Chapter 7 Allegra
ALLEGRA
Idon’t know how long I sleep. Not long though because when I open my eyes the lids are heavy and sticking together.
The metal door screeches and a moment later, a soldier enters carrying a chair and a small, low table into my cell.
He sets the table a few feet from me then places the chair down.
Rami follows him in. When I see what he has in his hands, my heart begins to race, my breaths short and shallow.
He gives me an evil grin and sets the butcher’s block on the table.
I look at it. I can’t help it, but I wish I hadn’t. A ringing starts in my ears, and it takes all I have to keep from screaming.
“Get out,” Malek says, and I look up to find he’s entered the room. He’s changed clothes and his face is freshly shaven. He doused himself in aftershave too. Did he go back to my house to shower and change? No. Surely Cassian will have men there.
Why do I keep thinking Cassian will come for me? Will save me? Why would he? He thinks I betrayed him. Last I saw him he was furious. Besides, Michael paid what he owed. I’m no longer collateral. I’m not his problem anymore.
Rami and the other soldier leave, and Malek turns the chair around, so the back is to me and straddles it. I don’t know why I hate that he does this. When his gaze moves over me, I remember I’m naked. Remember he’d stripped me naked in front of those men. Told them to have a good look.
I draw my arms across myself and when he shifts his gaze to mine, I make myself meet it. Make myself hold it. Seeing the scratches at least makes me feel better. I hurt him, even if it’s just a few stupid scratches.
“You may look like her, but I see too much of Alaric in you,” he says as if we were just talking. “Your mother had a purity you lack.”
“I won’t agree to what you want,” I say, ignoring his comment. “No matter what.”
“We’ll see, I guess.”
“Kidnapping me, taking me from Cassian Trevino, that was stupid. You think he’ll just let me go?” I ask, bluffing, because he doesn’t know what happened between Cassian and I. He doesn’t know that Cassian was sending me away.
“Hm,” he says, picking something out from under his fingernail. “Do I look worried to you?” he asks casually, and no, he doesn’t. Not at all. He looks like a man with time at his disposal. “I’m going to tell you a story,” he continues before I have to answer.
“I don’t want to hear any stories.”
“You’ll want to hear this one. It’s about your mother.”
That makes me pause.
“About how I loved her. Yes, me, Allegra.” He sets a hand across his heart. Or where his heart would be if he had one. “I loved your mother from the moment I saw her. Well, from the moment I heard her music. You didn’t know that, did you?”
I don’t respond.
“Shy thing she was. I would have given her everything. I would have if your father hadn’t plucked her from my hand.”
“If you loved her, how could you kill her son? How can you do this to me?”
His face twists. “Michael didn’t have any of your mother in him. He was his father’s son through and through. Except where it came to brains. There I don’t know what the fuck happened. Hell, maybe Sarah fucked the gardener. Who the fuck knows?”
“Do you hear yourself? I don’t believe you loved her, Malek. I believe you hated her.”
And it was so easy. Just a whisper here, a whisper there.
Why do those words keep repeating? I watch Malek, really watch him.
“Now if the Maestro had been his father, or yours for that matter, just imagine the talent in those hands. It would be something. But your father destroyed anything good in her.”
“They weren’t lovers,” I say, I don’t know why.
“Oh, I know that. They loved each other, but they weren’t lovers. To men like your father, of course, love is fucking. Always. He never did have any art in him.”
“And you do?”
His eyes narrow to slits. “Take care with your words, Allegra.”
“You hated them both.”
“I hated him. With my whole heart.”
“Because my mother fell in love with him,” I say, knowing I shouldn’t push him, but unable to help myself.
His lip curls. “No, not love. She was young, and he could be charming, dazzling even, to a girl like her. Let’s be honest here, if she didn’t have that talent, well, she’d be considered trash. But she was unique, and he wanted what she was. Wanted to own her. Wanted to make everyone jealous.”
“I don’t think he cared what anyone thought.”
“You’re wrong on that one. He may have wanted to give that impression, but let me tell you something, the thought of being made a fool of, the image of his wife riding another man, well, let’s just say he was as predictable as any other man.”
“Why would he have such an image of his wife?”
And it was so easy. Just a whisper here, a whisper there.
He grins.
And it clicks.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I ask.
“Me? Your father killed her. You know that as well as I.” His eyes are flat, empty.
“You planted the seed, didn’t you?” I hiss, all the blanks filling in now.
“You know it was your father that ordered her butchering. Yours. Say it. Admit it for me. Just once.”
And it was so easy. Just a whisper here, a whisper there.
It’s just like it was with my mother. Just like my father wanted my mother to admit to being in love with the Maestro. To having an affair with him. Except that wasn’t true.
This is though.
“Yes,” I say, because does it matter anymore? “He was a butcher. But what poison did you speak into my father’s ear to make him hate her?”
“I simply whispered a few words, set the stage. Never outright lied.”
“Say it. Just like I’ll say it. My father ordered what happened to my mother. To me. Now admit what you did!” I swipe at the angry tears that burn my cheeks. Now is not the time for them.
He grins, enjoying my pain. It was him who killed her even if it wasn’t with his hands.
He killed Michael. He killed my father. But it’s not those things that make me burn with fury, that make tears stream from my eyes.
It's my mother.
It was him. He’s the reason she died like she did.
He was the puppet master, and my father was his puppet. His butcher puppet.
“Rami,” he says casually and Rami enters. He must have been just outside. Malek rises to stand, shifting the chair out of the way. I rise too, my eyes locked on him.
“You’re the reason she’s dead. You fucking bastard. You’re the reason she’s dead! You say you loved her!” My voice is high and furious. “Do you know how she suffered?”
I move around the table because I want to get to him, but Rami is inside now and he steps between us, hands closing over my arms. Another man enters. He looks terrified. He’s followed by the second soldier.
Malek holds his hand out, a smile on his face, his eyes on me.
The soldier who walked in last places the handle of the butcher knife in Malek’s hand.
My throat goes dry. Blood roars in my ears.
Rami walks me backward, back to the other side of the table.
“Do you know that for ten nights, they tortured her? They cut off one finger at a time. Can you say you loved if that’s what you wanted for her?” I scream at him.
He doesn’t respond.
Rami pushes me to my knees, moving to stand behind me, crouching with me as I struggle to get free of him.
“Answer me you fucking bastard!” I scream. “Answer me, coward!”
“You want an answer, dear, sweet, Allegra?” he asks, gesturing to Rami who holds me down while raising my right hand to the block, forcing it there.
“Of course I knew. I watched. I watched it happen night after night, finger after finger. I stood over her while they did it. Open your hand, Allegra. Spread your fingers out.”
I shake my head violently, make a tight fist. Rami twists my other arm painfully. It won’t take much more to break it.
“It was hideous by the end, but you saw that, didn’t you? That last night when she had one finger left. The one with your father’s ring still on it.” He makes a face like he’s disgusted. “I hope you and I won’t get that far, but we’ll need to start somewhere. I need you to know I’m serious.”
I’m struggling against Rami, half twisted toward him to keep him from snapping my arm.
“Please, I’m not—” the stranger says, and I look at him. I’d forgotten he was here. I see now that he’s wearing a collar. He’s a priest.
“Shut the fuck up,” Malek demands, not looking at him. “Open your hand, Allegra.”
I look at that butcher’s knife, then back at him.
“You can make it easy on yourself. Say yes and we’ll stop at one.” He produces my mother’s ring out of his pocket. “What have you got to lose?” he laughs. “I mean, really.”
“Cassian’s going to kill you when he finds you. He’s going to fucking murder you!”
“Bring him over here so he gets a good look,” Malek commands of the soldier who shoves the priest forward.
He then gestures to Rami who, while keeping pressure on my arm, raises my fisted hand, turns it then slams it on the block so hard, I think I hear the bones of my knuckles crack. My hand opens, palm up.
“Why would Cassian kill me? Why would he be looking for me at all?” Malek asks, feigning confusion.
My eyes go from Malek to the knife and back.
“Do you think he cares about you?” he asks as I try to pull my hand away. It’s impossible, though. Impossible with Rami pinning it down.
“Michael paid him. But Michael’s dead,” Malek continues and I half-hear him. “So you belong to me now. You’re mine to do with as I please. And what I please is to hear you scream,” he says, and I do scream. My God do I scream.
I scream and scream and scream. I think I’ll never stop screaming.