked quickly across the men, knowing at least two of them were responsible for Nero’s death. I was pretty sure, from Liam’s short, bulky stature, that he was the one who had forced me to watch.
“These are my Mission Impossible men,” Sean chuckled, making them all shift on their feet.
I sensed unease spreading through the room.
“When Callum and Arianna never made it onto that boat, I sent them to Italy to make an impression until they could bring me back a princess. Unfortunately, they brought me back the wrong one.” His tone had sharpened to an edge of threat, and it felt as if all the air had been drained from the room.
Sean let the silence linger, then laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls like a sinister melody.
“But I liked the initiative. A princess for a princess.”
Sean nodded, and the men all left the room except for Oscar and Donal.
Sean took the seat directly in front of me, spreading his legs and lighting a cigar as two glasses of wine and a platter of bread, meat and fruit were set on the table between us.
His blue eyes sparkled with amusement behind the smoke as he watched me lick my lips.
“Help yourself, Soraya.”
I scribbled on the paper: You first.
He smirked, leaned forward, reached for my wineglass, took a small sip, then offered it back to me. He placed some ham on the bread and took a bite. Convinced he wasn’t about to poison me, I dug in as Donal and Sean watched my every move, while Oscar’s relentless typing filled the silence.
The tension in my body coiled so tightly that it was hard to stomach every mouthful, but I had no idea when my next meal might be, so I forced myself to push through and ignore their penetrating gazes.
“Better?” Sean asked as I set my empty glass back on the table. I nodded and looked down at my fingers in my lap, picking at the skin around my nails. “Good. Now that I’ve done somethin’ nice for you, you’ll do somethin’ for me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d overlooked just how manipulative this bastard was. Of course, everything was transactional. He only gives to take.
He picked up a large wooden box from under the table and opened it on his lap.
His blue eyes flicked up to mine as he reached inside and pulled out the first item.
A syringe filled with clear liquid. Turning it between his fingers without a word, he studied my reaction, noting how my eyes dilated and I shifted on the sofa.
He placed it on the table and reached back into the box, retrieving a container of prescribed pills, an old, rusting key stained with blood, and then a pen and a blank piece of paper.
I stared at each item, my heart racing and my imagination spiralling as he arranged them carefully in a neat order between us.
“I’ve found,” he began, his tone even, “that people are most cooperative when they reach their own conclusions. Your mind is already doing the work for me, isn’t it?”
Of course it was. I knew that in this psychologically twisted game, each item represented a choice.
Syringe = to be kept in a state of sedation, drugged and unaware of what was happening to me.
Pills = Was he offering me an overdose? The key = confinement, probably.
A disgusting cell, or being trapped in that room alone for days on end.
But it was the least ominous items that made my gut twist and my skin crawl. The pen and paper.
When he noticed me staring at it, he smirked and pushed it closer to me.
“I like to give people choices, Soraya. It tells me a lot about their character. Write a letter to your family explainin’ what I need in return for your life.
Beg your brother to divorce my niece and trade Arianna for you. It’s very simple.”
I twisted my hands together in my lap as I focused on keeping my breathing steady. In and out. I looked back at the other items. Sean watched me thoughtfully, remaining unnervingly calm and still.
“Take your time,” he said, rotating his ring. “It’s an important decision.”
I reached for the rusty, blood-stained key, my heart hammering.
Sean tilted his head, considering my choice.
I braced myself for when this cold, unnervingly calm exterior would crack and I’d see the real man beneath the mask, but he didn’t react.
He didn’t seem offended or angry by my choice, just…
intrigued. And that made me even more anxious.
“Hmm.” He lifted his clasped hands to his face, pressing his knuckles against his lips before lowering them again. “Interestin’ choice, but not entirely unexpected. I thought you might need a little more persuasion.”
He stood up from the chair and took a slow, unhurried stroll around the room before stopping next to the fake window and gazing at the strange farmyard image on the glass as if he were contemplating something he already knew.
He turned back to face me with an unhinged smile that made my shoulders bunch and my body shrink.
“Take our guest to the bunker.”